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JAPAN'S GENERAL HISTORY LIBRARY
IIITHE RESTORATION OF THE MIKADO
AND
THE GREAT EMANCIPATION1867-1912
THE green shoot of New Japan was coming through the
ground. One of the chief hindrances to its growth was to disappear in 1867, with
the death, early in the year, of the Emperor Ko-mei,
who had reigned twenty years. Ko-mei Ten-no is
supposed to have been bitterly anti-foreign, but it should be borne in mind
that, in his time, the Emperor's personal opinion was but the reflection of the
views of the women by whom alone he was constantly attended, and of the
Imperial princes and the very few nobles sufficiently exalted in rank to
approach his sacred person. Towards the close of his reign, his entourage,
taught by the stern logic of facts, had become more resigned to the unwelcome
presence of foreigners in the "Holy Land" of Japan; but it was hardly
to be expected that, as long as their august sovereign occupied the Imperial
Palace at Kioto, they would openly recant their
opinions. They toned down their anti-foreign diatribes considerably some time
before the Emperor's death on February 13, 1867; the advent of his successor,
his son Mutsu-hito—born on November 3, 1852, and
enthroned, with ceremonies equivalent to an Occidental coronation, on October
13, 1868—gave them full opportunity for an avowed change of policy. The boy of
fifteen, who now became the one hundred and twenty-third sovereign of Japan
"of one unbroken line", by far the oldest dynasty in the world, was
unhampered by any anti-foreign edicts. He could accept the advice of his councillors, speaking of great things that were impending,
of an entire change of front towards the "haughty barbarians", of a
complete alteration in the system of government, of innovations and reforms that
would have staggered the late monarch, to whom they would have seemed impious
and accursed.
Fortunately for Japan, this new Emperor was no
weakling, but strong in health—he grew up a fine, deep-chested man, tall for a
Japanese, five feet eight inches in height—and strong in character. Deeply
imbued with the awful responsibility of his position, animated by a strict
sense of duty, his Imperial Majesty gave throughout his long and epoch-making
reign, many proofs of shrewd common-sense and of that supreme political
sagacity which consists in the selection of the best advisers and in a wise
abstention from interference, except in cases of great emergency. In such times
of crisis, the Emperor Mutsu-hito always spoke the
right word at the proper moment, and all Japan bowed in awe struck obedience.
How much of this policy was his own, how much was due to the Elder Statesmen he
consulted, will probably never be known; this much is certain, that the
acceptance of good advice, and the use thereof at the right moment, constitute
by themselves political wisdom of the soundest kind, and with such wisdom the
stately, imperturbable, benign Emperor Mutsu-hito was
amply endowed. The Japanese National Anthem, "Kimiga yo, etc.," expresses a pious wish for the long
continuance of the monarch's reign; and even this was granted to new Japan, as
the great Emperor had completed a reign of forty-five years at his lamented
death, on July 20th, 1912.
Surely no reign in history can show such a record of
progress, of reform, of peaceful achievement, of military glory by land and
sea, as that of Mutsu-hito—a name meaning literally,
"Benign Man"—one hundred and twenty-third sovereign of Old, first
Emperor of New, Japan! With his accession a new wind began to blow in official
circles; the Court of Kioto was no longer a hotbed of
anti-foreign fanaticism. The Shogun's government, which had been only outwardly
friendly to foreigners, now earnestly strove to cultivate amicable relations,
especially with Britain, with the United States, and with France. Napoleon III
lost no opportunity of showing how well he was disposed towards the Baku-fu.
Misinformed as to the state of Japan—as in so many other matters—that schemer
and dreamer "backed the wrong horse", at least with moral support,
and might have given material aid, in the hope of reaping the Shogun's
gratitude, had not the march of events been too rapid for Napoleon's vague
plans to mature.
French influence was paramount at this time in the
Baku-fu's military councils; at the Shogun's request
the French Government selected a military mission, which set to work to train
the Baku-fu's motley troops and to educate young
Samurai in the art of war. The mission, consisting of five officers, under
Captain Chanoine, of the Staff Corps, arrived in
January, 1867. Its activity was, a year later, transferred by the course of
events to a wider sphere, when the nucleus of a truly national army was formed.
The French instructors remained at their posts until after the Franco-German
war had opened the eyes of the Japanese to the fact that another great military
Power had arisen, under whose scientifically calculated, overwhelming blows,
the gallant but ill-organised and badly-directed Army
of the Second Empire had crumbled into dust.
New organisers and
instructors were procured from the victorious German General Staff, the late
General Meckel at their head, and for years the German officers brought their
consummate knowledge of military science and their native thoroughness to bear
on shaping and moulding into its present marvellous approach to perfection the excellent material
prepared by their French predecessors.
The year of the arrival of the French military mission
saw the advent, in September, 1867, of a British naval mission, under Commander
Tracey, R.N., invited by the Shogun to organise and
train his Navy, which, consisting in 1865 of five vessels of European build—one
paddle-steamship, two square-rigged sailing ships for training purposes, a
steam-yacht presented to the Shogun by Britain, and a three-masted steamer—had
grown to the total strength of eight ships. The downfall of the Shogunate
interrupted the labours of this first naval mission
only five months after its arrival. Its work was taken up in 1873 by the second
British naval mission, under Commander Douglas, R.N., now Admiral Sir Archibald
Douglas, which remained in active operation six years. After its departure, a
few British naval officers, warrant officers, and petty officers, were still
employed as instructors in special branches, with Commander Ingles, R.N. (now
Rear-Admiral, retired), as naval adviser to the Japanese Admiralty: but their
number became steadily less as the Japanese began to feel confidence in their
own naval efficiency. The last Occidental officer to be employed by the
Japanese Government was Engineer-Commander A. R. Pattison, R.N., who returned
to his duty in the Royal Navy in 1901. The work of these men, sailors and
soldiers, British, French, German, and Italian—for a couple of Italian
artillery officers organised the great military
arsenal and gun-foundry at Osaka—whether performed in the office, in the
lecture-room, on the parade-ground, or at sea, was herculean, and the success
proportionate. It is to them, in great measure, that Japan owes the efficiency
that has made, as the native phrase has it, her glory to shine beyond the
seas". In 1867, that glory was not yet apparent, the outlook was cloudy,
and many shook their heads anxiously, anticipating a bitter and long-continued civil
war between the Imperialists and the Shogun's party. Their forebodings were not
justified by events; some fighting took place—the disruption and reconstruction
of the whole system of government, the uprooting of hoary institutions, and the
consequent unavoidable disturbance of every class interest, could not happen
without some violence being used—but the armed struggle was short and confined
to a few districts.
It was at no time a great regional conflict, like the
American Civil War, nor did it split the whole nation into two belligerent
parties, opposing each other in every part of the land, as in the English Civil
War between King and Parliament. The conflicting parties were too unevenly
matched for the struggle to become a severe one, and the leader of the losing
side, the Shogun Kei-ki, was not made of the stem stuff that prolongs the game
to the utmost, even with all the chances adverse. Meeting with bitter opposition
from the great clans of the west and south, and beset by financial anxieties,
an opportunity of ridding himself of his uneasy office and of its crushing
responsibilities presented itself when, in October, 1867, Yama-no-uchi Yo-do, the retired Lord of Tosa, addressed a letter to him wherein he earnestly
advised him to resign the governing power and to hand it over to the sovereign,
thus restoring that unity of rule for lack of which the empire was distracted
and weak, a prey to foreigners and "a butt for their insults". Kei-ki
took the great noble's advice to heart, and, by a manifesto dated November 9th,
1867, resigned his office and returned to the Emperor the delegated powers he
held as Shogun. The Emperor accepted, and summoned the feudal lords to Kioto to discuss matters and to consult as to the new order
of things. The old order was gone, never to return.
The Shogunate, after an existence of nearly seven
centuries as a ruling power, had succumbed to senile decay. In Tokugawa hands
it had given Japan two centuries and a half of unbroken peace. Its very success
in maintaining order in the land—an object it attained by the exercise of
cunning diplomacy rather than by a display of force—made hosts of enemies who
eventually compassed its downfall. Its worst legacy is the widely ramified
system of spying it brought to the pitch of perfection, a system that has stood
Japan in good stead in the preparations for her wars, but has severely damaged
her national character. The Japanese are the best spies in the world; the
Baku-fu system trained their ancestors to be eaves-droppers, but they have
small cause to be thankful for it. They would have been victorious against
China, even against Russia, had the Intelligence Departments of their Navy and
their Army been less wonderfully efficient; but more than two generations must
pass before they get the spy-taint out of their blood.
At present it poisons life in Japan in almost every
phase; until its disappearance no real fellow-feeling is possible between Japanese
and Occidentals. Spies had a busy time in 1868 and the next few years, for with
the restoration of the ruling power into the hands of the Emperor the Samurai
class were plunged into a whirlpool of intrigues, of plots and counter-plots,
of schemes of reform (some admirably practical, others visionary), of
accusations and suspicions, a feeling of bewilderment permeating all at the
seemingly inexplicable conduct of the leaders of the Imperialist party. During
the struggle against the Shogunate, "Out with the Foreigners!" had
been the War-cry; now the Shogunate was no more, behold the victors sitting at
meat with the hated "barbarians", worse still, inviting them to Kioto, to the sacred precincts of the Court and—it was
hardly to be believed—allowing them to gaze on the divinely-descended Emperor's
face in solemn audience! Such impious proceedings must be stopped, and the
disgusted Samurai kept his long sword keen as a razor and used it, as
opportunity offered, on the "ugly barbarian", the "hairy
Chinaman", as the Occidental was scornfully called, and on the native
traitor, for so seemed to the swordsman the Japanese who had become defiled by
associating with foreigners.
This anomalous state of things continued until well
into the seventies, the Court and the Government markedly friendly to
Occidentals, the officials adopting the same attitude, sometimes painfully
against their inclination, but the great body of the Samurai, on the other
hand, inspired by fanatical anti-foreign feelings, leading to the commission of
such outrages as the indiscriminate firing on the foreign settlement at Kobé by troops of the Bizen clan,
on February 4th, 1868; the murder, by Tosa clansmen,
of eleven French man-of-war's men at Sakai on March 8th of the same year (a
crime for which an equal number of the assassins had to commit hara-kiri); and,
most audacious of all, the fierce attack on the procession in the midst of
which the British Minister, Sir Harry Parkes, was riding to the palace at Kioto, on March 23rd, 1868, to be received for the first
time by the Emperor.
The assailants were only two, members of a
newly-raised force of red-hot Imperialists, the Shim-pei, or
"New Troops", a corps intended to act as an Imperial body-guard,
formed principally of yeomen, landed gentry holding small estates and
independent of any feudal lord, with a considerable admixture of Ronin and
other adventurers, ex-Buddhist priests and the like. The two fanatics managed
between them to wound, with their long swords, nine out of the eleven ex-constables
of the Metropolitan Police who, tired of the monotony of their London beats and
"point-duty", had volunteered to serve as the mounted escort attached
to the British Legation in Japan. They also wounded one of the military escort
of 48 men (furnished by the detachment of the 9th Foot, then guarding the
foreign settlement at Yokohama), a Japanese groom in the British Minister's
employ, and five horses.
They ran "amok" down the line of the
procession till one was stopped by a British bullet and a British bayonet (he
was ultimately degraded from his rank as a Samurai and decapitated), and the
other cut down by a Japanese official, Goto Shojiro, of the Foreign Departments, and beheaded by a
Japanese officer, Nakai Kozo, who was cut on the head
in a brief but fierce sword-fight with the miscreant. The British Government recognised the gallantry of Goto and Nakai by the presentation to each of them of a
handsome sword of honour. An Imperial Edict, dated
March 28th, 1868, threatened the perpetrators of outrages on foreigners with a
punishment the two-sworded gentry feared more than
anything else: the striking of their names off the rolls of the Samurai. The
edict clearly stated the Emperor's resolve to "live in amity" with
the Treaty Powers—two great strides forward in the history of New Japan: the
first earnest attempt to check outrages and the first proclamation of the new
Emperor's abandonment of the old anti-foreign policy. From this time outrages
on foreigners became fewer, until they practically ceased to occur, with the
exception of the isolated acts of criminal lunatics; there is little doubt it
was while in an insane condition that the policeman Tsuda Sanzo slashed at and wounded the Tsarevitch, now the Tsar Nicholas II, at Otsu, in
1891, and Koyama, who shot Li Hung Chang in the face, during the peace
negotiations at Shimonoseki, in March, 1895, was halfwitted.
In the opening years of the twentieth century, the lives and property of
foreigners are as safe as in any civilised country—safer, indeed, than in most of them, the statistics of Japan showing
that crime is not very prevalent, and the police being perhaps the most
efficient in the world.
If this general state of security be, as it
undoubtedly is, greatly to the credit of the way in which Japan is governed and
of the law-abiding character of her people, it must be admitted that in one
respect life is, unfortunately, still less safe than in most Occidental
countries.
Japanese statesmen still run greater risks than most
others, and have to be carefully guarded, for political assassination, which
has cut off in their prime some of the noblest patriots and most enlightened
administrators among the makers of New Japan, is still an ever-present danger.
It is, of course, punished with the extreme penalty of the law; but its
disappearance cannot be expected until the popular feeling towards it changes
completely. Purity of motive, and zeal, however misguided, for what the
assassin considers to be the public good, still justify his murderous deed in
the eyes of the Japanese people. On April 6th, 1868, the Emperor assembled
the Court nobles and great feudal lords at the Palace of Ni-jo, in Kioto, and, in their presence, took a solemn oath, by which
he promised that a Deliberative Assembly should be constituted, so that all
measures for the public would be, in future, decided by public opinion; that
old abuses should be removed, and that impartiality and justice should reign in
the government of the nation "as they were to be seen in the workings of
Nature". The Emperor promised, further, that intellect and knowledge
should be sought for throughout the world, in order to assist in establishing
the foundations of the empire.
Thus was the seed of constitutional government sown in
Japan, establishing once for all the principle of government by the will of the
majority. The plant has grown apace; it is now a healthy tree, doing quite as
well, all things considered, as similar ones planted in countries in which they
were as exotic as in Japan. Some of the fruit borne by its branches has been
sour enough; but it should be remembered that even the Mother of Parliaments
has not always given her numerous offspring throughout the world an example of
supreme dignity. That there is a certain amount of corruption in Japanese
parliamentary politics is undeniable; but its proportions are far smaller than
they were a few years ago. Scenes in the House still occur occasionally, but
they have, fortunately, hardly ever sunk to the level of absolute savagery that
has so often disgraced the sittings of the Reichsrath in Vienna and of the Lower House of the Hungarian Diet at Budapest. In one
respect, the Parliament of Japan has been a brilliant model for the legislative
assemblies of the world: at the outset of both the great wars in which New
Japan has engaged, the Leader of the Opposition, speaking on behalf of his
adherents, solemnly announced that thenceforward, until Japan's victorious
sword returned to its sheath, there would be no more parties in the council of
the nation; in the presence of a national crisis all Japan would be as one man.
In 1868, however, Japan's constitutionai government was in its earliest embryonic stage; divided counsels, intrigues,
plots and counterplots still confused the nation and obscured the great issues
at stake. The ex-Shogun Kei-ki had retired to the monastery of Kwanyei-ji, at Uyeno, in Yedo, and showed signs of disinclination to play any
further part in politics. The Imperial troops were advancing on Yedo, the forts in the bay there being handed over to them
without a blow on April 4th, 1868. On the 25th of the same month the Imperial
ultimatum was presented to Kei-ki, summoning him to hand over the castle of Yedo, his warships and armaments, and to retire into
seclusion in the from province of Mito.
Kei-ki accepted these terms and retired to Mito. The
other conditions of the ultimatum were speedily complied with, except that
relating to the transfer of the Shogunate's fleet, which was to have taken
place on May 3rd, the day of Kei-ki's departure from Yedo,
but was postponed owing to a violent storm. The next morning it was found that
the squadron had put to sea. It subsequently returned and several months were
spent in negotiations as to its surrender, the Imperial Government being
obliged to temporise, as it had no naval force
wherewith to compel submission. In the night of October 4th, 1868, the fleet,
consisting of eight steam vessels, under the command of Captain Enomoto Kamajiro, whose naval
education had been received in Holland, from 1862 to 1867, sailed from Yedo Bay for Yezo, where, at
Hakodate, its commander and the three or four thousand adherents of the
Tokugawa who sailed with him, attempted to set up a republic.
It seems more than likely that the idea of such a very
un-Japanese experiment did not germinate spontaneously in the hardy sailor's
mind, but was, in some way, connected with the presence on his staff of Captain
Brunet and another member of the French military mission, as well as of two
midshipmen from a French Warship, all of these having joined the expedition
secretly, apparently without the knowledge of the French Minister. The strange
kind of "Republic," which was anything but democratic, for only
Samurai had votes, was shortlived. As soon as the
Imperial Government could improvise a squadron of its own, it began operations
against Enomoto, troops also attacking him by land.
Short but sharp fighting took place by sea and land, in May and June,
1869,resulting in the total discomfiture of the "rebels," as they had
been declared by a decree of October 10th of the previous year. Their leaders
surrendered, their forces were disarmed, and the adventurous Frenchmen went on
board a warship of their own country and placed themselves in the hands of her
captain. They were conveyed as prisoners to Saigon, together with one of the
runaway French midshipmen who had been captured by the Japanese Imperial
forces at the stranding of the rebel ship in which he was serving, and who had
been given up to the French Legation.
Thus ended, in a miserable manner, the hare-brained
adventure of Enomoto and his followers. A remarkable
sign of the times, auguring well for the wisdom with which the new Government
was imbued, may be found in the clemency extended to the rebel leaders. In Old
Japan their lives would certainly have been forfeited to the victors. After
serving a term of imprisonment, they were, under the new regime, pardoned by
the Emperor. Many of them lived to serve him faithfully in high official posts. Enomoto himself became a Viscount, a Vice-Admiral,
and a highly-respected statesman, who rendered good service in several
Cabinets, holding in turn all the portfolios except those of War, Finance, and
Justice.
Meanwhile, other adherents of the Tokugawa besides the
navy of the late Shogunate offered armed resistance to the new order of things.
The powerful Aidzu clan had retired into their
mountain fastnesses, after presenting to the Government a petition indicating
their intense dissatisfaction with the state of affairs. They were joined by large
numbers of malcontents, and prepared for war. About twenty-five clans
ultimately joined this northern coalition of rebels, their headquarters being
established in the castle of Waka-matsu, which was
besieged by the Imperial forces during the month of October, 1868.
After severe fighting, the besieged making a heroic defence, the castle capitulated, on November 6th, the
Imperial Army owing their victory chiefly to the superiority of their armament,
which was of the most modern kind. In Yedo, the
Tokugawa retainers, naturally dissatisfied at the disestablishment of their
clan from the position of power it had enjoyed for 265 years, had formed
themselves into armed bands, under the name of Shogitai,
meaning "the corps that makes duty clear." They seized the person of
the Imperial Prince, who, under the title of Rinnoji-no
Miya, was abbot of the great Buddhist temple at Uyeno,
a post always held by a son of a Mikado—an artful piece of policy on the part
of the Shogunate, which thus always had a candidate ready to its hand in the
event of a break in the direct succession to the Imperial throne.
The Shogitai proposed to set
up their more or less willing captive as a rival emperor, and proceeded to
establish themselves in the groves round the temple, then known as Toyeizan, and now forming part of the beautiful Uyeno Park. They attracted a host of dissatisfied
adventurers and unemployed Samurai, who swaggered about on high clogs, with
long swords stuck in their girdles, scowling at the Kingire,
as the Imperial troops were called from the " scraps of brocade" sewn
to their clothes as a distinguishing mark. Conflicts between the two parties
were frequent, especially when the Tokugawa adherents could fall upon an
isolated Imperialist in some remote street.
The proceedings of these lawless bands of
swashbucklers became at last so outrageous that a decree was issued proclaiming
them outlaws, and, as they refused to disperse, the forces of the loyal clans,
those of Satsuma at their head, attacked them on July 4th, 1868, and utterly
defeated them, chiefly owing to the execution done by two Armstrong field-guns
served by the men of Hizen. In the course of the
fight, the Hondo, or great hall of the monastery, was destroyed by fire. The
Imperialists were now in full possession of Yedo, the
municipal government of which they now took into their own hands.
The spirit of the Tokugawa clan had been broken, and
their importance was further diminished by a great reduction in the extent of
their territorial possessions, fixed by an Imperial decree. In the same year
(1868), the birthday of the Emperor Mutsu-hito,
November 3rd, was constituted a national holiday, and the important step was
taken of decreeing that thenceforward there should be only one nengo, or chronological epoch, for each reign, not, as
hitherto, liable to be altered, at the Emperor's will, on the occurrence of any
notable event. The epoch beginning with the late Emperor's reign was ordered to
be known as ''Enlightened Rule" (Meiji), surely a well-justified choice of
name. Thus the year of grace 1914 is the forty-seventh year of Meiji, or the
year 2574, of the existence of the Japanese Empire as reckoned from the
beginning of the reign of its alleged founder, Jimmu,
in 660 B.C., a mode of computing time introduced in 1872. A momentous decision
was now taken by the makers of New Japan. It was resolved that the Emperor
should reside, at least for a time, at Yedo, the city
founded by the "usurpers," as the Shogun were now commonly called by
the triumphant Imperialists; and his Majesty, travelling by land, in a closed
palanquin, arrived in the Tokugawa capital on November 26th, 1868. He found it
no longer Yedo, but Tokio,
the ''Eastern Capital", his Government having changed the city's name as a
sign, easily understood by all and sundry, that the old order of things that centred in Yedo had passed away
never to return, while a new era was dawning for the empire of which Tokio was to be the capital.
This action of the Government, and its effect on the
popular mind, may best be understood if we imagine the first Republican
Government of France changing the name of Paris, to celebrate the great
revolution of 1789-1793, as the present Municipal Council of the French capital
delights in changing the names of streets to commemorate various celebrities it
holds in high honour; or if we can conceive, in our
wildest dreams, the British Cabinet of 1832 changing the name of London to mark
the passing of the great Reform Bill. The making of Tokio into the sole seat of the Imperial Government took place only after a
transitory stage, when there were virtually two capitals—Tokio,
the Eastern one; and Kioto, which was renamed Saikio, or "Western Capital."
With the extinguishing of the pinchbeck
"republic" in Yezo, in October, 1869, all
armed resistance to the new order of things seemed to have ceased. The
ex-Shogun Kei-ki was living quietly in retirement —a state in which he long
continued to remain—obtaining, in latet years,
permission to reside in Tokio, where he was simply an
amiable old nobleman of no political importance. The new Government continued
to show its wisdom by the clemency with which the leaders of the rebellions
were treated. The Imperial Prince-Abbot, Rinnoji-no
Miya, was pardoned, and, under the title of Kita-Shira-kawa-no Miya, proceeded
to Germany, where he resided for many years, ultimately returning to hold high
command in the Imperial Army, in whose service he died from illness contracted
during the occupation of Formosa at the close of the war with China, 1895. In
January, 1869, the Emperor for the first time went on board one of his
warships. He returned shortly afterwards, by land, to Kioto,
where he was married, on February 9th, to the Princess Haruko, "Child of
Spring," of the house of Ichijo, his senior by
about two years.
This noble-hearted lady, as sweet and graceful as her
own poetical name, exerted an incalculably great influence for good in the land
over which her spouse reigned. Keeping carefully aloof from politics, she was
the guiding spirit in Emperor every good work, bestowing her high patronage
especially on institutions connected with female education, with the care of
the sick and wounded, of orphans, and of all who are in distress. Her Imperial
Majesty contributed generously from her privy purse to these charities and
other good works, taking a personal, active part in their management. Japan has
indeed been fortunate in having so long at the head of the nation a sovereign
worthy of the veneration, amounting almost to worship, with which he was
regarded, and, in his gracious consort, an Empress who may be described as the
very embodiment of the noble spirit, the devotion, the quiet dignity, the
gentleness and sweetness that are the characteristics of Japanese womanhood.
In March, 1869, the Official Gazette (Kampo) published a memorial to the throne by the feudal
lords of the four leading clans—Satsuma, Cho-shu, Tosa, and Hizen—offering up lists
of their entire possessions and of their retainers, and placing the whole at
the disposal of his Imperial Majesty. In this remarkable document, the drafting
of which has been attributed to a Samurai, Kido Junichiro, one of the foremost
makers of New Japan, the princely memorialists state: "The place where we
live is the Emperor's land, and the food we eat is grown by the Emperor's
men," and they proceed, in burning words of devoted loyalty, to beg the
Emperor to take possession of all they own, and to assume the direct rule over
the empire. Their example was followed by all but 17 of the 276 Daimiyo. The offer was accepted, and the greatest
revolution of modern times was thus completed with less strain and friction
than had accompanied any great change in the world's history. It cannot be said
that the restoration of the Imperial power was a bloodless revolution. As
already related, the malcontents had made a short but stout resistance in arms,
and blood was still to flow before the new state of things could be firmly
established. Nevertheless, the loss of life and destruction of property were
astonishingly small when it is considered what immense issues were at stake.
Had the French nobility possessed the wisdom of the counsellors who advised the Daimiyo, and the good sense shown by the latter in
adopting their advice, the great Revolution at the end of the eighteenth
century would have been a peaceful one, and France would have been spared
"the red fool-fury of the Seine."
The feudal lords were not immediately dispossessed of
all their power, although their revenues were greatly diminished and their
warships and armed retainers were taken over to form the nucleus of the
Imperial Navy and Army respectively. With that prudence that has always been
characteristic of the policy of the rulers of New Japan, they caused the Daimiyo to be appointed governors (Chihanji)
to administer their old clans (Han) on behalf of the Emperor. This period of
transition lasted till 1871, when the Han were converted into Ken, or
prefectures, governed by prefects appointed by the Imperial Government, and the
old feudal lords became simply members of the aristocracy, as they are today
with no administrative functions and no political power beyond their votes in
the House of Peers. If of a rank lower than that of a marquis, they must be
elected by their peers, for a term of seven years, to the delegation
representing their particular rank in the House.
Before feudalism could be looked upon as completely
abolished, the division of the people into strictly separated classes, or
castes, had to be effaced; the various elements that had for centuries been
kept apart, with the very object of preventing combination between them, had
now to be welded into a nation of men equal before the law, possessing equal
rights and duties, and permeated by a feeling of brotherhood within the borders
of the empire—in short, a nation had to be established on the only principles
that can ensure national strength. Two short years saw the greater part of this
stupendous work accomplished.
By the end of 1871 feudalism had been entirely
abolished, leaving behind it only a very natural sentimental attachment on the
part of those who had been retainers towards the great families to which they
had owed allegiance as their forefathers had done for so many centuries. By the
noblest stroke that ever moved an imperial pen two classes of human beings who
had hitherto enjoyed no legal rights, the Eta, a despised class who had for
centuries been occupied in trades considered degrading, such as the slaughtering
of animals, the preparation of leather, digging of criminals graves, and the Hinin, or "Non-humans", a still lower class of
outcasts, were admitted to citizenship. This grand act of emancipation raised
nearly a million of human beings (287,111 Eta, and 695,689 Hinin)
from a position little different from that of cattle to a state of manhood. The
nation was now divided into three great social orders: the Kwazoku,
or nobility; the Shikozu, or gentry, the old Samurai
class; and the Heimin, embracing all the rest of the
people. This division exists today, but it must be noted that there is, in
practice, absolutely no dividing wall between one and the other of these
classes. A capable member of the Heimin may rise, by
his own exertions, to the highest post in the State, and intermarriage between
one class and another, although still infrequent, is perfectly feasible.
Socially, there is far less demarcation between the classes than in the
monarchical countries of Europe, or than between the millionaires of the United
States of North America and their less wealthy fellow-citizens.
Along with so much that is good, Japan has imported from the Occident more than one thing that would better have been left outside its borders; there is, however, one foul thing that degrades Occidental, and especially British, humanity that has not obtained any hold in Japan : the Japanese has not become a snob. It is, indeed, one of the greatest marvels in a land of wonders that the intense feeling of veneration for the sovereign, the respect for his Court, the sentimental attachment to the ex-feudal lord, and the awe inspired by official rank are co-existent in Japan with a truly democratic spirit probably unequalled in any country except Switzerland or Norway. The reason is probably to be found in the self-respect, and consequent self-esteem, of every Japanese. High and low, rich and poor, are carefully trained from early childhood, and have been trained for untold generations, to treat all and sundry with that courteous consideration that honours the giver as much as the receiver. They have for ages appreciated the truth that rudeness is no sign of manliness, that courtesy of speech and manner are perfectly compatible with self-respect.
REORGANISING THE NATION
WITH the early 'seventies began the great period of
national reorganisation. The most intelligent men in
the land scoured the world in search of everything that might, perchance, be
usefully introduced into Japan, and the best technical advice was sought from
all parts of Europe and America. Hundreds of Occidentals, eminent in their
various callings, were engaged, at handsome salaries, to come to Japan and
guide the footsteps of the infant Power. Japan will never be able fully to
repay the debt she owes to these men. No pillar of stone, no brazen tablet, has
been erected to their memory by the Japanese. They need none. The noblest
monument in the world is that which the Occidental instructors and advisers
have erected for themselves—the New Japan that would not for generations to
come have reached its greatness had it not been for their devoted labours.
With rare insight, the rulers of Japan knew where to
look for the best help; they placed their infant navy under the charge of
British instructors; their army was organised and
trained according to the advice of Germans of the school of Moltke, after the
war of 1870-71 had shown their superiority over the French officers, at whose
feet the Japanese had hitherto sat. The system of national education—it would
perhaps be better to say national instruction—was modelled chiefly by
Americans, while the codification of the laws and the reform of jurisprudence
was the work of Frenchmen and of Germans. In medicine and surgery, too, the
Japanese sought instruction from German men of science. They learnt their
engineering, their chemistry and their electro-technical science at first from
Britons and Americans, but latterly, to a great extent, from Germans.
In many cases the Japanese have improved upon the
instruction imparted to them; in no case have they, so to say, swallowed an
Occidental idea whole. It is a very prevalent, but entirely erroneous, idea
that the Japanese have merely copied from the Occident. They have not adopted
so much as adapted, showing, in most cases, sound judgment in their selection
and great skill in modifying Occidental importations to suit Japanese
conditions.
Besides placing the intelligent youth of the
country—destined to carry on the work of governing the nation, of leading its
forces, of building its means of communication, of increasing its wealth—under
the tuition of the best obtainable foreign knowledge and skill, large numbers
of young men were sent to study abroad. The selection of these students, sent
out sometimes by the Imperial Government, sometimes by their ex-feudal lords,
was in the early days somewhat of a haphazard nature. The results obtained were
therefore scarcely commensurate with the great expense entailed, and the Government
found itself obliged, in the early 'seventies, to recall the majority of the
students who were maintained abroad from the public purse.
With the establishment of excellent facilities for
secondary and higher education in Japan, and the engagement of the best
procurable foreign professors and lecturers, it became possible for students to
complete their studies in the country at a very moderate cost to the
Government, and scarcely any expense to themselves. The disturbing influences
of residence in foreign countries, away from disciplinary control, were thus
obviated. Residence abroad, for the purpose of pursuing the higher branches of
their studies, was thenceforward reserved as a prize, to be obtained only as
the reward of extraordinary ability and application. The students who were sent
abroad under these revised conditions were consequently the pick of the youth
of the country. They achieved excellent results at the principal universities
and technical schools of Europe and America. Their industry, their
intelligence, and their excellent conduct won golden opinions for them and for
their nation. With very few exceptions, they seemed to feel that Japan's
reputation depended on their conduct, and they behaved accordingly. At first
the students, and the numerous officials sent abroad to investigate matters
connected with their particular departments, were much "lionised" by society in Europe and America. No public
function, no evening party, was complete without the presence of one of
"those delightful, interesting Japanese." But society soon tired of
its new toy, and the Japanese abroad found, after a while, that their social
life was restricted within rather narrow limits. In England they found
themselves welcomed chiefly in intellectual circles of rather advanced
opinions. The Philosophical Radicals—a class now practically extinct—took them
under their wing and exerted a considerable influence on the minds of the
students. Those were the days when the Japanese worshipped at the shrine of
Herbert Spencer, and derived their economic principles from the works of John
Stuart Mill. Had the rulers of Japan—for such those students eventually
became—continued to be guided by the principles imbibed abroad in the
'seventies, the course of history might have been different indeed. The great
watchwords that lingered on in Europe and America at that time—Free Trade,
Universal Peace, the Rights of Man, the Brotherhood of Nations, and other
high-sounding terms, as comforting to the minds of the period as "that blessed
word Mesopotamia", were imported into Japan by returning students, whose
influence was so great that the nation seemed likely to adopt their views,
however advanced and subversive.
Impelled by such ideas, Japan might have been a sort
of "proof-butt" for the firing of experimental shots by various
Utopian doctrinaires; it would not have become, in our time, the grimly
efficient power that now makes its stern influence felt even beyond the Far
East. An idealistic Japan, animated by advanced liberal theories, might have
suited the Occident far better; the West has only itself to blame if the Far
East has entered upon a different, more practical, course. It was Germany's
triumph over France that decided Japan's career at the parting of the ways.
Bismarck's policy of "Blood and Iron" established, by its emphatic
success, the principle that "Might is Right"; and the Far East,
always ready to admire strength and power, was not slow in learning the lesson.
From that time dates the powerful German influence
that swayed Japan until 1895, reaching its culminating point in the years
1886-7. The Constitution of Japan, which was originally intended to be
constructed in accordance with the British pattern, was ultimately inspired by
the Constitution of the Kingdom of Prussia, with its restricted popular
liberties. There is some reason in the explanation of this fact offered by a
Japanese statesman: "We went to London to study the British Constitution,
with the intention of taking it as our model, but we could not find it
anywhere; so we had to go to Berlin, where they showed us, with great
readiness, something that we could easily understand, for it was clear,
logical, and set forth plainly in black and white". So Japan participated
in the wave of reaction that swept over Europe in the last thirty years of the
nineteenth century. Protection, Militarism, Nationalism, Imperialism, Colonial
Expansion, replaced the old watch-words: Free Trade, Universal Peace, and the
Brotherhood of Nations, which were relegated to the lumber-room, where cobwebs
were already accumulating over the Rights of Man.
Whatever one's opinions may be, one must admit that
Japan took a wise course in devoting her energies primarily to making herself
immensely strong by sea and land, thus acquiring that sense of absolute
security indispensable to national development. It is quite certain that no
amount of progress in education, in arts, science, commerce, and industries, no
increase, however wonderful, in the institutions for promoting the welfare of
the population, would have earned for Japan the position among nations that she
has made for herself by the use of her keen-edged sword. "Pity 'tis, 'tis
true," but we need only carry our thoughts back to the Occidental opinion
of Japan before her victory over China in 1893 to realise that it was her military prowess that opened the eyes of the purblind West to
the fact that a new Great Power was arising in the Far East. When the makers of
New Japan set about constituting the armed forces that were to make the reorganised empire safe and, later, to "carry its
glory beyond the seas"—to use a Japanese phrase—they might easily have
adopted the system of voluntary service that still obtains in the British
Empire and in the United States of America, with this difference, that the
question of pay would have been a minor consideration.
They had ready to their hands, in 1868, about half a
million males of the military class—Samurai—hereditary warriors, the kind of
material any Occidental Minister of War would have given a year's budget to
have at his disposal. These born fighters would have flocked to the standards,
considering, as they did, that the profession of arms, even in its lowest
ranks, was the only one fit for a gentleman to follow.
But the makers of the new empire were wise men; they
decided that the pick of Japan's manhood, irrespective of class or wealth,
should man Japan's warships and fill the ranks of her Army. By so doing, they
not only ensured that their forces would combine intelligence with physical vigour, skill with strength, but they also prepared for the
nation a magnificent training-school where all the best elements of the
population could be further improved by being taught the great lessons of
devotion to the public weal, of self-sacrifice, of discipline, of order and
cleanliness—the last a "gilding of fine gold" in the case of such a
cleanly people.
So the law of universal naval or military service was
instituted, in 1873, placing every able-bodied Japanese male at the disposal of
his country from the age of seventeen to that of forty. In practice, only the
physically and mentally fittest are selected, joining the colours at twenty years of age, for an active service of three years if in the Army,
four in the Navy—the active service of the infantry of the line is about to be
reduced to two years. This is followed by service in the Reserve, for four
years in the Army, or seven years in the Navy, with periodical recalls to the colours for training and manoeuvres.
On leaving the Reserve, a Japanese is still liable during ten years to be
called upon for what is called "Depot Service" at home or abroad, in
case of extreme urgency. Not only are these military obligations cheerfully
borne by all classes—a premium is offered to young men of higher education by
allowing them the privilege of a reduction of their active service to one year,
during which they must qualify themselves for the duties of officers in the
Reserve—but they are eagerly entered upon and considered a personal honour.
The formation of this truly national army aroused
misgivings in the minds of many of the Samurai, who could not bring themselves
to believe that the Heimin, the common people, who
had hitherto been denied the privilege of bearing arms, could ever be made into
soldiers. Their opposition to the enrolment of peasants, craftsmen, and traders
had an element of personal interest, for military service, ashore or afloat,
seemed the only occupation open to the two-sworded men now that feudalism was abolished; had the armed forces been recruited
entirely from them, as in the past, their future would not have appeared so
gloomy.
It must be borne in mind that these feudal retainers
had, under the old system, little need of care for the morrow. They and their
families were kept by their feudal lords. Some of them obtained their pay—for
such it really was—from the rents of lands assigned to their ancestors by their
feudal masters, in return for military service; the majority received their
salary in rice. Some enjoyed pensions for life, as a reward for special
services. With the disestablishment of the Han, or feudal clan governments,
these pensions, and the whole system of feudal service, were bound to
terminate, but the Imperial Government recognised that the Samurai had a vested right that could not be ignored, so they decreed,
in 1873, that any Samurai who desired to commute his hereditary income could do
so, receiving the commutation, equivalent to six years' income, half in cash
and half in Government Bonds, bearing 8 per cent, interest; life- pensioners
could commute for the equivalent of four years' income, in the same proportion
of cash and bonds. In 1876 this commutation was made compulsory.
It will be of interest to Socialists to note that,
soon after this distribution of capital amongst the Samurai, many of them were
found to have fallen into great poverty. The energetic and clever ones made
excellent use of the means at their disposal. Equipped with the capacity for
ruling that was the result of their hereditary high position and privileges,
they managed to remain in the upper strata of society, and they virtually rule
Japan in our time. The less capable, the spendthrifts, the careless ones, sank
from their high estate and became gradually merged in the ranks of the common
people. Some of them are drawing jinrikisha in the streets of Tokio. A great number naturally entered the armed forces,
but as they could not all be officers, many of them had to be content with
warrant rank or non-commissioned ratings. The admirable police force is
recruited entirely from Samurai, or, as they are called, since 1878, Shi-zoku. The misgivings of the knightly class as to the
efficiency of the new Army, the majority of whose men were not Samurai, were
soon to be dispelled by its prowess in war, although its early victories were
gained over its fellow-countrymen, except in one case, and in that over
Formosan savages.
The new military law had only been in operation one
year when, in 1874, the troops had to be employed in quelling an insurrection
in the province of Saga, where a number of the discontented attempted to oppose
by force the great changes that were being introduced. In the same year, New
Japan sent its first warlike expedition across the seas; the savage aborigines
of Formosa were chastised for the massacre of some shipwrecked Japanese
fishermen, China, at that time the owner of the island, being totally unable to
control its unruly subjects in those parts. The expedition, the expense whereof
was ultimately refunded by China, provided but an unsatisfactory test of the
efficiency of the new army; the rugged, mountainous nature of the country
presented great obstacles to the movement of troops, but the fighting was
insignificant. Three years later, in 1877, the new Imperial forces were to
come, with brilliant success, through a very severe ordeal. The ultra-conservative
party in the powerful Satsuma clan, under the leadership of the famous General Saigo Takamori, the idol of the
Samurai, the very incarnation of the Japanese knightly spirit, had determined
to possess themselves of the Emperor's person, quite in the grand manner of Old
Japan, and to save him, so they said, from the evil counsellors who were
ruining the country with their absurd new-fangled notions. The truth is that
the High Toryism of these men of Satsuma was not unmixed with personal interests.
They considered that the Imperialists of other clans—and especially those of
Cho-shu and of Tosa—had
secured an undue share of the loaves and fishes. Saigo,
who had retired to Kagoshima in the sulks, had organised a vast system of military schools, at which 20,000 young Samurai were being
trained for war and imbued with deadly hatred of the Government.
After several ineffectual attempts on the part of
emissaries of the Government to come to an amicable understanding with Saigo, he began a march, at the head of 14,000 men, up the
west coast of Kiu-shu, with the intention of reaching Tokio. The great obstacle in his way was the ancient
castle of Kumamoto, built by the famous General Kato Kiyomasa,
after his Korean expedition at the end of the sixteenth century. This was
garrisoned by a force of between two and three thousand Imperial troops under
General Tani. Saigo made a
furious onslaught on the fortress, which was most gallantly defended, and
delayed his advance for several weeks. This gave the Government time to organise a large force, under the Imperial Prince Arisugawa. The preparation of the expedition was entrusted,
strangely enough, to General Saigo Tsugumichi, a younger brother of the great rebel. By
keeping him at headquarters at Tokio, busy with
matters of equipment and organisation, he was given
the opportunity of displaying his loyalty to the Emperor, without actually
taking the field against his brother. The Imperial forces relieved Kumamoto in
the nick of time, for the garrison was reduced to great straits. There was
desperate fighting, the besiegers were driven off and retreated towards the
east coast, and after a succession of desperate actions, in which they were
outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, they made a last stand
at Nobeoka, in the north-eastern corner of Hiuga.
Recognising the hopeless nature of their position, Saigo, with about two hundred of his adherents, broke
through the Imperial lines and escaped to Kagoshima. The bulk of his army
surrendered on August 19th, 1877; they had begun their northward march in the
middle of February of the same year. Saigo and his
devoted little band entrenched themselves on the hill Shiro-yama,
above Kagoshima, where they were surrounded and subjected to bombardment day
and night. The great rebel, wounded in the thigh, and seeing that all hope was
gone, retired into a cave, and committed hara-kiri, after having requested one
of his trusted lieutenants to behead him, which his friend promptly did, as the
last service he could render to his revered leader. When the Imperial troops
discovered the remains of the little band of heroes—the few who had not been
killed, some of them mere boys, had committed hara-kiri—they gave them decent
burial. Admiral Kawamura himself reverently washed the head of his dead friend
and fellow-clansman Saigo, whose memory is venerated
to this day as that of a brave knight and noble gentleman, who paid for his
misguided zeal with his life. A monument has been erected in Tokio to his memory, to which even the Imperial Court paid
homage, his honours having been posthumously restored
in 1890.
The Satsuma rebellion of 1877 was the last struggle of
moribund feudalism. It taught two great lessons: the powerlessness of the
ancient weapons, even though wielded by the bravest of the brave, when opposed
to modern armaments and Occidental tactics, drill, and organisation;
and the splendid fighting capacity of the common people when led by Samurai. It
could no longer be maintained by the Conservatives that the Heimin troops could never prevail against the hereditary warriors. The
newly-introduced universal military service was thus fully justified by its
works, and there could be no more question of restricting the army to the old
warrior class. The Satsuma clan soon settled down to peaceful pursuits, but it
continues to play a leading part in the affairs of the nation, supplying more
officers to the Navy and the Army than any other of the old clans, thus forming
the backbone of the strong Military Party.
In the early 'seventies, whilst the foundations of the
Imperial forces were being laid, Japan was, towards the outer world, much in
the same condition as a shellfish deprived of its shell. Fully cognisant of the danger they ran whilst the country was in
a state of transition, preparing its new armour, the
wise statesmen of Japan exercised remarkable prudence in dealing with such
international questions as might have involved them in war. It was thus they
came to an agreement, in 1875, with Russia, by which they exchanged such parts
of the island of Saghalin as were considered within
their sphere of influence for the long chain of the barren Kurile Islands (in
Japanese, Chi-shima, or "Thousand
Islands"). They were well aware of the bad bargain they were making, but
considered it preferable to a breach with Russia at a time when they were not
in a position to oppose a great Power with any chance of success. Patiently
biding their time, as is the wont of Orientals, some of those statesmen have
lived to see, thirty years later, the southern part of Saghalin restored to Japan, whilst the Kuriles remain in her possession.
They behaved with similar prudence when, in January,
1876, they found themselves compelled to despatch a
small expedition, under General Kuroda, to Korea, to demand satisfaction from
the "Hermit Kingdom" for an unprovoked attack upon a Japanese ship
calling for coal and provisions at a Korean port. The High Tories, especially
those of Satsuma, clamoured for immediate chastisement
of the Koreans, who had already incurred their wrath by neglecting to send a
congratulatory mission, as ancient usage demanded, on the accession of the
Emperor in 1867. The rulers of Japan wisely preferred to settle the matter by
diplomacy, and concluded a treaty with Korea, safeguarding the important
Japanese interests in that country. In 1879, the Riu-kiu,
or Loo-choo, Islands, the suzerainty over which had long been claimed both by
China and by Japan, were incorporated in the latter empire, as the Prefecture
of Okinawa, after diplomatic negotiations conducted with great skill. The
period from the abolition of feudalism in 1871 to 1887 was one of tremendous
activity and restless effort in the direction of reform. A great wave of
foreign influence swept over the land, culminating in 1873 and in the years
between 1885 and 1887, when the movement for "Europeanisation" became
a perfect rage, affecting not only administrative methods and national
institutions but social life. Many of the foreign features introduced into
public and private life in that epoch took Arm root, being recognised as great improvements on the old order of things; but every one of them
suffered a "sea-change" in crossing the ocean, being adapted,
generally with great skill, to national requirements, and coated, so to say,
with a layer of fine Japanese lacquer. Other importations, hailed at first with
enthusiasm, proved, by the experience of practical use, unsuited to Japanese
conditions, and were dropped as hastily as they had been taken up, leaving no
trace behind.
In 1871, the defunct feudal system was replaced by a centralised bureaucratic administration. The Daimiyo, being thus deprived of the last remnant of
authority that remained to them whilst they had been placed in charge of their
former clans, were "compensated" by the receipt of fixed incomes,
amounting to one-tenth of their former revenues. This arrangement, apparently unfavourable to the ex-feudal nobility, was in reality much
to the advantage of most of them, who were now relieved of the heavy charges
they had formerly borne for the expenses of the government of their fiefs and
the support of the Samurai families. The large sum that had to be raised by the
Government for the commutation, already described, of the pensions, or
salaries, of the Samurai class, was obtained by means of public loans.
The first foreign loan was negotiated in London, in
1870, bearing interest at 9 per cent., the proceeds being employed chiefly for
the construction of the first railway, between Tokio and Yokohama (eighteen miles), opened for traffic in 1872, and of that
between Osaka and Kobé. At the end of 1913, the total
mileage open to traffic was 5,606. The nationalisation of all the railways was decided upon in 1906 and has been gradually effected.
The State began purchasing the private lines, starting with seventeen
companies, whose property was to be bought within ten years from March, 1906,
and paid for with bonds bearing interest at 5 per cent., the purchase-price
being calculated thus: the average rate of profit, over cost of construction,
during six half-yearly terms (the first half of 1902, first and second halves
of 1903 and 1904, and the first half of 1905), is multiplied by twenty; the
figure thus obtained is then added to the cost of construction up to the date
of purchase and to the cost price of rolling stock and stores in hand at that
time. At the beginning of the fiscal year 1913—that is, in April of that
year—the National Debt of Japan amounted to $1,250,000,000 of which total $713,841,450
was owing to foreign creditors. The war with Russia increased the National Debt
of Japan from $267,729,500 by $765,141,500 to nearly $1,000,000,000.
These figures, those for railway mileage, and those
for the national indebtedness, bear eloquent testimony to the enormous increase
in facilities for internal communications and in the extension of the national
credit. In every direction the same astonishing development may be traced since
the Great Change in 1868. The system of lighting the coasts of Japan, now a
pattern for the maritime nations, dates its inception from 1870, the year which
also saw the birth of the network of telegraph lines that now covers the whole
empire. In 1871, the ancient method of conveying letters by postrunners,
a wonderfully speedy one considering its primitive nature, was supplanted by
the beginnings of a Postal Administration that has reached a high degree of
efficiency, handling, at the end of the fiscal year 1912, at 7166 post and
telegraph offices, 1,677,000,000 articles of ordinary mail matter. The total
length of telegraph lines amounted to 295,000 miles in 1913. The Imperial Mint
at Osaka was established, with British technical assistance, in 1871.
The first railway was opened, as already mentioned, in
1872, the year that also saw the birth of the newspaper press, with the
appearance of the first number of the Nisshin Shinjishi,
a periodical started by an Englishman named Black. There had been attempts at
the publication of newspapers, of a sort, in 1871, and as far back as 1864-5;
but Mr. Black's venture was the first serious step taken to provide the nation
permanently with something better than the news-sheets hawked about the streets
by newsvendors called yomi-uri, who bawled out their
wares, usually lurid accounts of some horrible murder, a fire or an earthquake,
very much in the style of the London newsboy's "'Orful slaughter!" of
bygone days. These roughly-printed broadsheets were issued spasmodically,
whenever some important event, or some crime sure to excite the popular
imagination, seemed likely to render their sale profitable.
The publication of Mr. Black's little journal was
followed by the establishment of purely Japanese journalistic undertakings—the Nichi Nichi Simbun (Daily News) in 1872, which still flourishes under the same title. The number
of periodicals has continued to increase steadily, especially since the
amendment of the Press Laws, in 1890, substituting the regular process of law
for the arbitrary jurisdiction of the censorship. Every periodical must have a
responsible editor or publisher, and any daily paper or other periodical
dealing with current politics must deposit with the authorities a sum, ranging
from $500 downwards, as security for good behaviour,
to cover eventual fines. The price of one of the Tokio dailies is as high as one cent and a quarter (2'5 sen)
; all the others cost half a cent (one sen). They are
all issued in the morning, except the only Tokio newspaper written, edited, and published in English by Japanese, which appears
in the evening. The charge for advertisements in the Japanese Press is from
18c. to 30c. per line of about twenty words. In 1903 there were 1,499
newspapers and other periodicals published in Japan, whereof seven were
English newspapers written, edited, and owned by foreigners, British or
American, and published in the foreign settlements at the late Treaty Ports,
the most important and oldest established being the Japan Mail, which
circulates throughout the country, and is widely read by Europeans interested
in Japanese affairs. This excellent periodical was established in 1865. Of the
nearly fifteen hundred vernacular periodicals, some are of high standing and
deserving of all praise. Many of the others, unfortunately, take the
"Yellow Press" of America and England as their model, and are
correspondingly mischievous and degrading.
Nearly every Japanese adult, and practically all the
young people of both sexes, are able to read, and make great use of this
ability. Even the sturdy men who do the work of horses, drawing the jinrikisha,
the cabs of Japan, seem to occupy the greater portion of their unemployed hours
in the daytime in reading newspapers or cheap, popular books. The craftsmen and
peasants are kept well informed of current events, and take an intelligent
interest in the affairs of the nation, the farmers especially often displaying
sound common-sense when they discuss, as they often do when the day's work is
over, the topics of the day. The greatest need in connection with the Press in
Japan is undoubtedly a more drastic law of libel, to check the slanderous
scandal that at present disfigures the "Personal" columns of all but
the very best journals, pandering to the national love of ill-natured gossip
about those in high official positions or otherwise prominently before the
public.
The year 1872 was also memorable for the establishment
of the first Protestant church, and for the foundation of the Imperial
University of Tokio. In the same year a special
embassy, with the former Court Noble, Iwakura, a
former Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs, at its head, was sent
out, first to the United States, thence to England and the Continent of Europe,
nominally "to communicate to the Governments of the Treaty Powers details
of the internal history of Japan during the years preceding the revolution of
1868, and the restoration of the Imperial power, to explain fully the actual
state of affairs and the future policy of the Japanese Government, and to study
the institutions of other countries, their laws, commerce and educational
methods, as well as their naval and military systems". The real object of
this embassy was to endeavour to obtain a revision of
the treaties, whereby the "Extra-territoriality Clause," withdrawing
foreigners from Japanese jurisdiction and placing them under that of the
representatives of their own nations, would be abrogated, thus removing a sharp
thorn from the Japanese national body. To such a proud, sensitive people, the
idea of foreign jurisdiction established on their territory was unbearably
galling. The embassy failed to secure the abrogation of the obnoxious clause,
and Japan had to wait twenty-seven years, till 1899, for the nations, Britain
leading, to treat her, for the first time, on terms of equality by consenting
to abandon the privileged position of their subjects and placing them under the
jurisdiction of the Japanese courts. The next year, 1873, was memorable for two
acts of progress—the adoption of the Gregorian calendar, and, more important,
the repeal of the edicts against Christianity that were still in vigour, in spite of repeated unofficial assurances that no
Japanese should suffer for his adherence to that faith. One of the first edicts
of the Imperial Government, after its establishment in 1868, ran as follows :
"The evil sect called Christian is strictly prohibited. Suspected persons
should be reported to the proper officials, and reward will be given for
detection." The immediate cause of this intolerant order was the
discovery, at Urakami, a village in the mountains
near Nagasaki, of a small community who had retained, in secret, some faint
reminiscences of the Iberian Catholicism openly practised by their forefathers in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It is said
that about 4,000 people in the district still carefully cherished the shreds of
doctrine and of ritual that had been thus wonderfully preserved, at the risk of
torture and death. In June, 1868, the Government ordered that all native
Christians who would not recant should be deported to different provinces as
dangerous persons, and put in charge of various feudal lords. The foreign
diplomatic representatives protested vigorously and successfully; the
Government, after striving to excuse its conduct by alleging the intense feeling
of the nation against Christianity, ultimately restored these faithful ones to
their homes. As already stated, in 1873 Christianity was no longer a misdemeanour, and there began the reign of toleration which
culminated in the right, assured to all Japanese subjects by the Constitution
of 1889, of freedom of religious belief "within limits not prejudicial to
peace and order, and not antagonistic to their duties as subjects."
This religious tolerance is, indeed, in accordance
with the real feeling of the Japanese in such matters. Having, as a rule, no
deep religious sentiment, as Occidentals know it, they pass easily from one
creed to another, many of them belonging to more than one religious
denomination, at all events as far as the outward observances are concerned,
and the majority of those educated in the higher schools being practically
Agnostics. The fact is that the Japanese of our time have been, and still are,
so busy acquiring the Occidental knowledge necessary for the transformation of
their country into the great naval, military, commercial, and industrial power
of the Far East, that, as they themselves have frequently stated, "they
have had no time to devote to religious questions." Nevertheless, whether
they be willing to admit it or not, the men of New Japan have been greatly
under the influence of Christian ideas, propagated by the numerous missionaries
within their borders or imbibed by Japanese students residence abroad,
especially in the early years of the present era. Although the number of
natives professing Christianity is not very great, amounting only to about
150,000 of all denominations out of a population of nearly 53,000,000, they
exercise a considerable influence, several of them occupying some of the
highest posts.
The rights assured to the Japanese by their
Constitution are borrowed from the liberties enjoyed by the citizens of
Occidental nations, whose laws are inspired by the spirit of Christianity, if
their policy be often sadly at variance therewith. In one respect Christianity
has, fortunately, succeeded in effecting a marked change in the Japanese: the
spirit of mercy so brilliantly in evidence in the treatment of defeated
enemies, and of the sick and wounded in war and the weak and suffering in
peace, especially in the humane work of that most admirable Japanese
institution, the Red Cross Society of Japan, with its membership of over a
million — all this is undoubtedly the outcome of Christian influence prevailing
over the old savage ruthlessness of the Japanese character. A generation or two
will have to pass before Christianity can totally eradicate the cruelty, the
deceit, and the spirit of revenge from Japanese natures—it has not yet, after
many centuries, succeeded in eliminating them from the bosom of some Occidental
nations; but there are good grounds for hoping that the Japanese of a not very
distant future will let Christianity accomplish, in that respect, what nearly
fourteen centuries of Buddhism have failed to do. Whatever form of Christianity
may ultimately claim the adherence of a large proportion of the Japanese
people—and they are, at present, bewildered by the multiplicity of "one
and only" direct routes to heaven offered to them— it will not be the
Christianity of Rome, nor of Canterbury, nor of Moscow, nor of the Salvation
Army; it will surely be a Japanese Christianity, and, perchance, nearer than
any of the others to the Christianity of Christ.
Meanwhile, the State religion of Japan is the ancient,
truly national, faith known as Shinto, meaning "The Way of the Gods",
a mixture of primitive Nature-worship and of the cult of the Kami, the spirits
of the Powers of Nature and the spirits of deified heroes, from whom the
Japanese claim descent—the noble families directly, the others in a more or less
vague way. It can hardly be termed a religion, as it has neither dogma, creed,
nor commandments. Its principal idea, which forms its sole ethical teaching,
is, roughly expressed, that, the nature of mankind being originally good, every
man may safely be left to his own devices, provided he always bear in mind the
duty of so regulating his conduct as to "make the faces of his ancestors
to shine with glory" and never to do aught that would cause them to blush.
The makers of New Japan sought to re-establish this ancient
cult in its original purity, cleansing it of the Buddhist overgrowth that had
accumulated since the cunning Buddhist priests of the Middle Ages had virtually
"annexed" Shinto, providentially discovering that the Kami of the
aboriginal faith were "avatars," or incarnations (in Japanese, gon-gen, or temporary manifestations) of the myriad Buddhas
who lived in this world and are now in Nirvana. The reformers, who had
succeeded in abolishing the "usurpation" that had so long flourished
as the Shogunate, were keen in scenting out usurpations. Surely, the mixture of
the original national cult with Buddhism, the creed favoured by the Shogunate, producing the strange composite religion known as Riyobu Shinto, or Shin-Butsu Gattai—"amalgamation of Shinto and Buddhism"—was a usurpation not
further to be tolerated.
So the reformers proceeded to disestablish Buddhism
with a thoroughness approaching that of Henry VIII in his suppression of
monastic institutions. The gorgeous paraphernalia of Buddhism, inspired by the
ornate art of ancient India, was cleared out of the annexed Shinto temples (Jin-ja), which were restored to their original austere
simplicity, resembling that of a bicycle-shed or a motor garage, and many
Buddhist monasteries were shorn of their fat revenues. The imported faith had
never succeeded in gaining a footing in Izumo, the "Land of the Gods"
(Kami-no Kuni), where the influence of ancient
tradition, making that district the scene of so many purely Japanese
mythological events, was too strong to be overcome, nor in Satsuma, whose
warlike people naturally looked upon meek and mild Buddhism as a creed unfit
for warriors; in the rest of Japan the disestablishment of the Indian religion,
and the Buddhism return to pure Shinto, was a serious matter.
That it was so easily accomplished indicates the
strength of the national movement, striving to reestablish the supreme
influence of the sacred Imperial power.
Like other creeds, Buddhism derived benefit from
persecution; a notable revival has taken place in that religion of late years.
Strangely enough, in its efforts to regain its lost predominance in Japan, it
has taken a lesson from the activity of the Christian missionaries. Every
feature that distinguishes missionary enterprise in the Far East has been
faithfully copied by the more enlightened sects of Japanese Buddhists,
especially by the wealthy and powerful Mon-to, or Shin-shu,
who have been called the Bhuddist Protestants (their
priests are allowed to marry; in fact, the priesthood is hereditary with them).
Buddhist chaplains march with the troops in the field, minister to the sick and
wounded, and preach to convicts in the gaols; Bhuddist priests and lay-helpers visit the poor, a popular
religious literature is widely circulated, Buddhist periodicals flourish,
seminaries are attached to the more important temples, the one belonging to the
great Nishi Hongwan-ji Temple of the Mon-to, at Kioto, being virtually a Buddhist university.
The same sect has formed a splendid library of
theological literature, embracing, with a praiseworthy broadness of view, works
in foreign languages dealing with all creeds. Mothers' meetings prison gate
missions, rescue work amongst fallen women, in short, all phases of Christian
activity have now their counterpart amongst the progressive Buddhists. Even
foreign missions have been undertaken, Buddhist priests working amongst the
tens of thousands of Japanese emigrants in the Hawaiian Islands and in
California, nothing loth to expound their ancient faith to non-Japanese
inquirers.
All this manifold activity is supported entirely by
voluntary contributions, the offerings of the faithful, mostly peasants and
craftsmen, pouring in, both in money and in kind. Thousands of poor women, who
have nothing else to give, cut off their long hair to be made into a huge cable
wherewith the main beam of the roof of a new temple is hoisted into position.
In 1877 the new state of things was, for the first
time, made manifest to one and all by the opening, in Tokio,
of the First National Exhibition of Arts and Industries, commencing a regular
series of such exhibitions, held periodically, alternately in the capital, at Kioto, and at Osaka, the first commercial and industrial
city of the empire. These admirably managed shows of Japanese natural and
industrial products led up to a great International Exhibition, held in Tokio in 1912.
In 1880 a great step forward was taken by the
promulgation of a new penal code and a coode of
criminal procedure, both inspired by a close study of the best foreign models.
In the same year, prefectural assemblies were
instituted, as training schools not only for provincial self-government but to familiarise the people with parliamentary forms as a
preparation for the introduction of the long-promised era of constitutional
government, the advent of which, in 1890, was officially announced, nine years
beforehand, in 1881.
The following year, 1882, was one of feverish
political activity, parties being busily formed in readiness for parliamentary
government.
Whilst Japan was preparing, from 1882, for the new era
that was to dawn with the promulgation of the Constitution, on February 11th,
1889, tremendous intellectual activity prevailed throughout the land. From 1868
to 1888, Occidental ideas permeated the minds of the rising generation. No man
did more to explain them to his fellow-countrymen than the great educationalist Fukuzawa Yukichi, the
"Sage of Mita" (a district of Tokio), whom the Japanese are fond of comparing to Arnold
of Rugby. This remarkable man, who was born in 1835 and died, regretted by the
whole nation, in 1901, probably exercised a greater influence on the minds of
those who now rule Japan than any other of their fellow-countrymen. Many of the
most prominent public men were educated at the great school, the Keio-gi-jiku, founded, and directed
for many years, by him. He was a prolific author and his works have had, and
still have, an enormous circulation.
The widespread Occidental influences affected every
phase of the life of the higher and middle classes, who strove, during the
decade prior to 1888, to alter their way of living after the fashion of the
West. The national costume was discarded by many, even by ladies, who underwent
much voluntary torture in the tight boots, with high heels, and the corsets, of
Paris for the sake of being "in the movement." In
1873, Government officials were ordered to wear European dress, uniforms
of European pattern were designed for all the Services, and an edict was issued
abolishing the little, stiff queue, the magé, that
Japanese men used to bring forward over the shaven forepart of the head, and
ordering the hair to be worn in the Occidental fashion. Many crazes turned the
heads of Tokio society in that period, from
rabbit-fancying (in 1873 as much as one thousand dollars being paid for a
single "bunny," the little animal having been, till then, unknown in
Japan) to waltzing. The rabbit craze did not last long; the Government saw its
chance, and imposed a poll-tax on the long-eared pets, whose price dropped
suddenly, ruining many gambler in rabbits. The craze for waltzing vanished as
rapidly as it had appeared, and the most that Japanese now attempt in the way
of Occidental dancing is the solemn, and perfectly correct, walking through a
quadrille at an official ball.
The succession of fashionable crazes, all more or less
derived from the Occident, lasted, in full swing, until 1889, when a severe
anti-foreign reaction set in. The cause of this set-back was political; it was
due to the nation's disgust at what it considered the rank injustice of foreign
Powers in refusing to abrogate the Extraterritoriality Clause in the Treaties.
The Japanese, conscious of the giant strides with which they were marching on
the road of progress, felt deeply humiliated by the continued refusal of
foreign nations to submit to the jurisdiction of Japanese courts of law. From
the Iwakura Embassy of 1872, the chief, almost the
sole, aim of Japanese diplomacy had been to obtain the removal of the obnoxious
clause.
Several times success had been within sight, but some
hitch had always occurred to frustrate the hopes of the nation. Its irritation
broke out in 1889 in the abovementioned wave of anti-foreign feeling, causing
most of the foreign innovations in the home and social life of the upper and
middle classes to be abandoned, which happened the more easily as they had
never taken firm root, being generally the result of the craze of the moment.
The life of the masses remained, and still remains, almost untouched by foreign
influences. Needless to say, the backward swing of the pendulum did not affect
essentials, such as the brand-new Constitution, nor the material importations,
such as railways, telegraphs, steamships, gas, petroleum, matches, which had
already become necessities to the people. Their introduction had caused new
wants to arise, and the cost of living was steadily augmenting; it still continues
to rise. In 1899, a family of the lower middle class, consisting of five
members and one servant, living in Tokio, and practising the strict economy usual with the Japanese,
required a monthly income of at least 35 yen, whereas in 1889 they could have
lived decently for 19 yen less than that sum. In 1901, the general average
index number of the price of commodities classed as necessaries was 97; it had
risen in 1904 to 108.
Since the war with Russia, prices have taken a great
leap upward, and the cost of living has much increased, whilst salaries and
wages, although they have risen steadily since the beginning of the new era,
have not kept pace with the rise in necessary expenditure. The increasing
demands on everyone's means, consequent on the Great Change, rendered the
acquisition of more capital absolutely necessary.
Japan's funds were at that time not large—the
resources of the country were not yet developed—and her rulers had to strain
every nerve to meet the enormous constantly growing, expenditure necessitated bv what may be termed the national outfit.
Japan was, in those years, and, to a certain extent,
still is, in the position of a new firm starting in manufacturing business. She
has to provide herself with plant, tools, and the thousand-and-one things
necessary for beginning operations. All these have had, and in great measure
still have, to be procured from abroad; hence the great excess of imports over
exports in nearly every year since 1871.
In the period from that year to 1905, only two years
showed an excess of exports over imports—1904—the first year of the war with
Russia, being the one in which the imports most largely exceeded exports, the
excess amounting to 167,004,000 yen. It will probably be some years before
the exports steadily exceed the imports. The extraordinary balance of trade in favour of Japan in 1906 was exceptional, and is not likely
to become a settled feature for some years to come. The progress of the foreign
trade of Japan under the new regime has been phenomenal; in 1871, the total
figure, exports and imports together, was $19,483,000; in 1912 it had risen to
$587,076,840.
The marvellous development
of commerce, and especially of industries, has been due to the fostering care
of the Government, which may be said also of the mercantile marine, whose
development, almost entirely due to a system of subsidies and bounties, has been
as wonderful as the industrial expansion that has raised a forest of tall
factory chimneys, belching forth a pall of smoke over the great cotton spinning
city of Osaka.
At the end of the year 1892, Japan possessed a
mercantile fleet of 214,000 tons; in 1902 the tonnage had risen to 934,000. In
1912 the steamers of the mercantile marine above 20 tons numbered 1981, and of
these 388 were over 1000 tons, while the sailing vessels over 100 tons,
numbered 1317.
Shipbuilding, which seems likely to become one of
Japan's greatest industries, is much encouraged by a law which awards valuable
bounties for the construction of steel-framed steamships of not less than 700
tons burthen. To the English-speaking races, hitherto staunch believers in
individualism, it may seem but an artificial, unhealthy prosperity that is
bolstered up in this way by support drawn from the national taxation. The
rulers of Japan, however, evidently think otherwise, and they have shown such
wisdom in many other directions that there is some ground for belief in their
being right also in respect of State-aided and State-controlled industries,
commerce, and navigation.
They have taken a keen survey of the world in our
time; the lesson it has taught them is that ours is the day of combined,
methodically organised effort, before which the
activity of even the most capable single individual must give way. They have
watched the growth of huge "trusts" in America, of
"combines" of various kinds in Germany and in Britain; they have
noted the tendency towards cooperation, which seems the only practical panacea
for the constant warfare between Capital and Labour,
that threatens the very existence of the social system of the Occident; and
they have resolved that Japan's economic activities shall be organised, drilled, and directed with the same
thoroughness, knowledge,and skill that have made
Japan's armed forces the wonder of our time. The national predisposition to
cooperation in guilds, the people's capacity for organisation,
subdivision of labour, and attention to minute
details, their amenability to directions from above, all seem to point to the
ultimate success of the tremendous task undertaken by Japan's rulers. As in
trade, in manufactures and in navigation, so in banking, the Government exercises
firm control, not only over the great Bank of Japan, founded in 1882, the
prosperous Yokohama Specie Bank, Limited, established in 1880, and over
the very important Industrial Bank of Japan, established in 1902—these
institutions may be looked upon as being, in reality, Government concerns—every
financial transaction of any magnitude comes under the cognisance of State officials, and is subject to their control.
It may be a purely private business, exempt from the
control by law established; it will, nevertheless, be dependent for its success
on the sympathy and goodwill of the powers that be, who constitute themselves
judges as to what is good, financially, for Japan.
All this naturally takes place sub rosa, and is
usually emphatically denied by Japanese, both official and unofficial. The
fact, nevertheless, remains, and is responsible for the tired feeling that
overcomes most of the Occidental capitalists desirous of utilising their funds in Japan, a lassitude that causes their early abandonment of the
held and the turning of their attention to countries where there is more scope
for individual action. In 1887, the dissatisfaction of the more ardent
reformers at the prudent slowness of the preparations for constitutional
government caused them to become so restless and aggressive that an edict,
commonly called the "Peace Preservation Act," was issued, enabling
the Government to keep them in order with a high hand, expelling many, for a
time, from Tokio, and imprisoning the recalcitrant.
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NOTABLE FIGURES IN THE HISTORY OF THE JAPANESE ARMYLieutenant General Terauchi & Field-Marshal Prince Yamagata |
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General Count Oku & Field-Marshal Prince Oyama |
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Field-Marshal Marquis Nodzu & General Count Nogi |
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THE JAPANESE BATTLESHIP KASHIMA
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IN 1888, on July 15th, on a fine, clear morning, the
great volcano Bandai-san —6,000 feet high—broke out
in a terrible eruption, that completely buried four hamlets, destroying 461
lives. The year 1889 was remarkable, as already stated, for the promulgation of
the Constitution and the establishment of local selfgovernment,
more under Government control than the type prevalent in Englishspeaking countries. In the same year the Imperial Prince Haru was proclaimed Crown Prince. The next year, 1890, saw the first parliamentary
election, on July 4th, and the opening of the first session of the Imperial
Diet on November 29th. The new civil and commercial codes were promulgated in
the same year. In 1891, the tremendous earthquake in the Gifu district killed
about ten thousand people. Within the next three years ominous portents of
great events began to be apparent to those who had eyes to see and ears to
hear. The Shadow determination of Russia to construct, with French capital, a
gigantic railway across Siberia foreshadowed her intention of becoming the
paramount Power in the Far East. In the year 1893 Major-General Fukushima, at
the close of his period of service as Military Attaché to the Japanese Legation
at Berlin, rode on horseback from the German capital to the Pacific Ocean,
arousing by his sportsmanlike feat incredible enthusiasm in Japan. The real
cause for the popular exultation was the fact that every Japanese knew that the
gallant horseman kept his eyes wide open and his keen brain alert during his ride
along the track of the proposed Russian railway. What he reported as to the
rate of its construction, and other portents he noted, confirmed the suspicions
of the Japanese Government as to the Muscovite designs. The Japanese spies, who
swarmed all over China, especially in the northern parts, also sent home
disquieting reports. It became evident to the clear-sighted statesmen in Tokio that the huge, flabby, weak and corrupt Chinese
Empire would, within a few years, pass entirely under the mastery of Russia. Li
Hung Chang, at that time the man who ruled the destinies of China, was a tool
in the hands of Russian agents. It had become known to the JapaneseGovernment that he was meditating an attack on Japan, with his fleet of excellent
warships, built in England and in Germany, and his army—drilled by German
officers—at the first favourable opportunity. The
ill-will with which China regarded New Japan—a nation it affected to despise as
"impudent dwarfs"—manifested itself in many directions, but more
especially in that truly distressful country, Korea. That kingdom, as it then
was, must always be within the sphere of Japan's vital interests. Japan could
no more allow a foreign Power to become predominant there than England could
permit an alien state to hold Ireland. Moreover, gifted by nature with rich
resources, waiting to be developed in a manner impossible with its small
population of people who, if physically fine, and mentally capable, are reduced
morally to a level so low as to deprive them of nearly all the qualities a
nation should possess, Korea is the natural receptacle for the oversow of Japan's teeming, rapidly-increasing population.
It is destined to be the granary of Japan, and is already the scene of great
commercial activity on the part of the Japanese, who possess flourishing
settlements there, some of them, like Fusan, from ancient times.
By diplomatic agreement, neither Japan nor China was
to preponderate in Korea, and, whenever the frequent disorder in that disturbed
country rendered it necessary for one of the two Far Eastern empires to land
troops for the protection of its subjects, due notice was to be given to the
other Power. Such was the compact entered into by the Convention negotiated at
Tientsin on April 18th, 1885, by Ito and Li Hung Chang. In 1894, a fanatical
sect (the Tong-hak) started a serious revolt in
Korea. The distracted Government of that country applied to their ancient
suzerain, China, for help. Japan immediately replied to this move by announcing
her intention of sending an expedition of equal strength to any China might despatch. The first Chinese expedition landed in Korea on
June 8th, the first Japanese four days later. The revolt was soon suppressed,
but on China informing Japan that it considered the trouble at an end, and that
the troops of both should be recalled, Japan stated that she thought the time
had come to confer with China as to the future of Korea, so as to avoid a
repetition of similar incidents. China refused to discuss the matter, prepared
for war, in her own spasmodic, reckless way, and continued to despatch troops to Korea. Over a thousand of these soldiers
were being conveyed in the British steamship Kowshing,
chartered by China. On the refusal of that vessel to submit to the orders of
Captain Togo—since known to fame as Japan's great admiral, "the Nelson of
the Far East"—that gallant sailor acted with quick decision. His ship, the
cruiser Naniwa, had met the Kowshing off Shopeiul Island, in the Korean Archipelago, on July 25th,
1894, and on that very day he sank the recalcitrant transport, whose British
captain and European officers were willing enough to surrender, but were
prevented from so doing by the Chinese officers and troops, who,
panic-stricken, had lost their heads and had filled the ship with a mutinous,
excited crowd, firing at random. The Japanese picked up the European officers
who had jumped overboard, and ultimately released them, after treating them
with great kindness. To save the drowning Chinese was not feasible, as they
kept up a frantic rifle-fire from the ports and the deck, not only at the
Naniwa's boats, but at the Europeans and at their own comrades, who had jumped
over the side, as they struggled in the water. This incident, virtually the
first hostile act in a war thus begun without a regular declaration, which was
issued, by both belligerents, only on August 1st, nearly embroiled Japan with
Britain, but the very able Minister of Foreign Affairs, the late Count M.
Mutsu, one of the ablest and most honest statesmen of New Japan, conducted the
delicate negotiations that ensued with such tact that Britain was satisfied
with an indemnity to the owners of the ship, paid by China.
On July 28th, 1894, the Japanese attacked and routed
the Chinese near Asan, in Korea. This success, gained by about 2,500 Japanese,
under General Oshima, over 3,000 Chinese, under
General Yeh, resulting in the capture of eight guns and large quantities of
stores and ammunition, made a great impression on the Koreans. A pro-Japanese
Cabinet was formed in Seoul, which concluded an alliance with Japan, inviting
its new friends to expel the Chinese from Korea. On September 15th, the
Japanese took Ping Yang, an important strategical point, on the Tai-dong River,
in the north-west of Korea, after a pitched battle, in which about
14.000 Japanese utterly defeated about 13.000 Chinese, capturing
thirty-five guns and an immense quantity of rifles, ammunition, and stores,
with a loss to themselves of 162 killed and 438 wounded, the Chinese losing
about 1,500 men on the night of the 15th alone, during their disorderly flight.
By this victory the Japanese virtually became masters
of Korea. Two days later, their Navy was to win an action that gave them full
control of the seas between Korea, China, and Japan. On September 17th, 1894,
the Japanese Fleet, consisting chiefly of unarmoured,
partially protected, cruisers, under ViceAdmiral Ito
(now a Count), gained a victory over the Chinese squadron, under brave old
Vice-Admiral Ting, whose five armoured ships (two of
them powerful battleships) and well-armed cruisers should have been much more
than a match for their opponents. It was the superior handling of the Japanese
ships, their greater speed, and better gunnery that won for them this action,
known as the Battle of the Yalu, owing to its having been fought in Korea Bay,
between the Island of Hai-yang and the mouth of the Yalu River.
The Chinese sailors fought bravely where their
captains gave them a chance of fighting—some of them, thinking discretion the
better part of valour, steamed out of action at the
first shots—but the absence of a knowledge of steam tactics on the part of most
of their commanders, and the diversity of speed of the various units of their
fleet, rendering it impossible for many of the ships to keep station in the
line of battle, placed them at the mercy of Ito's well-trained squadron, acting
like a perfectly-regulated machine.
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ADMIRAL TING
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The significance of this naval victory, by its
consequences the most important, at the time, since Trafalgar, cannot be
over-estimated. It heralded the birth of a new Great Power and the advent of an
entire change in the balance of power in the Far East. The present writer has
attempted to set forth, in his book, "The New Far East", the causes
that led to the war between Japan and China, the lessons that campaign taught
the world, and the consequences of Japan's victory over her huge adversary.
Exigencies of space forbid a detailed description in these pages of the moving
incidents of the conflict. Suffice it to record that on October 25th the
Japanese crossed the Yalu River and again scored a victory. Bearing all before
them, they advanced into Manchuria, until brought to a halt by the approach of
winter. In the meantime, a second Japanese army corps landed on October 24th on
the east coast of the peninsula of Liao-tung, took possession of Ta-lien-wan on
November 7th, and stormed Port Arthur on the 21st. The capture of this
"Gibraltar of the Far East" cost the Japanese only 270 casualties,
the extraordinarily small number of eighteen losing their lives in the action,
whereas the Chinese had more than a thousand killed. The fact is, the Chinese
had by this time become thoroughly demoralised, and,
besides, never had sufficient drilled troops to man the vast system of forts
and connecting defences that the Viceroy Li Hung
Chang had spent such vast sums in erecting—French and, later, German military
engineers supplying the admirable plans.
With the capture of this stronghold Japan had
apparently achieved her main object. It needed only the taking of the fortified
aval harbour at Wei-hai-wei, the opposite gate-post of the "Door of
Peking," to place the Chinese capital entirely at her mercy. It must be
borne in mind that this was the main purpose of the war—to obtain that control
over China that would otherwise inevitably have passed into Russian hands.
Thoroughly alarmed, the Government of China opened negotiations for peace, but
the pompous embassy that arrived in Japan, at Hiroshima, on January 31st, 1895,
reinforced by the presence of an American diplomatist, Mr. Foster, as
"unofficial adviser," was made ridiculous in the eyes of the whole
world by the refusal of the Japanese plenipotentiaries to negotiate with it,
the credentials of the envoys being found to be vague and insufficient. Thus
did this mission fail owing to the attempt of its Government to practise a childish trick. A prior, informal, peace
mission, entrusted to Mr. Detring, the Commissioner
of Imperial Chinese Maritime Customs at Tientsin, and the trusted adviser of
the Viceroy Li, had been politely bowed out of Japan when he attempted, soon
after the fall of Port Arthur, to open negotiations with the Japanese
Government, who, of course, refused to have any relations with an envoy of such
very inadequate rank, who was not even a Chinese.
Towards the end of January, 1895, a fleet of fifty
transports, protected by twenty warships, landed a Japanese division on the
coast of Shan-tung, near the town of Yung-cheng,
whence it marched to attack Wei-hai-wei, whilst a separate brigade proceeded all the way by
sea. On January 26th, the Japanese troops began the attack, and, after some
hard fighting on land and some daring raids into the fortified harbour by the Japanese torpedo-boats, Wei-hai-wei was taken on the
afternoon of February 2nd. The Chinese fleet, at anchor in the harbour, still had to be dealt with. By February 16th it
was in the hands of the Japanese. Vice-Admiral Ting, one of the few heroic
figures in the modern history of China, after a correspondence with
Vice-Admiral Ito that reads like an extract from Plutarch, committed suicide so
as to avoid the humiliation of conducting the surrender of his fleet. What
followed fills a bright page in the history of the war, illustrating that fine
sense of chivalry that still animates the warriors of Japan. Admiral Ito
returned to the Chinese their gun-vessel Kwang-tsi,
one of the captured fleet, with her officers and crew, in order that the
remains of China's greatest sailor might be conveyed to their last
resting-place in one of his own ships, under the Dragon Flag of the empire he
had served so faithfully. The Japanese even allowed the Kwang-tsi to retain her four guns, so that she might fire a
salute when her admiral's body was brought on board. Before she left her
anchorage, the officers of the Japanese fleet, and many from the troops on
shore, filed slowly past the coffin, solemnly and reverently saluting the
remains of the enemy who had fought so stoutly against them. As the Kwang-tsi passed between the long lines of the Japanese squadron,
flying at half-mast the dead Admiral's flag, every Japanese ship dipped her
victorious ensign, minute guns were fired, the ships' bands played funeral
marches, and the "Admiral's salute" rang out from Japanese bugles in honour of the gallant enemy who would fight no more.
Such chivalry befitted the knightly heroes of Japan,
for heroes they were, every one of them, those sturdy little brown men who
planted the flag of the Rising Sun on the citadel of Port Arthur, Asia's
strongest fortress, who marched through Korea and through the Liao-tung
Peninsula, wheresoever they listed, crumpling up the armies of China like so
much paper. They were heroes, every man, those dauntless bluejackets of Japan,
who smashed China's modern fleet at the Yalu Mouth, who "picked up the
pieces" of the defeated squadron, months later, at Wei-hai-wei. Their daring raids, with their torpedo-boats, into the harbour of Wei-hai-wei, under the guns of the forts, the swift "terrors
of the sea" crashing through the ice-floes in the bitter nights—more than
one gallant officer or man was found dead, frozen stiff, at the post of
duty—would have caused Nelson's heart to rejoice and made Cochrane's blood
tingle. And the folk at home, men and women too, were as heroic as the warriors
at the front.
Since classic times the world had not been treated to
the spectacle of such heroism, such patriotic devotion, such a noble spirit
animating a whole nation. The statesmen of the Occident rubbed their eyes at
the vision, to them a revelation of a new, unsuspected force; the naval and
military experts found themselves, to their surprise, learning great lessons in
the art of war from those who were but yesterday their pupils. They saw a great
army, numbering about eighty thousand men, conveyed across the sea and landed,
with its enormous supply of stores, on an enemy's coast without a hitch in any
part of the operation. They saw that army kept healthy and strong, apparently
unaffected by its herculean struggle against a difficult, roadless, broken
country and—in the latter part of the campaign—against a terrible arctic
winter. They knew this success was due to the best system of commissariat,
supply and transport, ever seen in the field, working with automatic,
mechanical regularity; and to an Army Medical Corps that was pronounced by a
high British military-medical authority—Surgeon-General Taylor, R.A.M.C.— who
witnessed its work in the war, to be "the nearest approach to absolute
perfection."
From the actual fighting on land but little could be
learnt, as the medley of well-trained, German-drilled troops, armed with the
latest weapons, and of an undisciplined rabble of matchlock-men, bowmen and
spearmen, that constituted the "army" of China, had so little notion
of "playing the game" that its futile, though sometimes gallant,
efforts were foredoomed to failure. From the naval actions, however, much
useful instruction was to be derived; they revealed the great danger arising
from the presence of woodwork, catching fire at the long flames caused by the
bursting of shells charged with high explosives; they demonstrated the value of
speed and of handiness in steering. The whole course of the war bore testimony
to the absolute necessity, in a campaign overseas, for harmonious, carefully
rehearsed cooperation of the naval and military forces. Above all, this
conflict inculcated once more the great lesson Captain Mahan had so clearly
expounded—the supreme importance of sea-power.
THE SINKING OF THE CHINESE TROOPSHIP KOWSHING IN
JAPANS WAR WITH CHINA IN 1891. At the outset of the Chino-Japanese War In 1894,
the British steamship Kowshing, chartered by the
Chinese, was despatched to Korea with a thousand
troops. The vessel was met by Captain, later Admiral, Togo, in his cruiser, the
Naniwa, in the Korean Archipelago, on July 25th, 1894, and on that day the Kowshing was sunk. The British captain and the European
officers on board, who vainly advised the Chinese to surrender, were picked up
by the Japanese.
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Japan's success had been followed with sympathetic
attention by the chief nations of the Occident, by the people if not by their
Governments. The Germans, especially, watched with delight the prowess of their
apt pupils. The British nation, insufficiently informed, as it often is in
questions affecting its vital interests abroad, had, at the outset of the
conflict, "backed the wrong horse," feeling convinced that its
"old friend"— it is difficult to see where the "friendship"
ever manifested itself—and good customer, China, was bound to prevail in the
end over the daring little islanders, owing to her huge population, her
"unlimited resources," her "tremendous latent power." Those
were catchwords of the day that appealed to the mind of the Briton, accustomed
to hear them used in connection with his own vast, loosely-connected,
ever-unready empire. When events proved that China's resources and population
availed her so little that she was cowering under Japan's blows, that her
"tremendous power" was so "latent" it could not be found
when wanted, there was a revulsion of British public sympathy, which was
transferred, as if by magic, to the winning side. The few who, like the present
writer, had all along predicted, as a foregone conclusion, the victory of
Japan, were no longer looked upon as "visionary enthusiasts," and
popular attention was riveted on Japan for a quite considerable time,
considering the fickleness of "public interest."
With the fall of Wei-hai-wei and the surrender of the remnant of the once so
renowned "Northern Fleet," China's rulers understood that they must
sue for peace, without the prevarication and delays so dear to them, if they
wished to keep the victorious Japanese forces from marching on Peking. They
reluctantly decided to send the Viceroy Li Hung Chang, their foremost
statesman, to Japan. He arrived on March 19th, 1895, at Shimonoseki, the place
appointed by the Government of Japan, whose plenipotentiaries were Count Ito
(now Prince) and the late Count Mutsu. It looked as if the victors were about
to impose harsh terms, when an incident occurred that greatly modified their
attitude and turned out much to China's advantage. On March 24th, as the
Viceroy Li was returning, borne in his palanquin, from a conference with the
Japanese plenipotentiaries, a half-crazy fanatic named Koyama fired a pistol at
him, almost pointblank, the bullet entering the cheek near the nose. The wound
was, fortunately, slight and soon healed; but the feelings of sympathy for the
aged statesman, who had so far overcome his proud nature as to sue for peace,
it aroused amongst the Japanese, from the Emperor downwards, and the nation's
sense of shame at the outrage, caused every consideration to be shown to the
envoy, on whom kindness attentions were showered, and resulted in the granting
of an armistice and the facilitation of the negotiations.
The treaty of peace was signed at Shimonoseki on April
17th, 1893. By its terms, China and Japan "recognised the independence of Korea"—a solemn farce that has been repeatedly
performed, leaving that country on each occasion less "independent"
than before. China agreed to pay, and did pay, an indemnity of 150,000,000
dollars, and ceded to Japan the rich island of Formosa, or Taiwan, the
strategically important Pescadores (or Hokoto) Group,
lying between China and Formosa, and—most important of all—the Liao-tung
Peninsula, in which Port Arthur is situated.
This last cession caused grave misgivings to several
Powers, more especially to Russia, who had long ago marked down Port Arthur to
be hers at no distant date. France naturally shared the feelings of her
"dear friend and ally"—at that time the most touching affection
united the French to their Russian allies and debtors. They cherished the
alliance, and well they might; it had cost them 1,500,000,000 dollars, the amount
of French capital lent to Russia, or invested in Russian undertakings, at the
time in question. The great Trans-Siberian Railway was being constructed with
part of that moneys and the French were naturally much concerned as to the fate
of Port Arthur, and of Manchuria in general.
The Powers consulted one another as to what should be
done; Russia and France soon decided that Japan must not be allowed to remain
in possession of Port Arthur, nor of any territory on the mainland. Germany,
with startling suddenness, threw away the exceptional influence she enjoyed in
Japan, with the commercial advantage it gave her, and earned the undying
ill-will of the Japanese people by joining Russia and France in a sort of
unholy alliance to coerce Japan, an alliance indirectly active against British
prestige and interests in the Far East, as events proved. Britain had been
invited to join Russia, France and Germany in their action, but the three
Powers "advised" relinquish her claim to any Chinese territory on the
mainland, "in the interests of the permanent peace of the Far East"!
Their rank hypocrisy seems almost incredible when one thinks of subsequent
events—the German seizure of Kiao-chau, the barefaced
Russian "leasing" from China of Port Arthur, the so-called Boxer
outbreak provoked by the German "grab," the terrible war of 1904-5,
due entirely to the Russian one. Japan had to yield. She could not think, at
that time, of facing, alone, a coalition of the three greatest military powers
of the world—for so they then appeared to be; Russia was not yet found out—and
no help could be expected from Britain, to whom Russia, even without partners,
was, in those days, a paralysing "bogey."
The cause of the German Emperor's unexpected action in
joining Russia and France was, probably, fourfold. Firstly, his anxiety to
oblige his huge neighbour, Russia; next, his ardent
desire to secure the goodwill of France; thirdly, the wish to inaugurate a
strong German policy in the Far East, and lastly, perhaps principally, his idée
fixe, "the Yellow Peril," then germinating in his active brain.
The origin of the germ has been attributed, by some who claimed to be behind
the scenes, to the audience to which the Kaiser summoned, immediately the
Japanese terms of peace became known, his Excellency Dr. Max von Brandt, for
many years Germany's diplomatic representative at Far Eastern courts. The
Japanese courteously thanked their "dear friends" for their
"kind and disinterested" advice, and—at a word from their
Emperor—accepted the situation, relinquishing their claim to the Liaotung
Peninsula and receiving, as compensation, fifteen million dollars more, added
to the indemnity already agreed upon. They bowed to the inevitable with a deep
sigh, and then clenched their teeth and grimly began those silent preparations
that lasted nine years and led the Sunrise Flag once more to the topmost fort
of Port Arthur, where it now flies, this time defying any coalition to haul it
down.
The two great tasks to which Japan applied her
energies directly after the conclusion of the treaty of peace with China
were—apart from the strengthening to an enormous degree of her Navy and her
Army—the pacification and civilising of her splendid,
but turbulent, new dependency, the island of Formosa, and the settlement
affairs of Korea.
In the first task she has succeeded admirably, after
some initial mistakes, soon rectified. In 1905, the item "subsidy from the
Imperial Government" disappeared, for the first time, from the Estimates
of the island's financial position; the same cheering omission took place in
1906—the colony had become self-supporting within ten years. In Korea the
Japanese were less successful. The Anti-Japanese Party in that country had
gained strength after the war and influenced the Court and official circles, deriving
its chief support from Queen Min, a woman of great determination and cunning. A
plot was formed by certain Japanese adventurers and their Korean accomplices to
"remove" the obnoxious Queen, who had acquired complete mastery over
the weak, vacillating King.
MEMORIAL TO THE QUEEN OF KOREA
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It has been alleged that the Japanese Minister at
Seoul instigated the conspiracy, but an official investigation failed to
discover proofs of his complicity. Whether officially encouraged or not, the
conspirators, on October 8th, 1895, broke into the royal apartments and
murdered the queen with a barbarity that is recalled by a more recent foul
tragedy at Belgrade. The miscreants hoped that, freed from the influence of his
consort, the King would become more amenable to Japanese advice. On the
contrary, fearing he might be the next victim, his agitated Majesty sought
sanctuary at the Russian Legation, where he held his fugitive Court from
February, 1896, to February, 1897.
This, naturally, gave Russia preponderating influence
in his kingdom, and she made full use of her advantage, to the detriment of
Japan, who found herself worse off in Korea than before the war. The strained
situation, a conflict of intrigues between the Russian and Japanese Legations,
could not last, and, after much diplomatic parleying, the two Powers entered
into agreements, in May, 1896, at Seoul, and in July of the same year at St.
Petersburg, by which they undertook to respect the independence" of Korea,
that has so often been object of similar declarations, and fixed the number of
troops each of them might maintain in Korea, for the protection of its subjects
there, at 1,000 men. Japan must have signed this compact with a wry face, for
it still left her with Russia for a competitor in Korea instead of China—as
before the war—and she could hardly hope to profit by the change.
| A JAPANESE COUNCIL OF WAR, AS DEPICTED BY A JAPANESE ARTIST |
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THE INFANCY OF THE JAPANESE ARMY: FRENCH-DRILLED
TROOPS MARCHING IN 1870
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| END OF THE CHINA-JAPAN WAR: SURRENDER OF CHINESE
GENERAL AND STAFF AFTER THE FALL OF WEI-HAI-WEI. The dauntless soldiers of
Japan had "crumpled up the armies of China like paper." Her sailors,
who crushed the Chinese fleet at Yalu River, "picked up the pieces of the
defeated squadron" at Wei-hat-wei on February
2, 1895. With the fall of Wei-hai-wei and the surrender of the Northern Fleet, China's rulers understood that they
must sue for peace.
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GENERAL KUROKI, COMMANDER OF JAPANESE FIRST ARMY IN THE WAR WITH RUSSIA It was Count Kuroki's First Army which gained the first great land victory at Kiu-lien-cheng and played an important part in the last great defeat of the Russian Army at Mukden after a week of fighting, day and night. |
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