Japanese Chronology—Satsuma and Chōshiū Clans—The “Charter Oath.”
In the movement which swept away the Tokugawa Shōguns two cries were
raised by the Imperialists: “Honour the Sovereign” and “Expel the
foreigner.” They constituted the programme of the party. No sooner had
the revolution been crowned with success than the second part of the
programme was abandoned. The bulk of the military class had been led to
believe that the downfall of the Shōgunate would carry with it the
withdrawal of foreigners and the closure of the country. But the wiser
heads among the revolutionary leaders recognized that this plan was
unrealizable. They had at one time, regardless of consequences,
encouraged the cry in order to stir up popular feeling against the
Shōgunate. But with the disappearance of the Yedo Government the
situation had changed. Moreover, in the course of the fifteen years
which had elapsed since Perry’s Treaty the first bitterness of
anti-foreign feeling had begun to wear off. Earlier ignorance of the
outside world had given way to better knowledge. Closer association with
foreigners had revealed the prospect of certain benefits to be derived
from foreign trade, while the fighting at Kagoshima and Shimonoséki had
been an object-lesson to many, whose reading of history had given them
inflated ideas of the strength of their country. There were, also, among
the leaders men who were aware not only of the military weakness of
Japan, as compared with foreign nations with whom treaties had been
concluded, but of the importance of introducing changes on the lines of
Western civilization in many branches of administration. So the
foreigner remained, and the foreign policy of the Shōgunate was
continued. The other cry of “Honour the Sovereign” permitted much
latitude of interpretation. The talk about establishing direct Imperial
rule, in which Imperialists so freely indulged, was scarcely intended to
be taken literally, any more than the vague phrases in the manifestos of
the time regarding the abolition of dual government, for the personal
rule of the Sovereign was in historical times unknown. It simply
expressed indirectly the main object in view—the cessation of Tokugawa
rule. This aim was achieved, and more easily than had been anticipated;
but the dual system of administration, and the figure-head method of
government, were too deeply rooted to be removed all at once, even had
there been a desire to do so. The Shōgunate was, therefore, replaced by
a government of the clans which had taken a leading part in the
Restoration, while the figure-head method of rule worked on as before.
The Restoration ushered in what is known as the “Meiji Era,” or “Era of
Enlightened Government,” this being the name given to the new
year-period then created. The point is one of no little significance.
This year-period marked the beginning of a reign more fruitful in rapid
and far-reaching changes than any which had preceded it; it synchronized
with the rise of Japan from the position of an obscure Asiatic, country
to that of a Great Power; and it was chosen with undeniable fitness as
the posthumous name of the monarch with whose death it ended. In
dwelling on it, it will be necessary to go somewhat fully into the
rather complicated question of Japanese chronology, which calls for
explanation.
There were formerly four ways in Japan of reckoning time. These were:
(1) By the reigns of Mikados; (2) by year-periods (_Nengō_), which
constantly overlapped, one ending and the other beginning in the same
year of our chronology, so that the last year of the former was the
first year of the latter, the year in question, which never began on the
first day of the first month, having, therefore, two designations; (3)
by the Chinese sexagenary cycle; and (4) by computation from the first
year of the reign of _Jimmu Tennō_, the mythical founder of Japan. The
first was used at an early date in historical compilations. It ceased to
be employed long ago, and the records based on it are unreliable. The
second was borrowed from China at the time of the “Great Reform” in the
seventh century, which gave its name to the first Japanese year-period.
This and the third, the sexagenary cycle, were used both alone and in
conjunction with each other. The fourth system (based on the imaginary
reign of the mythical founder of Japan about the year 660 B.C.) is of
comparatively recent origin, its adoption being due to the same somewhat
far-fetched patriotism which encourages belief in the divinity of
Japanese sovereigns.
The year-period, or _Nengō_, copied from China, had in that country a
special _raison d’être_, for it changed with the accession of a new
Emperor, its duration being consequently that of the reign with which it
began. In Japan, owing probably to the seclusion of the Sovereign and
the absence of personal rule, the year-period had no direct connection
with the reign of a Mikado or the rule of a Shōgun, the correspondence,
when it occurred, being, with few exceptions, merely fortuitous. As a
rule, some unusual or startling event was made the reason for a change,
but in Japan, as in China, great care was bestowed on the choice of
propitious names for new year-periods. Since the Restoration, however,
it has been decided to follow the old Chinese practice, and create a
fresh year-period on the accession of a new sovereign. This decision was
put into force for the first time on the death of the late Emperor in
1912. The _Meiji_ year-period then came to an end, and a new
year-period, _Taishō_, or “Great Righteousness,” began. Owing to the
overlapping of year-periods, to which attention has been called, the new
year-period dates from the same year as that in which the preceding
_Meiji_ period ceased.
The sexagenary cycle was formed by combining the twelve Chinese signs of
the Zodiac, taken in their fixed order, namely, “Rat,” “Bull,” “Tiger,”
“Hare,” etc., with what are known as the “ten celestial stems.” These
ten stems, again, were formed by arranging the five primitive
elements—earth, water, fire, metal and wood—into two sections, or
classes, called respectively “elder” and “younger brother.” This
arrangement fitted in exactly with a cycle of sixty years, a number
divisible by ten and twelve, the numbers of its two component factors.
When the year-period and the sexagenary cycle were used in conjunction
with each other, it was customary to mention first of all the name of
the year-period, then the number of the year in question in that period,
and then, again, the position of the year in the sexagenary cycle.
Formerly, too, the month in Japan was a lunar month. Of these there were
twelve. Every third year an intercalary month was added in order to
supply the correction necessary for the exact computation of time. There
was no division of time corresponding to our week. This, however, came
gradually into use after the Restoration, the days being called after
the sun and moon and the five primitive elements. The weekly holiday is
now a Japanese institution. There are also in each year twenty-four
periods of nominally fifteen days each, regulated according to climate
and the season of the year, which are closely connected with
agricultural operations, and bear distinctive names, such as “Great
Cold,” “Lesser Cold,” “Rainy Season,” etc. Each month, too, is divided
into three periods of ten days each, called respectively _Jōjun_,
_Chiūjun_ and _Géjun_, or first, middle and last periods.
With the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar, which came into force on
January 1st, 1873, the sexagenary cycle and lunar month disappeared, and
with them, of course, the quaint Zodiacal appellations of the years. The
other distinctive features of Japanese chronology have survived. There
are now three recognized ways of computing time annually—by
year-periods, by the Christian Calendar and by the National Calendar,
dating from the year 660 B.C. The year 1921 may therefore be spoken of
either as we do, or as the tenth year of _Taishō_;, or as the year 2581
of the National Calendar.
The adoption of the Gregorian Calendar caused some grumbling, as it did
when introduced in England in the eighteenth century, where it was
received with the cry: “Give us back our eleven days.” In Japan there
was more reason for complaint, for the year 1872 was shortened by no
less than twenty-nine days, what would, under the old calendar, have
been the third day of the twelfth month of the fifth year of _Meiji_
being altered so as to become the first day of the first month of the
sixth year of Meiji (January 1st, 1873). Much inconvenience and even
hardship were occasioned by the change, since the end of the year, the
time chosen, is the time fixed for the settling of all accounts between
debtors and creditors.
The Restoration was the work of four clans—Satsuma, Chōshiū, Hizen and
Tosa—whose territories lay in each case in the south-west of the
country, though they had no common frontiers. The formation by feudal
chiefs of alliances of short duration for definite objects had been the
distinguishing characteristic of the unsettled times which preceded the
establishment of Tokugawa rule. This was put an end to by the Tokugawa
Shōguns, who by various measures, already described, kept the feudal
aristocracy in complete subjection. As soon, however, as the power of
the Shōgunate began to decline, the independent spirit of the clans
reasserted itself. This tendency was encouraged by the attitude of the
leading Tokugawa families. On Perry’s arrival the House of Mito had
supported the Court against the Shōgunate on the Treaty question; while
the House of Owari a few years later sided with Chōshiū in its second
and successful struggle against the Yedo Government, thus definitely
abandoning the Tokugawa cause. The alliances formed in this regrouping
of the clans were of the same artificial kind as those which had taken
place in earlier feudal days. Apart from the common object which brought
them together, the overthrow of Tokugawa rule, there was no real
sympathy between any of the four clans which took the chief part in the
Restoration. It would have been strange if there had been, for it was no
part of the policy of any clan, whose frontiers were jealously guarded
to prevent the entry of strangers, to cultivate friendly relations with
another. In the case of two of the allied clans, Satsuma and Chōshiū,
special difficulties stood in the way of an understanding. They had long
been rivals for the confidence of the Court, while the constant changes
in the relations between Kiōto and Yedo gave opportunities for further
friction and jealousy. More recently, too, the sinking of a Satsuma
steamer by Chōshiū forts, the Chōshiū raid on the Imperial palace and
the subsequent invasion of Chōshiū territory by the Shōgunate, on both
of which occasions Chōshiū clansmen found themselves fighting against
those of Satsuma, had created a feeling of active hostility. The author
of “_Ishin Shi_,” or “History of the Restoration,” explains how these
difficulties were eventually removed by the exertions of men in the
Satsuma clan, whom the critical position of affairs brought to the
front, by the mediation of men of influence in the Tosa, Hizen and other
clans, whose political sympathies lay in the same direction, and by the
co-operation of certain Court nobles, whose knowledge of domestic
affairs gained in the conduct of relations between the Court and
Shōgunate, and whose position at the Court were of great value to the
Imperialist party. Some of these Court nobles had been placed in the
custody of the daimiō of Chikuzen after the suppression of the first
Chōshiū rising, and through their efforts, and those of the other
mediators already mentioned, a friendly understanding was at length
established between Satsuma and Chōshiū clansmen. This obstacle having
been removed, a plan of campaign was discussed and settled by the four
clans. The military strength of the alliance thus formed was soon proved
in the short struggle which ended in the fall of the Shōgunate.
[Illustration:
ŌKUBO ICHIZŌ.
A leading figure in the Restoration Movement and, until his early
death, a member of the Government subsequently formed. His death
occurred before the creation of the new peerage, but his son, the
present Marquis, was ennobled in recognition of his father’s
services.
]
There remained other problems of a political kind. These were solved by
degrees in the sequence of events. Not the least of these was the form
of the Government which should replace that which had fallen. On this
point there had before the Restoration been much divergence of opinion.
According to the author of _The Awakening of Japan_ the Satsuma
“Federalists,” as he calls them, wished to reorganize the feudal system
much on the lines existing in the half century that preceded the
Tokugawa domination. The Chōshiū leaders, we are told, sought their
ideal further back. They advocated the restoration of the Imperial
bureaucracy of pre-feudal days. This view, supported by the Court
nobles, who perhaps hoped by increasing Imperial prestige to strengthen
their own position, was the one which ultimately prevailed. There were
two powerful arguments in favour of its adoption. One was the
inadvisability of attempting to retain the constitution of the previous
Government, even had it been possible to do so. Another lay in the
necessity of taking full advantage of the current of popular feeling in
favour of the Restoration, and at the same time, while as yet the
influence of the rising men was small, to work as far as possible
through the class of Court nobles who had administered this system in
early days.
The form chosen for the new administration was that of the bureaucratic
system of pre-feudal days, modified to some extent by innovations copied
from abroad. The chief feature in this administration was its division
into eight departments. Two of these, the Department of Supreme
Administration and the Department of Shintō (which dealt only with
matters concerning the native faith, Shintō), ranked together, and
before the other six, one of which dealt with legislation, while the
remaining five corresponded in a general way to similar Departments in
Western countries. As between the two senior Departments, however,
though authority was nominally equal, the greater prestige lay with the
Department of Shintō.
It will be seen that the new Government, formed in the spring of 1868
before the final surrender of the Tokugawa forces, was at best a
patchwork attempt at administrative reconstruction. Its pre-feudal form
had little in common with the feudalism that still survived, nor was it
possible to harmonize innovations borrowed from the West with an ancient
system in which the highest place was reserved for the department which
controlled all matters connected with the primitive Shintō cult. In the
autumn of the same year, and at various times in the course of
succeeding years, many administrative changes were introduced. Into the
details of these it is unnecessary to enter at length. They will be
referred to, when essential, subsequently in the course of this
narrative. It will suffice for the present to note that a Council of
State, the constitution and functions of which were modified from time
to time so frequently as to puzzle the administrators themselves, was
substituted in place of the Department of Supreme Administration, thus
reducing the number of departments to seven; and that the Department of
the Shintō cult underwent many vicissitudes, being eventually reduced to
the comparatively humble status of a bureau in the Home Department, a
position which it occupies to-day. As might have been expected in the
case of a Government which came in on the cry of the restoration of
Imperial power, at a time when an atmosphere of semi-divinity still
surrounded the Court, the new Ministry included several Imperial princes
and Court nobles. Prince Arisugawa became President of the new
Government, while the two Court nobles, Sanjō and Iwakura, who had been
largely instrumental from the first in promoting the clan alliance which
overthrew the Shōgunate, were appointed Vice-Presidents. Two other
Imperial princes and five Court nobles were placed at the head of the
remaining seven departments, the second position in three of these being
given to the daimiōs of Échizen, Aki and Higo. Among those who held
offices in minor capacities were Ōkubo and Terashima of Satsuma, Kido of
Chōshiū, Gotō of Tosa, Itō and Inouyé, the two young Chōshiū clansmen,
who, on their return from England in 1864, had tried without success to
prevent the Shimonoséki hostilities, Ōkuma of Hizen and others whose
names are household words in Japan.
In the group of princes and other notabilities above mentioned the only
outstanding personality was Iwakura, who at once took a leading place in
the direction of affairs. The rest took no active part in the
administration. They were simply convenient figure-heads, lending
stability and prestige to the new order of things, their presence also
carrying with it the assurance that the main object of the Restoration
had been accomplished.
In spite of the Western innovations embodied in its constitution the
form assumed by the new Government gave little indication of the radical
reforms which were destined to be accomplished in the course of the new
reign. In the very year of its birth the murderous attack on the British
Minister and his suite when on the way to an audience of the Emperor in
Kiōto furnished incontestable proof of the existence still of much
anti-foreign feeling. In view, however, of the fact that the cry of
“Expel the foreigner” had continued until the eve of the downfall of the
Shōgunate, and that up to the last moment the bulk of the military class
in many districts was led to believe that the Restoration would be
accompanied by the closure of the country, it was not surprising that
the survival of anti-foreign feeling should show itself in fanatical
outbursts of this nature. On the other hand, the employment in
subordinate posts under the new Ministry of men of the military class
who were known to be convinced reformers furnished good evidence that
the policy of the new Government would, if their views prevailed, be
progressive and not reactionary. And further proof of the new and
radical departure contemplated by those active spirits in the Government
was supplied by what is spoken of as the “Charter Oath” taken by the
young Mikado on the 6th April, 1868, after the new Government had been
formed.
In this Oath he announced his intentions in unmistakable language which
undoubtedly reflected the ideas and aspirations of the reformers. The
first of the five clauses of the Oath furnished the keynote of the
whole, pointing, as it did, to the creation of parliamentary
institutions. “Deliberative Assemblies”—so it ran—“shall be established
on an extensive scale, and all measures of government shall be decided
by public opinion.” And the last clause reinforced the resolution
expressed by stating that “knowledge shall be sought for throughout the
world,” a phrase which indicated indirectly the intention to draw on the
resources of Western civilization. The other passages in the manifesto
simply expounded the time-worn and vague principles of Chinese
statecraft, which had long ago been adopted by Japanese administrators.
The general correspondence of the Imperial intentions, as set forth in
the Oath, with the views of the last of the Shōguns, as expressed in the
statement announcing his resignation which was communicated to the
foreign representatives in the autumn of the previous year, is
noteworthy. It shows that the liberal policy enunciated was no monopoly
of the party of progress in the new ministry, but that a feeling in
favour of reform was very widely entertained. There was, of course, no
idea at that time of giving the masses a voice in the government of the
country, for the feudal system was still in existence, and the bulk of
the population had no interest in public affairs. It was, nevertheless,
clear that representative institutions of some kind, however imperfect
the popular conception of these might be, were the goal towards which
men’s thoughts were turning.