CHAPTER XVI

Promise of Representative Government—Political Parties—Renewed Unrest—Local Outbreaks.

The decree announcing the Imperial decision to establish a Parliament in 1890 was issued on the 12th October, 1881. In this decree the Emperor refers to his intention from the first to establish gradually a constitutional form of government, evidence of which had already been furnished by the creation of a Senate (_Genrō-in_) in 1875, and the drafting, three years later, of the laws concerning local government-measures designed, it is explained, to serve as a foundation for the further reforms contemplated. Conscious, His Majesty proceeds to observe, of his responsibility in the discharge of his duties as Sovereign to the Imperial ancestors, whose spirits were watching his actions, he declares his determination to proceed with the work of reform, and charges his Ministers to make preparations for the establishment of a Parliament at the time appointed; reserving to himself the task of deciding, later on, the questions of the limitations to be imposed on the Imperial prerogative, and the character of the Parliament to be created. The decree dwells on the undesirability of sudden and startling changes in administration, and concludes with a warning to the people, under pain of the Imperial displeasure, not to disturb the public peace by pressing for innovations of this nature.

Although the granting of a Constitution was not expressly mentioned in the decree, the reference in it to the limitations to be imposed on the Imperial prerogative clearly implied that the creation of a Parliament, and the granting of a Constitution, would go together. That the latter, when promulgated, would be a written Constitution was also clear both from the circumstances of the time and from the methods already followed by the Government in carrying out its policy of legislative reforms.

No time was lost in beginning the preparations mentioned in the Imperial announcement. In March of the following year, as we read in the reminiscences contributed by him to _Fifty Years of New Japan_, the late Prince (then Mr.) Itō was ordered by the Emperor to prepare a draft of a Constitution, and on the fifteenth of the same month he set out, he tells us, on “an extended journey in different constitutional countries to make as thorough a study as possible of the actual workings of different systems of constitutional government, of their various provisions, as well as of theories and opinions actually entertained by influential persons on the actual stage itself of constitutional life.” In the prosecution of this enquiry into constitutional matters, which occupied his attention for eighteen months, Prince Itō was assisted by a numerous staff of assistants.

By the definite promise of a Parliament, to be accompanied by a Constitution, the position of the agitators was changed. With the disappearance of their chief grievance the ground had been cut from under their feet. It was no longer a question of whether there should be a Parliament or not, but what sort of Parliament the one to be established in 1890 should be. Neither on this point, however, nor on the framing of the Constitution, was there any intention of consulting the nation. The decree had expressly stated that these questions would be reserved for the Imperial decision later on. While the Government, therefore, proceeded with its preparations for the establishment of representative institutions, it was incumbent on the leaders of the opposition party to prepare on their side for the time when constitutional government of a kind would be an accomplished fact, and complete their organization in readiness for the Parliament, whose opening would furnish them with the desired field for their activities. Thus, the effect of the Imperial decree was to hasten the development of political parties. For these, when formed, there was little to do until representative institutions came actually into operation; and their restricted sphere of utility was still further reduced by the increasing severity of the repressive measures adopted by the Government. Nevertheless, the same things which had previously assisted the progress of the agitation for popular reforms now encouraged the development of political parties. These were: the magic of the expressions “public discussion” and “public opinion,” first heard at the time of the Restoration, which had captivated the public ear all the more, perhaps, from their being imperfectly understood; and the novelty, always attractive to the Japanese people, of the methods adopted by the advanced reformers in the shape of public meetings and public addresses which were a new phenomenon in the history of the country.

Political associations had, as we have seen, been formed before, in connection with the agitation for popular reforms, both in the Capital and in the provinces. Owing their creation chiefly to the leader of the Tosa party and his lieutenants, most of them had led a rather precarious existence, flourishing or dying down in response to the degree of severity characterizing the measures of control taken by the authorities. Neither in point of organization, nor in definiteness of aim, could they be regarded quite as political parties. The latest and most important of these associations had been the Union for the establishment of a Parliament, formed in 1880, which, as already mentioned, represented between twenty and thirty societies in various parts of the country. Out of this unwieldy body the first political party grew, taking the place of the parent society which was dissolved. This was the _Jiyūtō_, or Liberal Party, established by Itagaki in October, 1881, a few days only after the issue of the Imperial decree. Its birth was signalized by collision with the authorities, a misfortune which might not incorrectly have been interpreted as an omen of a stormy career. The party managers had, it seems, omitted to give notice to the police of gatherings of the party, thereby infringing the Law of Public Meetings. For their omission to do so the managers were fined, and a further result of the infringement was that, though actually founded on the date above mentioned, the party did not receive official recognition until July of the following year. Itagaki was elected President of the party, and one of the four Vice-Presidents was Gotō Shōjirō, whose connection with the resignation of the last of the Shōguns will be remembered.

The programme of the Liberal Party was comprehensive, if rather vague. Its intentions, as announced in the manifesto issued, were “to endeavour to extend the liberties of the people, maintain their rights, promote their happiness and improve their social condition.” The manifesto also expressed the party’s desire “to establish a constitutional government of the best type,” and its readiness to co-operate with all who were inspired by similar aims. Its President, Itagaki Taisuké, had from the first been the prime mover in the agitation for popular reforms, which without his inspiration and guidance would never have attained the dimensions it did; both in and out of season he had pressed upon the attention of the Government and the country the desirability of broadening whenever and wherever possible the basis of administration; and he shared with Ōkuma the distinction of being a pioneer in the organization of political parties in preparation for the Parliament to be established and a successful party leader after representative institutions had come into operation. Lacking the versatility of his Hizen contemporary and colleague, he was nevertheless a leading figure in political circles, where his sincerity and tenacity of purpose commanded much respect. The public indignation excited by the unsuccessful attempt on his life made in the spring of 1882 was a tribute to his popularity, and the words he is said to have uttered when stabbed, “Itagaki may die, but not liberty,” are still quoted. Had he, like other politicians of his time, lived more in Tōkiō and less in his native province, he might have been better known outside of Japan.

In the spring of 1882 two other political parties came into existence. One of these was the “_Rikken-Kaishintō_,” or Constitutional Reform Party, which was established by Ōkuma with the co-operation of a number of well-known men who had followed him into retirement when he left the Ministry in the previous year. Prominent among these ex-officials were Shimada Saburō, a distinguished writer, who afterwards became President of the House of Representatives; Yano Fumiō, another distinguished writer, who later on filled the post of Japanese Minister to China; and Ozaki Yukiō, who was afterwards Minister of Education, as well as Mayor of Tōkiō, and now occupies a foremost position as speaker, writer and parliamentarian. The programme of the _Kaishintō_ was more definite than that of the Liberal Party. Besides the usual stock phrases as to upholding the dignity of the Throne and promoting the happiness of the people, it dwelt on the necessity of internal progress as a preliminary step to “the extension of national rights and prestige,” and advocated the development of local self-government, the gradual extension of the franchise _pari passu_ with the progress of the nation, the encouragement of foreign trade, and financial reform.

The points of difference between the Liberal Party and the _Kaishintō_, or Moderate Liberals, as we may call them, were of the kind that distinguished the two party leaders from each other. The greater culture and refinement, as well as the moderation, of the Hizen statesman were reflected in the more sober views of his party, which appealed to a more educated section of the people than the cruder and more radical doctrines and methods of the _Jiyūtō_.

The third party established at this time was the _Rikken Teisei-to_, or Constitutional Imperialist Party. Fukuchi, editor of the _Nichi Nichi Shimbun_, which was then a semi-official organ, took an active part in its formation. Its _raison d’être_ was support of the Government, which the other two parties opposed. It was, therefore, usually known as the Government party. Some of the items of its elaborate programme were in themselves a sufficient indication of its official sympathies. Approval was expressed of the date (1890) fixed for the establishment of a parliament; of whatever form of Constitution might be decided upon by the Government with the Imperial sanction; of there being two Chambers; of the necessity of qualifications for members; and of the final decision in all matters resting with the Emperor. But other points in the programme suggested some independence of opinion. The party favoured the separation of the army and navy from politics; the independence of judges; freedom of public meetings in so far as was consonant with national tranquillity; as well as freedom of public speech, of publication and of the Press within legal limits, and financial reform.

The same spirit which led to the formation of these three political parties in the Capital inspired the birth of many more in the provinces. More than forty of these sprang up like mushrooms, and the confusion naturally attending the sudden appearance of so many was increased by the rule which made it necessary for each to be registered as a separate organization, even when name and associations clearly indicated its connection with the parent party in the Capital. Almost every prefecture could boast of its own political party, usually affiliated to one of the three chief parties in Tōkiō, whose example was generally followed in the inclusion of the word “Constitutional” in the title, a fact which shows what importance was attached to constitutional principles as a basis of government. Occasionally, too, the dearth of fixed political ideas was shown by the comprehensive vagueness of the name chosen. An instance of this occurred in the case of the political party formed in the province of Noto, which assumed the non-committal designation of the _Jiyū-Kaishintō_, which was intended to mean the Party of Liberty and Reform, but lent itself to the interpretation of being the Liberal and Moderate Liberal Party. In this, as in many other instances, the name was a mere label without much meaning.

In spite of the flourish of trumpets which accompanied the formation of these three political parties, and their numerous branches—for such they mostly were—in the provinces, the movement collapsed as suddenly as it arose. Before eighteen months had passed one of the three, the Imperialist Party, had decided to dissolve. A year later its example was followed by the Liberal Party; while the third, the party of Moderate Liberals, led by Ōkuma, though it escaped dissolution, was by the end of 1884 in a moribund condition, without either president or vice-president.

For this sudden blighting of the hopes of the newly formed class of politicians there were several reasons. In the first place, in pursuance of what had been termed its settled policy of alternate conciliation and repression, the Government, after the issue of the Imperial decree promising a parliament, had embarked upon a course of further repressive legislation. The law restricting the right of public meeting and speech, which had been issued in 1880, was in 1882 revised and made much more stringent. Under this revised law the powers of the police for inquisitorial purposes were increased; political parties were bound to furnish full particulars concerning the rules of association and lists of members; no meeting could be held unless permission from the police had been obtained three days before; it was forbidden to advertise the subjects of political lectures and debates, or to invite attendance at a meeting; political associations were not only debarred from having branches in other places, but from holding communications, or carrying on any kind of relations with other political parties—a provision which was said to be inspired by fear of the amalgamation of parties opposed to the Government; and, on the simple ground of its being necessary for the preservation of the public peace, the police had power at any time to close a public meeting. And yet, strange to say, the Government which did these things, which left no stone unturned in its efforts to thwart the designs of suspected politicians, was itself a Government of reformers, and betrayed at moments no little sympathy with the popular cause it was fighting.

The severity of the policy adopted by the Government extended to the Press. In the spring of 1883 the Press law of 1875, the operation of which had given rise to a special class of “prison editors,” was revised in a spirit of increasing harshness. In cases falling under what was known as the “Law of Libel,” not the editor of a paper only, as before, but the proprietor and manager also, were held jointly responsible; the law itself was construed so as to leave no loophole of escape for the suspected offender; and the conditions imposed on journalistic enterprise made it almost impossible to start a newspaper or to carry it on when started.

The newly formed political parties were also at a disadvantage as regards the place which was of necessity their centre of operations. We have seen how before the reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse Tōkiō, then called Yedo, had for nearly three centuries been the seat of administration; how with the gradual decay of Tokugawa authority the centre of political activity had shifted for a time to the former capital, Kiōto; and how after the Restoration of 1868–9 Tōkiō, now called by its changed name, had more than regained its position, becoming as the new Capital the place where the new life of the nation and its interests were focussed. Its position was now stronger than ever, for the abolition of feudalism had put an end to all separatist tendencies, and provincial towns had lost much of their former importance. The change was not without its effect on the organization of political parties. However great the local influence of the leaders might be, it was in Tōkiō that the constitution of parties took place. The provinces counted for little. They might supply the leaders, but the Capital was the centre of operations. There, as being the seat of administration, the Government was at its strongest, while the party politicians on the other hand were at a disadvantage. Beyond the reach of the local ties in clan or province, on which they depended for support, they worked in strange and uncongenial surroundings. Moreover, the enforcement of the rule forbidding the formation of provincial branches and combination with other political bodies, condemned them to a position of comparative isolation.

Another difficulty with which political parties had to contend was the absence of any concrete and well-defined issues upon which politicians could concentrate. As, in the early ministerial rupture of 1873, in which political parties had their genesis, no broad question of principle, so far as reforms were concerned, had divided the retiring statesmen from their colleagues who remained at the head of affairs, so it was with political parties at this time, and for many years afterwards. No clear line of demarcation separated one from another. All alike were in favour of progress and reform, all anxious, though not altogether in equal measure, for the extension of the people’s rights. It is true that the programmes issued by the different parties at the time of their formation, as well as the speeches of party leaders, showed some divergencies, but the views therein expressed were pious opinions, and nothing more. They dealt with things in the abstract, not with practical issues, which had not yet arisen. It is not surprising, therefore, that in the absence of more material concerns time should have been wasted in vague and futile controversy on such abstract subjects as sovereign rights and their exercise; the Liberals declaring that sovereignty lay with the people, the Imperialists that it rested with the Sovereign; while the party of Constitutional Reform contended that it resided in something representing both, namely, a parliament, which had as yet no existence. Under such circumstances popular enthusiasm declined, and even serious politicians lost interest in the welfare of their party.

Much mischief was, also, caused by disunion, the result of inexperience and lack of discipline. This was aggravated in the case of the Liberal Party by the departure on a tour of observation in Europe and America of its president, Itagaki, and Gotō, one of its vice-presidents. The Government was accused of arranging this tour with the double object of weakening the _Jiyūtō_ by depriving it of the services of its ablest politicians, and of creating discord between the Liberals and the Party of Constitutional Reform. If this was its plan, it certainly succeeded. Not only was the _Jiyūtō_ weakened by internal dissensions, but the relations of the two parties became at once estranged. The one accused the other of receiving bribes from the Government, and when they both practically disappeared from the scene, the feud was bequeathed to their successors.

One reason alone, however, in the absence of any others, would probably have sufficed to render futile this first experiment at party making for parliamentary purposes. There was no parliament, and no one knew what sort of parliament there would be. In these circumstances the proceedings of political parties lacked reality, and gave the impression of a stage performance.

The results of the political activity of the nation in the direction we have described were certainly not encouraging. All that was left of the three parties after two or three years of strenuous endeavour was a shattered and leaderless remnant of one, the other two having melted away altogether; and of their work nothing survived save a faint tracing of lines along which the subsequent development of political parties proceeded.

More than once in the preceding pages attention has been called to the embarrassment and danger caused to the country by the large numbers of ex-_samurai_ with little means and less occupation, whom the abolition of the feudal system had left stranded, and who now lay like a blight upon the land. For some of the better educated of these former members of the military class the rapidly developing Press had furnished employment. The restless energies of the remainder had found occupation for a time in the movement for the formation of political parties. As soon, however, as the first impulse of the movement had spent its force, and before the actual dissolution of any of the parties, their attention was diverted to other channels of political activity which promised more immediate results; and the occurrence of several outbreaks and plots following one another at short intervals, testified to the serious mischief still to be apprehended from this unruly class.

The first of these to call for the intervention of the authorities was a rising which took place in 1883 in a prefecture to the north of the Capital. The cause of the trouble was a dispute between the officials and the people of the district in regard to the construction of roads. Into the question of road construction, as into that of all other public works, entered the question of the _corvée_. This was an important feature of rural administration, dating back to ancient times, and consisted of personal service, or its commutation by a money payment. It opened the door to many abuses, but, if imposed in the form of personal service at seasons when there was little outdoor work to be done, it was preferred by the peasant to other modes of taxation. In the case in question there was no objection in principle to the _corvée_, but the action of the authorities was resented on the ground that the roads it was intended to construct were not required. Consequently, when the governor called for labour on the roads, the people refused to work, and the disturbances which ensued became so serious as to require the use of troops for their suppression. In pre-Restoration days the trouble would not have extended beyond the compass of a simple agrarian riot. What made it more important, and gave it a political aspect, was the admixture of the _shizoku_, or ex-_samurai_, element, which in feudal times could never have occurred. One of the ringleaders in this rising, who escaped with a term of imprisonment for an offence which a few years before would have cost him his head, afterwards became President of the House of Representatives. In this capacity he speedily earned fresh notoriety by headstrong action leading to the immediate dissolution of Parliament, and the extinction of his parliamentary career.

Other risings and plots which had no connection with local grievances, but were the outcome of discontent and lawlessness, occurred in various parts of the country. The most singular, as it was the last of the series, was a fantastic attempt made in 1885 to stir up trouble in Korea, in the hope that this might react on the political situation in Japan, and hasten the establishment of representative government. Those concerned in the plot were all of _samurai_ origin, and subsequently took a prominent part in the proceedings of parliamentary parties.

The complicity of many members of the Liberal Party, both before and after its dissolution, in these insurrectionary movements is admitted by Japanese writers, who are disposed to attribute it mainly to the excessive severity of the measures of repression taken by the authorities.