Emperor of Japan

by Donald Keene

  A few days after the imperial rescript was issued, Chief of the General Staff Yamagata Aritomo prepared a memorandum on the state of the armed forces that he presented to Army Minister Ōyama Iwao. He complained of the insufficient number of soldiers—barely 40,000 men. Even nine years after conscription was instituted, established quotas of troops were not being filled. Garrisons in different parts of the country were short of infantry, artillery, and engineering personnel. Externally, too, the situation was by no means settled: Japan’s relations with China and Korea were uncertain, and the status of the Ryūkyūs was a potential source of conflict. If the Japanese were to wait until a crisis arose before bringing their forces up to strength, it would then be too late. Yamagata was aware of the financial problems, but he was determined that the quotas prescribed in the conscription law be filled that year.3 Yamagata’s mention of China and Korea was noteworthy, as the latter part of 1882 was largely occupied with Japan’s relations to these two countries.

  The other important matter to occupy the court this year was the perpetual question of treaty revision. Again and again, the Japanese attempted to secure revision, offering various concessions to the foreign powers with which they had concluded unequal treaties. Although Japan had managed to secure the approval of most countries to revision, British opposition was unwavering.

  Meiji himself at first was not directly involved in these problems. His name occurs most often in official records in connection with the gifts he made to people and institutions. On January 19, for example, he made a gift from his private purse of 1,000 yen to Kongōbu-ji on Mount Kōya to rebuild the great pagoda, destroyed by fire in 1843.4 It is unlikely that Meiji was moved by Buddhist piety, though he no doubt had received instruction in Buddhism as a child.5 Perhaps he felt, as did contemporary European monarchs, that it was incumbent on him as the father of his people to give money to religious and scholarly associations as well as charities.6 Or the donation to rebuild a pagoda may have reflected his interest in reviving the past.

  The emperor showed at this time an increasing concern for the preservation of Japanese traditions. He was pleased to learn that after a period of indiscriminate imitation of Western educational systems, Confucian virtues were being reinstituted as the foundation of education. He commented, “On examining the articles of the educational system now established by the Ministry of Education, I realized today that the recommendations I had made to the previous minister of education, Terashima Munenori, had at last been put into practice.”7 In a rescript he expressed the hope that in years to come, even if, for example, people urged the adoption of some feature of German education or of Russian education, the ministry would not be swayed by such demands but hold fast to the present system; ten years would surely demonstrate that it was a success.

  Not long afterward, in response to questions from the emperor, Prime Minister Sanjō Sanetomi presented a written opinion concerning constitutional government. The time of the opening of a parliament had been set, and a draft constitution had been presented to the Genrō-in, but its provisions were copied from European constitutions and, not being suited to Japanese national feelings, could not be adopted without revision. Many opinions were expressed concerning how to put the constitution into effect and what its governing principles should be. One thing was definite: the constitution would be bestowed by the emperor and would not be the result of a struggle by the people. Debates continued, however, as to the locus of sovereignty. Some claimed that it resided with the people, others that it was shared by the sovereign and the people, still others that it resided entirely with the emperor; and they all quoted European theories and systems to prove their points.

  Distressed by these divisions, the emperor asked Sanjō to submit a detailed report on the principles of the imperial constitution, the relationship between the parliament and imperial authority, and the state of preparations for opening the parliament. Sanjō’s report, submitted on February 24, insisted on the sovereign’s inviolability; his ministers bore full responsibility for acts committed on his behalf. Sanjō reiterated that the government’s policy was gradualism. He was aware that many people favored rapid changes. He believed that this was because the Japanese for hundreds of years had lived securely in their own little world, despising everything outside. When suddenly they were brought into contact with foreign countries, they rushed to the opposite extreme, vying with one another in an attempt to be as advanced as possible. Recently, European extremist political thought had penetrated the cities and countryside, and the young people were inebriated with strange new ideas. The most urgent need was to guide these people and imbue them with objectivity and steadfastness.

  Sanjō also emphasized the need to preserve the financial independence of the imperial household.8 Indeed, he defined the main function of the nobility in the future upper house of the parliament to be its preservation. Next below the nobility came the samurai, but they had been impoverished by the changes in the government. Sanjō pleaded for measures to bring them relief. In a separate document, he listed steps that had been taken to prepare for the opening of the parliament.9

  The emphasis on preserving Japanese traditions did not mean that the court had turned its back on guidance from abroad. In February, Terashima Munenori (1832–1893), the president of the Genrō-in, proposed that Itō Hirobumi be sent to Europe to study the various European constitutions in order to determine which features were suitable for adoption in the Japanese constitution; he himself would go to America as a minister plenipotentiary for the same purpose. The proposal was approved, and Itō resigned as president of the House of Councillors in order to make the journey. In March, before his departure, Itō received from the emperor a long list of matters to be investigated.

  The question of treaty revision continued to bother the Japanese, and a preliminary conference on treaty revision met to consider the subject. Inoue Kaoru expressed the opinion that because the foreign countries had nothing to gain by revising the treaties and surrendering extraterritoriality, Japan would have to make major concessions. Two proposals for concessions were offered. The first, made by Councillor Yamada Akiyoshi, stated that if foreigners were willing to follow Japanese law in all matters, they would be permitted to live, work, and engage in trade anywhere in the country, exactly like Japanese.10 The second, offered by Itō Hirobumi, promised less: foreigners would be permitted to engage in trade in the interior provided that they were subject to trial in Japanese courts in cases of infractions of administrative rules or police regulations; the Japanese government would recover the right to decide all civil suits.

  On March 5 Sanjō Sanetomi took the two proposals to the emperor and asked him to decide which he preferred. The emperor answered that first of all, he had hoped for unanimity of opinions on this major question, instead of bickering over minor differences. He also urged secrecy: if word of differences concerning treaty revision should leak out, there might be a repetition of the scandal that arose in the previous year when the sale of government properties in Hokkaidō was disclosed. Finally, he spoke out against Yamada’s proposal, saying that the Japanese were still not the equal of the foreigners in knowledge and that they were very far from their equal in financial power. If foreigners were given the right to live and work in the interior and were permitted to engage in trade there, it might well lead to a lamentable result. He urged legislators to give earnest thought to possible future consequences.11

  The emperor’s advice failed to end the bickering. Inoue Kaoru, caught between the irresolution of the preliminary conference and the demands of the British minister for prompt action, finally tried to resign. The three daijin used every effort to calm him. In the end, K. F. H. Rösler, a German employee of the cabinet, rewrote the two proposals. The first proposal now included a clause permitting foreigners to own property but subjected them to Japanese law in all instances, both civil and criminal. The second proposal restricted to civil cases the trial of foreigners by Japanese courts but offered fewe
r privileges in return. The two proposals were once again submitted to the emperor. His decision was to open negotiations with foreigners on the basis of the first proposal. If that did not work, the second proposal should be tried. If neither proposal was acceptable, further discussions would have to be initiated and the results submitted to him.12

  In April, at the seventh meeting of the preliminary conference, Inoue Kaoru read a memorandum stating that in order to realize its objectives in relations with foreign countries, Japan was prepared to make concessions to countries with which it had signed treaties. Before describing the concessions, he offered evidence of Japan’s modernization and its qualifications for being accorded equality with the major powers. He claimed that Japan had always followed universally recognized principles of law and morality. It had ended the feudal system and enabled all men to enjoy equal rights. It had reformed the methods of government and separated the administrative and judicial systems. It had spread education and relaxed the ban on Christianity. It had established a postal system and joined the Universal Postal Union. It had built a telegraph system, a railway system, and lighthouses along the coasts. It had established a penal code and laws governing appeals. But the Japanese were not resting on these achievements; they were striving for greater progress and improvement and wished to establish ever closer connections with all countries in the belief that this would be mutually beneficial.

  Unfortunately, there still were obstacles to friendship and trade with foreigners. According to the present treaties, foreigners were not allowed to live or trade outside the treaty ports. The government had long waited for the proper moment to remove these obstacles and believed that it had now arrived. On condition that foreigners obeyed Japanese laws, they would be free to travel throughout the country, live where they pleased, acquire movable and immovable property, engage in trade, and operate industries. On the day that this new system went into effect, foreign citizens would be subject to jurisdiction dissimilar to what they had experienced while in the treaty ports, but it would be fair. Inoue had not the slightest doubt that its fairness would be acknowledged. This would revolutionize the relations of Japanese and foreigners and build friendship between them. Trade would be free and foreign capital welcomed, in this way creating prosperity for industry and trade. He expected that a large-scale market for imported goods would be opened.13

  On June 1 Inoue formally presented to the preliminary conference a bill (based on his April speech) for revision of the treaties. The bill provided that five years after the revised treaties were signed, the entire country would be opened to foreigners to travel, live, and work where they pleased, with all the rights the Japanese enjoyed in trade or employment. In order to allay foreigners’ fears about Japanese laws, every effort would be made to secure their trust. The new laws would be based entirely on the legal principles prevalent in the West. All laws and regulations would be translated into at least one European language and would be distributed. Foreign judges would sit with Japanese judges. In the event that the jury system was adopted, in those cases involving foreigners, some jurors would be foreigners.

  When the bill was read, the German minister at once expressed his admiration for the bill’s plans for mutual benefit, praising particularly the generous guarantees to foreigners. He said he would report the content of the bill to his government and recommend revision of the treaties. He was followed by the ministers of Belgium, Portugal, Austria-Hungary, Holland, Spain, Italy, and Russia, all of whom agreed with the German envoy. The American envoy praised the reasonableness of the Japanese plan and said that he would be delighted to recommend that his government accept the plan. He added that the elimination of extraterritoriality would soften Japanese feelings of discontent and bitterness, preserve friendly relations with the Japanese people, and promote business and trade. Only Sir Harry Parkes, the British envoy, declined to join in the chorus of praise for the bill, saying that he would have to study it more carefully.14

  On July 18 Parkes replied to the preliminary conference that the British government was adamantly opposed to Inoue’s proposal and presented a memorandum explaining the reasons. He said that although Japan would commence having jurisdiction from the day after the approval of the revised treaties, it would not accord the promised privileges to foreigners for five years. During this time, the only advantage they would enjoy was the freedom to travel in the interior on business; they would not be able to live there, possess property, or use capital in their occupations. Moreover, the judicial system and judicial methods promised by the Japanese were extremely vague and by no means sufficient to guarantee foreigners’ rights and benefits. Because the Japanese government had yet to formulate a civil or commercial code and the new penal code had been in operation for only one year, it would be exceedingly difficult for his government to judge whether or not the new laws would be effective. He expected that it would take considerable time before the proposal could be approved and so recommended that the governments of Japan and the other countries involved give it their most careful attention. Parkes believed that the present proposal could not enjoy the trust of Englishmen and that it would not be able to attract the flow of foreign capital into Japan necessary for Japan’s future prosperity.15 He quoted “an able Japanese publicist” who as late as the close of 1879 declared that “the laws did not duly protect the lives, liberties, and property of the Japanese themselves, and required very considerable reform before they could be generally approved by the Japanese people.”16

  Although England was the only country to speak out against the proposal, Parkes’s voice was decisive. He suggested that the ministers of other countries discuss the proposal freely, but they decided instead to refer the matter back to their governments. Thus ended the sixteenth session of the preliminary conference on July 27.

  In reading Parkes’s objections to Inoue’s proposal for eliminating extraterritoriality, it is difficult not to recognize the force of his arguments. Neither he nor his government saw any reason to hurry with treaty revision, and they were reluctant to give up rights they enjoyed without being absolutely sure the new system would work equally to their advantage. Parkes said in his memorandum that he sympathized with the desire of the Japanese to abolish completely consular jurisdiction, but his sympathy does not appear to have been deep. He seems not to have shared the awareness of the American minister (John Bingham) of the resentment the Japanese felt over the extraterritoriality imposed by foreign governments, an unmistakable indication of their belief that Japan was still uncivilized. Parkes’s citation of the words of “an able Japanese publicist” did not allude to this resentment, which was probably more keenly felt by Japanese than any uncertainty over the new laws. In sum, Parkes was defending a system that had become odious to the Japanese as a negation of all they had achieved since the Restoration.

  In the meantime, Japanese attention was diverted from the long-standing question of treaty revision to a more immediate problem, an uprising of Korean soldiers in Seoul on July 23. The ultimate cause was anger over reforms that the government had ordered in the armed forces. At the end of 1881, as part of their plan to modernize Korea, King Kojong and his consort, Queen Min,17 had invited the military attaché of the Japanese legation, Lieutenant Horimoto Reizō, to serve as an adviser in creating a modern army. One hundred young men of the aristocracy were given Japanese-style military training, and it annoyed soldiers of the old army to see how much better equipped and treated these young men were than themselves. More than 1,000 soldiers, most of them old or disabled, had been discharged in the process of revamping the army, and the rest had not been given their pay in rice for thirteen months. In June, having been informed of the situation, the king ordered that a month’s allowance of rice be given to the soldiers. He directed Min Kyom-ho, the overseer of government finances, to make the payment. Min handed the matter over to his steward, who sold the good rice he had been given and used the money to buy millet that he mixed with sand and bran. It was so rotte
n and foul smelling as to be inedible.18

  The enraged soldiers headed for the residence of Min Kyom-ho, whom they suspected of having swindled them out of their rice. Min, getting word of the revolt, ordered the police to arrest some of the ringleaders and announced that they would be executed the next morning, assuming that this would serve as a warning to the others. When, however, the rioters learned what had happened, they broke into Min’s house to take revenge. He was not there, so they dissipated their frustration by destroying his furniture and other possessions.

  The rioters moved on to an armory, from which they stole weapons and ammunition. Better armed than ever before in their careers as soldiers, they headed for the prison and, overpowering the guards, released not only the men who had been arrested that day by Min Kyom-ho but many political prisoners. Min, who was in the royal palace, summoned the army to quell the rebellion, but it was too late: the original body of rioters had been swelled by the poor of the city and other malcontents, and the revolt had assumed major proportions.

  One group of rioters went to Lieutenant Horimoto’s quarters and took turns in stabbing the cowering military instructor, administering many small wounds until they slowly killed him.19 Another group, some 3,000 strong, after arming themselves with weapons taken from a looted depot, headed for the Japanese legation. The royal palace had received word of the imminent danger, along with the admission that the king was powerless to subdue the rioters.20 Inside the legation were the minister, Hanabusa Yoshimoto (1842–1917), seventeen members of his staff, and ten police officers. The mob surrounded the legation, shouting its intention of killing all the Japanese.