POLITICAL CONDITIONS IN JAPAN
AT this period the movement had already commenced that finally
culminated in what may fitly be called the Revolution of 1868, by which
the feudal system was destroyed and the old monarchical government
revived. The tendency of the times was as yet scarcely perceived by
foreigners, with but one or two exceptions. They generally supposed that
political strife had broken out between the sovereign and a few unruly
vassals dissatisfied with the treaties that permitted the sacred soil of
Japan to be defiled by the footsteps of "barbarians," and secured all
the profits of trade to the head of the State, the vassals being enabled
to defy their suzerain owing to his own feebleness and the incapacity of
his Ministers. It was still believed that the potentate in whose name
the Treaties had been concluded was the Temporal Sovereign, and that the
Mikado was little more than the head of the priesthood, or Spiritual
Emperor. This theory of the Japanese Constitution was almost as old as
the earliest knowledge of the country possessed by Europeans. Marco
Polo, indeed, says nothing of its system of government in the two short
chapters which he devotes to Zipangu, but the Jesuit missionaries who
laboured in Japan during the 16th and 17th centuries uniformly held the
Mikado to be a spiritual dignitary, and spoke of the Shôgun as the real
ruler of the country, the temporal king, and even Emperor. Kaempfer, the
best known and most often quoted of the authorities on Japan, writing at
the beginning of the 18th century, calls the two potentates
Ecclesiastical and Secular Emperors, and his example had, up to the time
I am writing of, been followed by all his successors without exception.
The truth is that the polity of the Japanese State had assumed already
in the 12th century the form which it was still displaying at the
beginning of the latter half of the 19th, and institutions which could
boast of such a highly respectable antiquity might well be supposed to
have taken a deep enough hold to be part and parcel of the national
life.
The history of Japan has still to be written. Native chronicles of the
Mikados and annals of leading families exist in abundance, but the
Japanese mind is only just now beginning to emancipate itself from the
thraldom of Chinese literary forms, while no European has yet attempted
a task which requires a training different from that of most men who
pursue an Eastern career. Until within the last two decades, the
literature of Japan was almost entirely unknown to Europeans, and the
existing keys to the language were ridiculously inadequate. The only
historical works accessible to foreigners were the scanty _Annales des
Dairi_, translated by Titsingh with the aid of native Dutch interpreters
and edited by Klaproth with a degree of bold confidence that nothing but
the position of a one-eyed man amongst the blind can give; and a set of
chronological tables, translated by Hoffman for Siebold's _Nippon_. It
is no wonder, therefore, if at the outset of Treaty relations, the
foreign representatives were at a loss to appreciate the exact nature of
the political questions that confronted them, and were unable to
diagnose the condition of the patient whose previous history was unknown
to them.
To trace in detail the development of the Japanese monarchy, from its
beginnings as a pure theocracy of foreign invaders, attracting to itself
the allegiance of a number of small tribal chieftains, the fusion of
these tribes with their conquerors into one seemingly homogeneous race,
the remodelling of the administration which followed upon the
introduction of Chinese laws and philosophy, the supplanting of the
native hero and native worship by the creed of Gautama, the rise of a
military caste brought about by the constant warfare with the barbarous
tribes in the east and north of the country, the rivalry of the Taira
and Minamoto clans, both sprung from base-born younger sons of the
Mikados, and the final suppression of the civil administration in the
provinces by the distribution of the country amongst the followers of
the Minamoto and their allies, would require a profound study of
documents which no one has yet undertaken. With the appointment of
Yoritomo to be Commander-in-Chief the feudal system was fully
established. The ancient official hierarchy still existed at Kiôto, but
in name only, exercising no influence whatever over the conduct of
affairs, and in the 14th century its functions were already so far
forgotten as to become the subject of antiquarian research. The civil
and penal codes borrowed from the great Empire of Eastern Asia fell into
disuse, and in part even the very traces of them perished. Martial law
reigned throughout the land, half the people were converted into a huge
garrison, which the other half toiled to feed and clothe. Reading and
writing were the exclusive accomplishments of the Buddhist priesthood
and of the impoverished nobles who formed the court of a Mikado shorn of
all the usual attributes of a sovereign, and a deep sleep fell upon the
literary genius of the nation. The absence of danger from foreign
invasion rendered the necessity of a strong central administration
unfelt, and Japan under the Shôguns assumed the aspect of Germany in the
middle ages, the soil being divided between a multitude of petty
potentates, independent in all but name, while their nominal head was
little better than a puppet.
This state of things lasted till the second quarter of the 14th century,
when an attempt was made under the Mikado Go-Daigo to re-establish the
pristine rule of the legitimate sovereigns. A civil war ensued that
lasted for over fifty years, until the Ashikaga family finally
established themselves in the office of hereditary Shôguns. Before long
they split up into two branches which quarrelled among themselves and
gave opportunity for local chiefs to re-establish their independence. In
the middle of the 16th century a soldier of fortune, Ota Nobunaga by
name, profited by the central position of the provinces he had acquired
with his sword to arrogate to himself the right of arbitrating between
the warlike leaders who had risen in every direction. After his
assassination a still greater warrior, known most commonly by the title
of Taicosama, carried on the work of pacification: every princelet who
opposed his authority was in turn subdued, and he might have become the
founder of a new line of "_maires du palais_." He died, however, before
time had sufficiently consolidated his position, leaving an
inexperienced youth heir to his power, under the tutelage of guardians
who speedily quarrelled. The most distinguished of these was Iyéyasu,
who, besides the vast domains which he had acquired in the neighbourhood
of Yedo, the modern Tôkiô, possessed all the qualities which fit a man
to lead armies and rule kingdoms. He had been Taicosama's sole remaining
competitor for power, and at the death of the latter naturally assumed
the most prominent position in the country. A couple of years sufficed
for the transference to him of all, and more than all, the authority
wielded by his two predecessors. No combination against him had any
chance of success. The decisive battle of Sekigahara in 1600 brought the
whole nation to his feet, and he made full use of this opportunity to
create checks upon the _Daimiôs_ of whose fidelity he was not
sufficiently assured, by grants of territories to his own friends and
followers, a few of the older families alone being allowed to retain
their ancient fiefs. Among these were Shimadzu in the south of Kiû-shiû,
Môri in the extreme west, and Daté, Nambu and Tsugaru in the northern
provinces of the main island. His own sons received portions in Owari,
Ki-shiû, Mito and elsewhere. In 1616, at Iyéyasu's death 19-20ths of the
whole country was held by his adherents. Thus there arose five or six
classes of barons, as they may best be called, to render their position
intelligible to the English reader. Firstly, there were the Three
Families descended from his most favoured sons, from whom according to
the constitution established by him in case of a default of direct
heirs, the successor to the Shôgunate was to be chosen (as a matter of
fact resort was had only to Ki-shiû when a break in the line occurred).
Next came the Related Families (_Kamon_) sprung from his younger sons,
and in the third place were ranked the Lords of Provinces (_Koku-shi_).
The members of these three classes enjoyed the revenue of fiefs
comprising one or more provinces, or lands of equivalent extent. Below
them in importance were the Hereditary Servants (_fu-dai_) and
Banner-men (_hatamoto_) composed as has been said before of the
immediate retainers of the Tokugawa family, and the Stranger Lords
(_tozama_), relics of the former barons, who had submitted to his
supremacy and followed his banner in his last wars. The qualification of
a _daimiô_ was the possession of lands assessed at a production of
10,000 _koku_ (=about 5 bushels) of rice and upwards. The _hatamotos_
were retainers of the Tokugawa family whose assessment was below 10,000
_koku_ and above 1000. Below them came the ordinary vassals
(_go-ke-nin_).
The fiefs of all classes of the _daimiôs_ were in their turn at first
partitioned out among their retainers, and called _Ke-rai_ in their
relation to their immediate lords, and _bai-shin_ (arrière vassals) as
being vassals of those who acknowledged the suzerainty of the Shôgun.
_Samurai_ and _ashigaru_ denoted the two ranks of sword-bearing
gentlemen and common soldiers among the retainers of the _daimiôs_. In
the end every retainer, except the _samurai_ of Satsuma, received an
annual allowance of so much rice, in return for which he was bound to
perform military service and appear in the field or discharge the
ordinary military duties required in time of peace, accompanied by
followers proportioned in number to his income. In Satsuma the feudal
sub-division of the land was carried out to the fullest extent, so that
the vassal of lowest rank held the sword in one hand and the hoe in the
other. No taxes were paid by any feudal proprietor. The _koku-shi_ and
other barons of equal rank ruled their provinces absolutely, levying
land-tax on the farmers and imposts on internal trade as they chose.
They had further the power of life and death, subject only to the
nominal condition of reporting once a year the capital sentences
inflicted by their officers. The other nobles were less independent.
Every _daimiô_ had to maintain an establishment at the capital, where
his wife and children resided permanently, while the lord passed
alternate years in Yedo and in his territories.
On his journeys to and fro he was accompanied by a little army of
retainers, for whose accommodation inns were built at every town on the
main roads throughout the country, and the expense involved was a heavy
tax on his resources. A strict system of etiquette regulated the
audiences with which the _daimiôs_ were favoured on their arrival and
departure, and prescribed the presents they were to offer as a symbol of
their inferiority. There was little social intercourse among them, and
they lived for the most part a life of extreme seclusion surrounded by
vast numbers of women and servants. A fixed number of hereditary
councillors (_karô_ and _yônin_) checked all initiative in the
administration of their fiefs. They were brought up in complete
ignorance of the outer world, and the strings of government were pulled
by the unseen hands of obscure functionaries who obtained their
appointments by force of their personal qualities. After a few
generations had passed the descendants of the active warriors and
statesmen of Iyéyasu's time were reduced to the state of imbecile
puppets, while the hereditary principle produced a similar effect on
their councillors. Thus arose in each daimiate a condition of things
which may be compared to that of a Highland clan, where the ultimate
power was based upon the feelings and opinions of a poor but
aristocratic oligarchy. This led to the surprising results of the
revolution of 1868, when the power nominally exercised by the chief
_daimiôs_ came to be wielded by the more energetic and intelligent of
their retainers, most of whom were _samurai_ of no rank or position.
These men it was who really ruled the clan, determined the policy of its
head and dictated to him the language he should use on public occasions.
The _daimiô_, it cannot be too often repeated, was a nobody; he
possessed not even as much power as a constitutional sovereign of the
modern type, and his intellect, owing to his education, was nearly
always far below par. This strange political system was enabled to hold
together solely by the isolation of the country from the outer world. As
soon as the fresh air of European thought impinged upon this framework
it crumbled to ashes like an Egyptian mummy brought out of its
sarcophagus.
The decline of the Mikado's power dates from the middle of the 9th
century, when for the first time a boy of nine years ascended the throne
of his ancestors. During his minority the country was governed by his
father-in-law, the chief of the ancient Fujiwara family, who contrived
for a long period to secure to themselves the power of setting up and
removing their own nominees just as suited their convenience. A similar
fate befel the institution of the Shôgunate. After the murder of
Yoritomo's last surviving son, the country was nominally ruled by a
succession of young princes, none of whom had emerged from the stage of
boyhood when appointed, and who were deposed in turn after a few years
of complete nullity, while the real heads of the government were the
descendants of Hôjô Tokimasa, Yoritomo's father-in-law. The vices of the
hereditary principle in their case had again full sway, and the later
Hôjô were mere puppets in the hands of their principal advisers. A
revolution in favour of the Mikado overthrew this system for a short
interval, until the Shôgunate was restored for a time to reality by the
founder of the Ashikaga family. But after the lapse of a few years its
power was divided between Kiôto and Kamakura, and the two heads of the
family fell under the dominating influence of their agents the
_Kwan-rei_ Uyésugi and Hosokawa.
Towards the end of the Ashikaga period the Shôgun had become as much an
empty name as the Mikado himself, and the country was split up among the
local chieftains. The bad condition of the internal communications
between the provinces and the capital probably contributed to this state
of things. Iyéyasu was the first to render consolidation possible by the
construction of good military roads. The governmental system erected by
him seemed calculated to ensure the lasting tranquillity of the country.
But the hereditary principle again reasserted its influence. The third
Shôgun, Iyémitsu, was a real man. Born four years after the battle of
Sekigahara and already twelve years of age when his grandfather died in
the year succeeding his final appearance in the battlefield, he had the
education of a soldier, and to his energy was owing the final
establishment of the Tokugawa supremacy on a solid basis. Iyéyasu and
his successor had always been in the habit of meeting the _daimiôs_ on
their visits to Yedo outside the city. Iyémitsu received them in his
palace. He gave those who would not submit to their changed position the
option of returning home, and offered them three years for preparation
to try the ordeal of war. Not a single one ventured to resist. But he
was succeeded by his son Iyétsuna, a boy of ten. During Iyétsuna's
minority the government was carried on in his name by his Council of
State, composed of Hereditary Servants (_fu-dai daimiôs_), and the
personal authority of the head of the Tokugawa family thus received its
first serious blow. But worse than that, the office of chief councillor
was from the first confined to four baronial families, Ii, Honda,
Sakakibara and Sakai, and the rôjiû or ordinary councillors were
likewise _daimiôs_.
On them the hereditary principle had, in the interval between the close
of the civil wars and the accession of the fourth Shôgun, produced its
usual result. Nominally the heads of the administration they were
without any will of their own, and were guided by their own hereditary
councillors, whose strings were pulled by someone else. The real power
then fell into the hands of ministers or _bu-giô_, chosen from the
_hatamoto_ or lesser vassals, and many of these were men of influence
and real weight. Still with them the habit of delegating authority into
the hands of anyone of sufficient industry and energy to prefer work to
idleness, was invincible, and in the end the dominions of the Tokugawa
family came to be ruled by the _Oku go-yû-hitsu_ or private secretaries.
The machine in fact had been so skilfully constructed that a child could
keep it turning. Political stagnation was mistaken for stability.
Apart from one or two unsuccessful conspiracies against the government,
Japan experienced during 238 years the profoundest tranquillity. She
resembled the sleeping beauty in the wood, and the guardians of the
public safety had a task not more onerous than that of waving a fan to
keep the flies from disturbing the princess's slumbers. When her dreams
were interrupted by the eager and vigorous West the ancient, decrepit
and wrinkled watchers were found unfit for their posts, and had to give
way to men more fit to cope with the altered circumstances which
surrounded them.
Socially the nation was divided into two sections by a wide gulf which
it was impossible to pass. On the one hand the sword-bearing families or
gentry, whose frequent poverty was compensated for by their privileges
of rank, on the other the agricultural, labouring and commercial
classes; intermarriage was forbidden between the orders. The former were
ruled by the code of honour, offences against which were permitted to be
expiated by self-destruction, the famous _harakiri_ or disembowelment,
while the latter were subject to a severe unwritten law enforced by
cruel and frequent capital punishment. They were the obedient humble
servants of the two-sworded class.
Japan had already made the experiment of free intercourse with European
states in the middle of the 16th century, when the merchants and
missionaries of Portugal were welcomed in the chief ports of Kiû-shiû,
and Christianity bade fair to replace the ancient native religions. They
were succeeded by the Spaniards, Dutch and English, the two latter
nations confining themselves however to commerce. The gigantic
missionary undertakings of the two great English-speaking communities of
the far West were the creation of a much later time. It will be
recollected that in 1580 Spain for a time absorbed Portugal. The Roman
Catholics began before long to excite the enmity of the Buddhist and
Shintô priesthood, whose temples they had caused to be pulled down and
whose revenues they seemed on the point of usurping. Nobunaga had
favoured them, but in the civil wars that raged at that period the
principal patrons of the Jesuits were overthrown, and the new ruler
Taicosama soon proclaimed his hostility to the strangers. Their worst
offence was the refusal of a Christian girl to become his concubine.
Iyéyasu, a devout Buddhist, pursued the same religious policy as his
predecessor in possession of the ruling power. His dislike to
Christianity was stimulated by the fact that some of Hidéyori's
adherents were Christians, and the young prince Hidéyori was himself
known to be on friendly terms with the missionaries. The flame was
fanned by the Dutch and English, now become the hereditary political
foes of Spain, and the persecution was renewed with greater vigour than
ever. Missionaries were sought out with eager keenness, and in the
company of their disciples subjected to cruel tortures and the most
horrible deaths. The fury of persecution did not relax with Iyéyasu's
disappearance from the scene, and the final act of the drama was played
out in the time of his grandson.
An insurrection provoked by the oppression of the local _daimiôs_ broke
out in the island of Amakusa, where thousands of Christians joined the
rebel flag. After a furious struggle the revolt was put an end to on the
24th February, 1638, by the assault and capture of the castle of
Shimabara, when 37,000 people, two-thirds of whom were women and
children, were put to the sword. It is hardly possible to read the
native accounts of this business without a feeling of choking
indignation at the ruthless sacrifice of so many unfortunate creatures
who were incapable of defence, and whose only crime was their wish to
serve the religion which they had chosen for their rule of life. The
Portuguese were forbidden ever to set foot again in Japan. The English
had previously retired from a commercial contest in which they found
their rivals too fortunate and too skilful, and the edict went forth
that the Dutch, who now alone remained, should thenceforth be confined
to the small artificial island of Déshima, off the town of Nagasaki,
where for the next 2-1/4 centuries they and the Chinese were permitted
to carry on a restricted and constantly diminishing trade. Attempts were
made once or twice by the English, and early in the present century by
the Russians, to induce the government of Japan to relax their rule, but
in vain. The only profit the world has derived from these abortive
essays is the entrancing narrative of Golownin, who was taken prisoner
in Yezo in connection with a descent made by Russian naval officers in
revenge for the rejection of the overtures made by the Russian envoy
Resanoff, perhaps the most lifelike picture of Japanese official manners
that is anywhere to be met with. No further approaches were made by any
Western Government until the United States took the matter in hand in
1852.