REMODELING OF THE STATE
Japan stood on the verge of a crisis, and it was saved from catastrophe
by two causes. First, by the ceaseless importation of high Chinese
civilisation, which steadily encouraged the political concentration;
secondly, by the necessity of centralisation so as to push on vigorously
the attack on the still powerful Ainu.
As I have mentioned several times before, the Ainu had been a losing
party in the racial struggle with the Japanese, yet their resistance had
been a very stubborn one, so that at the end of the sixth century they
could still hold their ground against the Japanese on the southern
boundary of the present provinces of Iwaki and Iwashiro, which roughly
corresponds to latitude 37 deg. N. The northern part of Japan, therefore,
was still in constant danger of incursions by the hairy race. For a
country in the infant stage of consolidation, as Japan was at that time,
it was by no means an easy task to ward off the frequent inroads of that
race, and at the same time to continue the process of the inner
organisation of the state. One would perhaps wonder at my conclusion,
starting from the consideration that the Ainu scare was not such a
fearful thing as to influence the natural growth of a state formed by
the stronger race. This misconception arises from the ignorance of the
fact that the famous dictum "delenda est Carthago" was only pronounced
after the first Punic war. Necessity by itself does not create the
desire to secure what is necessary. The desire to attain any aim first
comes into consciousness when one begins to feel strong enough to
venture to attain it. When the Ainu was very powerful, the Japanese had
to contend with them mainly in order to secure a foothold against them.
It was none the less necessary for the Japanese to continue to struggle
with the Ainu, when the former became strong enough to face the
antagonist evenhanded. Lastly, the time arrived now when it became an
urgent necessity for the Japanese to crush the Ainu, in order to achieve
undisturbed a full political organisation in the domain within the four
seas. In short, when the Japanese became so convinced of their might
that they could not tolerate any rival within the principal islands,
they found it even more indispensable to organise themselves as
compactly as possible under one strong supreme head than ever before.
What most facilitated the centralisation under the imperial rule was of
course the imported Chinese civilisation. To say sooth, several
centuries of the slow infiltration of that high civilisation had already
attained a great deal of influence, but it was rather a smuggled, and
not a really legalised importation. Moreover, China herself, the source
from which the civilisation had to be imported, had been dismembered for
a long time, so that until 581 A.D. the country could hardly be called a
unified state at all. How could we expect to find in a country where no
order ruled a model suitable to be employed as exemplar to effect a
durable political reform. It is not strange, therefore, that,
notwithstanding the long years of intercourse between the two countries,
only a very slight change had been thereby occasioned in our country as
regards our political organisation. Any change which was wrought in our
political sphere by Chinese influence was effected in a very indirect
way, having worked its way through multifarious social changes caused by
the contact with the high alien civilisation. No direct political clue
could be followed up from China to this country. To achieve the purpose
of borrowing from China the necessary materials for the reconstruction
of political Japan, we had to wait longer, that is to say, till the
inauguration of regular intercourse between this country and China also
politically unified and concentrated.
That memorable year came at last. In 607 A.D. Ono-no-Imoko was
despatched as official envoy to China, which at that time was under the
second emperor of the dynasty of Sui. Even before this date, however,
since the accession of the Empress Suiko, as the result of the busy
intercourse between us and the peninsular states, various arts and
useful sciences of Chinese origin had been introduced into this country,
among which astronomy, the oldest perhaps of all sciences everywhere in
the world, was the most noteworthy. Connected with this science, the art
of calendar-making was introduced for the first time into Japan. It
would be a gross mistake, if we thereby conclude that we had no means of
defining the dates of events prior to this introduction. Although we
could not by ourselves make an independent calendarial system, yet the
Japanese, at least the naturalised scribes, had already been acquainted
with two chronological methods. The one was to define a date by counting
from the year of the accession of a reigning emperor. The other method
was that which had prevailed long since in China, that is to say, to
define a date by counting according to the cyclical order of the twelve
zodiacal signs, interlaced with the cyclical order of ten attributes, so
that to complete one cycle sixty years were necessary. Some groups of
scribes, perhaps, pursued the former method, while others favoured the
latter. Contradictory statements and evident repetitions abundantly
found in the _Nihongi_ were thus occasioned by the existence of
historical materials, dated according to two different chronological
systems. For the compilers of the famous chronicle sometimes mistook one
and the same event found in different sources and given in two different
chronological systems, for two independent events resembling each other
only in certain superficial respects. Otherwise they misunderstood two
entirely distinct events having the same cyclical designation in date as
a single occurrence, narrated in two different ways, ignoring the fact
that there might have been two like events which happened at a
chronological distance of sixty years or some multiple of that cycle of
time. Confusion of this kind was unavoidable in ages where there was no
established method of defining a historical date. It was a great gain,
therefore, that astronomy and the art of calendar-making chanced to be
introduced in 602 A.D., the tenth year of the reign of the Empress.
Another not less important boon which we received from China through the
peninsular states was the gradation of official ranks. Anterior to this
period we had something like a hierarchical system with the emperor as
the political and social supreme, but the system, if it could be called
such, was nothing but a chain of vassalship fastened very loosely. It
was far from a well-ordered gradation, which is in reality the beginning
of equalisation and could only be effected by a very strong hand. The
dignity of the emperor could be excellently upheld by having under him
gradated subjects, but the gradation itself did not hinder those
subjects from thinking that they were equals before the emperor as his
subjects. This gradation came into practice in the year 604 A.D.
In the same year the famous "Seventeen Articles" was also promulgated.
This was a collection of moral maxims imparted to all subjects,
especially to administrative officials, as instructions. The principle
pervading the articles unmistakably betrays that much of it was borrowed
from Chinese moral and political precepts. The only exception is the
second article, which encouraged the worship of Buddha. It was natural
that such articles should be decreed by Prince Shotoku, who was under
the tutorship of a Korean priest and a naturalised peninsular savant.
Having so far adopted the elements of Chinese civilisation secondhand
through the peninsular states, we could savour the taste of refinement
enjoyed by the then highly advanced nation on the continent, embellish
thereby life in the court and in high circles, and promote not a little
our political centralisation. We were thus put in the state of one whose
thirst becomes much aggravated after taking a sip of water. At the helm
of the state was a very intelligent personage, Prince Shotoku, nephew
and son-in-law of the Empress and heir-presumptive to the throne. It was
natural for him and the progressive minister, Umako of the Soga, to
crave for more of the Chinese knowledge and enlightenment. The
peninsular states, which were never very far advanced in civilisation,
had transmitted to us all that they could teach. There was little left
in which those states were in advance of us. Then where should we turn
to obtain more learning and more culture except to China herself?
Diplomatic considerations were also an inducement for us to be drawn
towards China more closely than before. Just at this time we were
gradually losing our ground in the peninsula as the result of the
constant incursions of ascendant Shiragi into the Japanese protectorate,
and of the perfidious policy of Kutara, which feigned to be our ally
only for the sake of playing a dubious game against her neighbours, and
paid more respect to China than she did toward Japan. Kokuri in the
north, the strongest of the three peninsular states and the danger to
waning Kutara, was just, at a critical time, menaced by China under the
quite recently established dynasty of Sui. No wonder that Japan wished
to know more about China, the country with which we had been already
communicating directly as well as indirectly, though very sporadically.
An envoy to China was the natural consequence.
Yang-ti, the second Emperor of the Sui dynasty was very ambitious and
enterprising. His invasion of Kokuri, though it collapsed in utter
failure, was conducted on such a grand scale that it reminds us of the
Persian invasion of Greece under Xerxes, described by Herodotus. This
Yang-ti was much flattered at receiving an envoy from the island far
beyond the sea. Perhaps he rejoiced the more at finding an ally in the
rear of Kokuri, which he was then intending to invade. So he received
the Japanese envoy quite cordially, and on the latter's homeward
journey the Emperor ordered a courtier to escort the envoy to Japan.
This escort was on his return to China accompanied by the same envoy
whom he had escorted hither. Ono-no-Imoko, who was thus twice sent to
China as envoy, must have seen much of that country, and probably
fetched many articles to delight the eyes of the Japanese of the higher
classes, who were enraptured with everything foreign. What was the most
important event connected with the second despatch of the envoy,
however, was the sending abroad with him of students to study Buddhist
tenets and also to receive secular education in China. They stayed in
that country for a very long while, far longer than those who have been
sent abroad by the Japanese government in recent years have been
accustomed to stay in Europe and America, so that they lived in China as
if they were real Chinese themselves, and were deeply imbued with
Chinese thoughts and ideas. Two of the eight students who accompanied
Ono-no-Imoko to China, returned to this country after a sojourn of more
than thirty years, during which they witnessed a change of dynasty, and
the rise of the T'ang, the dynasty in which Chinese civilisation reached
its apogee. One of the two students who returned quite a Chinese to
Japan, happened to become a tutor of a prince who afterwards ascended
the throne as the Emperor Tenchi, the great reformer. By the way, it
should be noticed that all of the eight students despatched were men of
Chinese origin without exception, being naturalised scribes or their
descendants.
The peninsular states became rather jealous of our direct intercourse
with China, for they could not at least help fearing that thenceforth
they would not be able to play off China and Japan against each other as
they had done up to that time. They, therefore, tried to flatter us by
sending to this country envoys more frequently than before. It was at
one of these ceremonial court receptions of an envoy from Kokuri, that
Soga-no-Iruka, the son of Yemishi of the Soga and the grandson of Umako,
was killed by the Prince Naka-no-Oye, afterwards the Emperor Tenchi, and
by Nakatomi-no-Kamako, afterwards Kamatari. The father of Iruka soon
followed his son's fate, and with him the main branch of the quondam
all-powerful family of the Soga came to an end.
The fall of the house of the Soga may be ascribed to several causes. In
the first place, it became an absolute necessity for the growth of the
imperial power to get rid of the too arrogant Soga ministers, because to
bear with them any longer would have endangered the imperial prestige
itself. Secondly, as soon as the family of the Soga had ceased to fear
its rivals, it began to be divided within itself by internal strife.
Lastly, a quarrel about the imperial succession brought about the
interweaving of the above two causes. The Prince Naka-no-Oye, being the
eldest son of the Emperor Jomei, was naturally one of the candidates to
the throne. As his mother, however, was the Empress Kokyoku, and
therefore not of the Soga blood, the Prince was in fear lest he should
be put aside from the order of the succession. Besides, he was very much
enraged at the overbearing attitude of Yemishi and his son. The Nakatomi
family to which Kamatari belonged was one of the five old illustrious
names, and had been chiefly engaged in religious affairs. Kamatari
deeply deplored the fact that his family had long been overshadowed by
that of the Soga. Being qualified as a capable statesman, he foresaw the
political danger to which Japan was exposed at that time. The lateral
branches of the Soga family, actuated perhaps by jealousy against the
main branch, joined the Prince and Kamatari in annihilating the far too
overgrown power which threatened the imperial prerogative. Japan thus
safely passed this political crisis. The next task was the thorough
reconstruction of the social and political organisations, and the
establishment of a uniform system throughout the whole Empire.
A series of grand reforms was inaugurated in the year 645 A.D. in the
name of the reigning Emperor Kotoku, who was one of the uncles of the
Prince on his mother's side, and ascended the throne as the result of
wise self-denial on the part of the Prince. The first reform was the
initiation of the period name, a custom which, in China, had been in
vogue since the Han dynasty. The period name which was adopted at first
in Japan in the reign of the Emperor was Tai-Kwa. This Chinese usage,
after it was once introduced into our country, has been continued until
today, though with a few short interruptions.
The next step in the reform was the nomination of governors for the
eastern provinces. Before this time we had already provincial governors
installed in regions under the direct imperial sway, that is to say, in
provinces where imperial domains abounded and imperial residences were
located. These provincial governors depended wholly on the imperial
power, and could at any time be recalled at the Emperor's pleasure. That
such governors were now installed in the far eastern provinces bordering
on the Ainu territory shows that, as these provinces were newly
established ones, it was easier to enforce the reform there than in
older provinces, in which time-honoured customs had taken deep root and
chieftains ruled almost absolutely, so that even those radical reformers
hesitated for a moment to try their hand on them.
The change, in the same year, of the imperial residence to the province
of Settsu, near the site where the great commercial city of Osaka now
stands, was also one of the very remarkable events. Imperial residences
of the older times had been shifted here and there according to the
change of the reigning emperor. No one of them, however, as far back as
the time of Jimmu, the first Emperor, seems to have been located out of
the provinces of Yamato, except the dwelling-place of the Emperor
Nintoku. The removal of the imperial residence in 645 A.D. to the
province of Settsu, where facilities for foreign intercourse could be
secured, signifies that the imperial house was turning its gaze toward
the west, with eyes more widely open than before.
The second year of the reform began with far more radical innovations
than the first, that is to say, the abolishment of the group-system and
of the holding of lands by landlords. All the lands privately held by
local lords and all the people subjected to group-chieftains were
decreed to be henceforth public and free and subject only to the
Emperor. The designation of local lords and group-chieftains were
allowed to be kept by those who had formerly possessed them, but only as
mere titles. In order to allow this reform to run smoothly, the Prince
Naka-no-Oye himself set the example by renouncing, in behalf of the
reigning Emperor, his right over his clients numbering five hundred
twenty four and his private domain consisting of one hundred eighty-one
lots.
In lands thus made public, provinces were established, and governors
were appointed. Under those governors served the former local lords and
group-chieftains as secretaries of various official grades or as
district governors, all salaried, paid in natural products, of course,
since no currency existed at that time. In every province, a census was
ordered to be taken, and arable lands were distributed according to the
number of persons in a family, with variations with respect to their
ages and sexes. The distribution had to be renewed after the lapse of a
certain number of years, paralleled to the renewal of the census. The
tax in rice was to be levied commensurate with the area of the lot of
land distributed. Additional taxes in silk, flax, or cotton were to be
paid both per family and according to the area of the distributed lot.
Corvee was also imposed, and any one who did not serve in person was
obliged to pay, in rice and textiles for a substitute. Besides these
imposts, there were many circumstantial regulations concerning the
tribute in horses, equipment of soldiers, use of post-horses, interment
of the dead of various ranks, and so forth. These laws and regulations
taken together are called the Ohmi laws, from the name of the province
into which the Emperor Tenchi had removed his residence.
For three-score years after the promulgation of the reform of Taikwa,
there were many fluctuations, sometimes reactionary and sometimes
progressive, and many additions and amendments were made to the first
enactments published. In general, however, they remained unchanged, and
were at last systematized and codified in the second year of the era of
Taiho, that is to say, in 702 A.D. This is what the Japanese historians
designate by the name of the Tai-ho Code.
After an impartial comparison of this code with the elaborate
legislation of the T'ang dynasty, one cannot deny that the former was
mainly a minute imitation of the latter. Preambles and epilogues issued
at the time of the first proclamation were taken from passages of the
Chinese classics, and there are many phrases in the text itself which
plainly betray their Chinese origin. Many regulations were inserted, not
on account of their necessity in this country, but only because they
were found in the legislation of the T'ang dynasty.
There are of course not a few modifications, which can be discerned when
carefully scrutinised, and these modifications are generally to be found
in those Chinese laws which were impossible of introduction into our
country without change. Some of them, having been planned originally in
the largest Empire of the world and in an age as highly civilised as
that of the T'ang, were too grand in scale, so that they had to be
minimised in order to suit the condition of the island realm. Others had
too much of the racial traits of the Chinese to be put at once in
operation in a country such as Japan, which on its part had also sundry
peculiarities not to be easily displaced by legislation originated in an
alien soil. This was especially the case with respect to religious
matters. Though it is a question whether Shintoism may be called a
religion in the modern scientific sense, it cannot be disputed that it
has a strong religious element in it. On that account, it had proved a
great obstacle to the propagation of Buddhism, which was the religion
embraced at first not by the common people but by men belonging to the
upper classes, so that the latter, while earnestly encouraging the
inculcation of Buddhism, were obliged to show themselves not altogether
indifferent to the old deities. In behalf of the Shinto cult, special
dignitaries were appointed, the chief of whom played the same part as
the Pontifex Maximus of ancient Rome. Such an institution is purely
Japanese and was not to be found in the Chinese model. Apart from these
exceptions, however, the reform of the Tai-kwa era was essentially a
Japanese imitation of a Chinese original.
What was the result, then, of the reform undertaken partly from national
necessity, but partly also from love of imitation? Let me begin with the
bright side first.
Whatever be the intrinsic merit of the reform itself, there is no doubt
that the reform came from necessity. It was absolutely necessary that
Japan, in order to make solid progress, should be centralised
politically. The model which the reformers selected was the legislation
of a strongly centralised monarchy. In this respect at least it
admirably fitted the necessity of Japan at that time. In the year 659,
fifteen years after the promulgation of the reform, an organised
expedition consisting of a large number of squadrons, was despatched
along the coast of the Sea of Japan as far north as the island now
called by the name of Hokkaido. In the next year another expedition was
sent across the sea to the continental coast, perhaps to the region at
the mouth of the Amur. Though the frontier line on the main island was
not pushed forward against the Ainu so rapidly as the progress along the
western coast, owing to the obstinate resistance of the tribe on the
eastern coast, yet the victory was wholly on the side of the Japanese.
The removal of the imperial residence by the Emperor Tenchi in the year
667 to the side of lake Biwa, in the province of Ohmi, marks an epoch in
the progress of the exploration north-easternward. For the new site, a
little distant from the modern town of Ohtsu, is more conveniently
situated than the former residences, not only in guarding and pushing
the north-eastern frontier, but in keeping connection with the
navigation on the Sea of Japan. The inland lake of Biwa, though not
large in area, is one which must be counted as something in a country as
small as Japan. Until quite recent times, communication between Kyoto,
the former capital, and Hokkaido and the northern provinces of Hon-to
was maintained, not along the eastern or Pacific shore, but via the Lake
and the Sea of Japan. Even the eastern coast of the province of Mutsu
seems to have had no direct communication by sea with the centre of the
Empire. In order to reach there from the capital, men in old times were
obliged to take generally a long roundabout way along the western coast,
pass the Strait of Tsugaru, and then turn southward along the Pacific
coast. This important highway of the sea route of old Japan was
connected with Kyoto by the navigation across lake Biwa. The change of
the imperial residence to the neighborhood of Ohtsu, which is the key of
the lake navigation routes, had no doubt a great historic significance.
Another remarkable event which contributed much to the remodelling of
the state was the total overthrow of the Japanese influence in the
Korean peninsula. About the middle of the sixth century Mimana was taken
by Shiragi, and with it our prestige in the peninsula suffered a severe
loss. Still for some time there remained to Japan a shadow of influence
in the existence of the state of Kutara, though the latter was very
unreliable as an ally. That state then began to be hard pressed by
Shiragi and asked for our help. More than once we sent reinforcements,
sometimes numbering more than twenty thousand soldiers. Arms and
provisions were also freely given. Owing to the incompetence of the
Japanese generals despatched, however, and the perfidious policy of
Kutara, our assistance proved ineffective. As a counter to our
assistance to Kutara, Shiragi invoked the aid of the T'ang dynasty,
which was eager to establish its rule over the peninsula. In the year
650 Kutara was at last destroyed by the co-operation of the army of
Shiragi and the navy of the T'ang. Next it was the turn of Kokuri to be
invaded by the T'ang army. A Japanese army consisting of more than ten
thousand men was sent in order to restore Kutara and to succour Kokuri.
In 663 a great naval battle was fought between the Chinese squadrons and
ours, ending in the defeat of the latter, for the former, consisting of
170 ships, far outnumbered the Japanese. With this defeat our hope of
the restoration of Kutara was finally lost. The remnants of the royal
family of Kutara and of the people of that state numbering more than
three thousand immigrated into Japan. Kokuri, too, surrendered soon
afterwards to the T'ang in 668, and long before this Shiragi had become
a tributary state of China. The influence of the T'ang dynasty prevailed
over the whole peninsula.
Since this time we were reduced to defending our interest, not on the
Korean peninsula, but by fortifying the islands of Tsushima and Iki and
the northern coast of Kyushu. There was no breach of the peace, however,
between Japan and China after the naval battle of the year 663, for
after the downfall of Kutara we had no imperative necessity to despatch
our army abroad, and therefore no occasion to come into collision with
the Chinese army in the peninsula. China, on her part, did not wish to
make us her enemy. The rough sea dividing the two countries made it a
very hazardous task to try to invade us, even for the emperors of the
Great T'ang. A Chinese general who had the duty of governing the former
dominion of Kutara sent embassies several times to Japan. At one time an
embassy was accompanied by two thousand soldiers as retinue, but the
purpose was plainly demonstrative. We also continued to send embassies
to China. Peace was thus restored on our western frontier, though under
conditions somewhat detrimental to our national honour.
The evacuation of the peninsula was a great respite to our national
energy, howsoever it be regretted. First of all, Japan was not yet a
match for China of the T'ang. Moreover, to keep up our prestige on the
peninsula was too costly a matter for us, even if we had been able to
sustain it, and by this evacuation we were saved from squandering the
national resources which were not yet at their full. After all, for
Japan at that time the urgent necessity lay not in geographical
expansion abroad, and affairs on the peninsula were of far less
importance when compared with driving the Ainu out of Hon-to. Against an
enemy coming from the west, we could defend ourselves without much
difficulty, the rough sea being a strong bulwark. It is quite another
kind of matter to divide the Hon-to with the Ainu for long. Japan wanted
a geographical expansion not without, but within.
The development of political consolidation received also much benefit
from our renunciation on the west. Our national progress, and therefore
our political concentration, got a great stimulus in the intercourse
with the peninsula. If we had, however, meddled with peninsular affairs
too long, we would not have been able to turn our attention exclusively
to inner affairs. The reform laws had just been published, and they
required time to be thoroughly assimilated. Unless amended and
supplemented according to practical needs, those laws would be mere
black on white, or sources of social confusion. Absolutely and without
question we were in need of peace, and that peace was obtained by the
evacuation. By this peace the reform legislation could work at its best
possible. If it had not enhanced the merit of the new legislation, at
least it developed the benefit of the reform to the full, and prevented
much evil which might have arisen if it had been otherwise.
On the other hand, the dark side of the reform legislation must not be
overlooked. In reality the Chinese civilisation of the T'ang dynasty was
one too highly advanced to be successfully copied by Japan, a country
which was just in its teens, so to speak, so far as development was
concerned. As a rule, the codification of laws in any country denotes a
stage in the progress of the civilisation of that country, where it
became necessary to turn back and to systematise what had already been
attained. In other words, codification is everywhere a retrospective
action, and before it be taken up, the civilisation of that particular
country should have reached a stage considered the highest possible by
the people of that period. Otherwise it can do only harm. When the
codification is far ahead of the civilisation the country possesses,
then that nation will be obliged to take very hurried steps in order to
overtake the stage where the codification stands. It is during these
headlong marches that the dislocation of the social and political
structure of a state generally takes place. In short, it may be called a
national precocity, highly dangerous to a healthy development. The
legislation of the T'ang dynasty, in truth, was even for China of that
age too much enlightened, idealistic, and circumstantial to be worked
with real profit to the state. It was, however, her own creation, while
ours was an imitation. It would have been a miracle if Japan could have
reaped the full harvest expected by a legislation nearly as advanced and
as elaborate as that of the T'ang.
The above remark is especially true as regards the military system. The
dynasty of the T'ang was in its beginning a strong military power. Its
military system was not bad, so long as it was worked by very strong
hands. On the whole, however, the political regime of the dynasty was
not such a one as to favour the keeping up of a martial spirit. After
the subjugation of the uncivilised tribes surrounding the empire, the
martial spirit of the Chinese nation soon relaxed, and the country fell
a prey to the invading barbarians whom the Chinese were accustomed to
despise. We find in it the exact counterpart of the Roman Empire
destroyed by the Germans. For the T'ang dynasty, it had been better to
conserve the military spirit a little longer in order to protect the
civilisation which it had brought to its zenith. With stronger reasons,
the need of a martial spirit ought to have been emphasised for Japan at
that time. The Japanese military ordinance of the reform was modelled
after the Chinese system, but of course on a smaller scale. The chief
fault, however, was its over-circumstantiality, being even more
circumstantial for Japan of that time than the original system was for
China herself. Before the reform we had several bands of professional
soldiers, which could be easily mobilised. That old system had gone. We
had still to fight constantly against the Ainu. Nay, the warfare on that
quarter was taken up with renewed activity, and we had to educate, to
train the people who were not at all accustomed to military discipline.
Having adopted a system resembling conscription, we were always in need
of an accurate census. To have an accurate census taken is a very
difficult matter even for a highly civilised nation. It must have been
especially so for Japan. In the reformed legislation the census was the
basis both for the military service and the land-distribution, taxation
connected with it. The land distribution system, though there might have
been some like element in the original custom of Japan, was yet on the
whole another Chinese institution imitated, very circumstantially again.
Moreover, though this reform seems to have been enforced throughout all
the provinces at once, except the southernmost two, Ohsumi and Satsuma,
in most of the provinces the part of the arable land brought under the
new system must have been very limited. Perhaps only such land in the
neighborhood of each provincial capital might have been distributed
regularly. Added to that, the growth of the population and the increase
of arable land necessitated a change in the distribution, and in the
said legislation a redistribution every six years was provided for that
change. In order to carry out this redistribution regularly and
adequately a very strong government and wise management were needed.
Otherwise either the system would be frustrated, or there would be no
improvement of land.
Considered from the side of the people, the new legislation was not
welcomed in all ways. New taxes are generally wont to be felt heavier
than the accustomed ones. Besides these fresh imposts, military service
was demanded, which was quite a novel thing to most of them. In fact,
their burden must have been pretty heavy, for they could not enjoy a
durable peace at all, on account of the interminable warfare against
the Ainu. Many began to lead a roaming life, others avoided legal
registration in order to escape from taxation and military service.
Before long the fundamental principle of the grand reform collapsed, and
a very expensive governmental system remained, which, too, gradually
became difficult to be kept up. A change of regime seemed unavoidable.