Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (154 page)

The harsh sentences passed even on persons who were only tangentially related to the grand treason plot shocked some in the Japanese literary world, and there were protests from abroad, but probably most people at the time believed that the anarchists’ plot was a loathsome act of rebellion for which the death penalty was fully justified.
⁵³
The trial and conviction of the twenty-six defendants satisfied the authorities who were eager to stamp out socialism. It would take another decade for the socialists to emerge from the winter of their discontent.

At this distance from the events, one tends to sympathize with the executed men and woman, who were motivated by ideals, not by a lust for power. The failure of the planned murder of the emperor makes it easy to forgive the would-be killers and deplore their execution. Unfortunately, this was not the last assassination plot planned or carried out in Japan, although the assassins of the next thirty years were not anarchists but fanatics of the extreme right.

Chapter 61

Once the excitement of the grand treason had died down, the forty-fourth year of Emperor Meiji’s reign was marked by few dramatic incidents. The noteworthy events included the signing of new treaties of commerce with America, France, Spain, and other countries, ending most of the economic and legal discrimination against Japan that had characterized earlier treaties. However, the question of Japanese immigration marred the generally friendly relations with the United States and remained a source of bitter feelings for years.

The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was renewed for a third time in July 1911, though weakened by modifications of the original provisions. The Americans, dismayed over the buildup in the Japanese navy and Japanese expansion in Korea and Manchuria, blamed the alliance for these unwelcome developments and were doubtless hoping that the alliance would be terminated.
¹
The British could not completely ignore American objections, if only because they were about to sign a treaty with the United States providing for compulsory arbitration in the event of differences between the two countries. Compulsory arbitration, however, contradicted the terms of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. If Japan and the United States went to war, Britain would be obligated by the alliance to join Japan in fighting the United States; but if Britain were bound to submit to arbitration, the arbitrators might rule against participation in a war. For their part, the Japanese refused to submit to arbitration their differences with other countries. Experience had taught them that whenever a conflict arose between a country of the white race and a country of the yellow race and it was submitted to arbitration, the country of the white race always won.
²

In the end, however, the Japanese saved the alliance by agreeing that in the event the Japanese went to war with a country with which Britain had concluded a treaty of arbitration (for example, the United States), Britain would not be obligated to support the Japanese.
³
The Japanese made this concession because they still believed that the alliance helped preserve peace in the Far East, but the alliance had in fact lost much of its original importance to the Japanese, both as a symbol of equality with a European power and as a bulwark against Russian aggression.

There were signs also that the intensely pro-Japanese feelings that had swept through Britain when the alliance was first proclaimed had cooled, especially since the Russo-Japanese War. Antipathy toward the Japanese, possibly originating in latent racial and religious prejudices, took the form of fears over the development of Japanese commerce and industry, concern that Japan was using the alliance to its own advantage, and a growing conviction that Japan had violated China’s territorial integrity and (despite its professed adherence to the Open Door policy) was monopolizing vital interests in Manchuria.
⁴
Some in Britain called for an end to the alliance, but Sir Edward Grey, the foreign secretary, favored renewal because he felt the Japanese navy was needed to counter the growing German navy.

About this time, in July 1911, Yamagata Aritomo presented a memorial to the throne deploring the laxness that had crept over the Japanese since the Russo-Japanese War. He urged rearmament, pointing out that Russia had recovered from the war, that the Chinese army was far more effectual than in the past, and that (although it was hard to imagine) war was sure to occur sooner or later between Japan and the United States because the latter’s Pacific Ocean policy so frequently clashed with Japanese interests.
⁵

Despite such dire prospects, the prevailing atmosphere in Japan was peaceful. There was even leeway for thinking about the hitherto neglected parts of the population. For the first time, the emperor demonstrated his awareness of the plight of those who had been left behind in the rapid development of the Japanese economy. On February 11 he issued a rescript to Katsura Tar
ō
(once again the prime minister) containing these words:

One matter causes me constant concern—the possibility that there may be needy people, with no one they can turn to, who are unable to live out their natural span of life because they lack medical care. I intend therefore to broaden the channels for saving lives by providing free medicine and medical care. I shall give funds for this purpose from my private purse, to be used as capital. I call on you to implement my wishes and take the proper steps so that our entire people will always have something they can depend on.
⁶

That day, the emperor informed the minister of the treasury that he intended to give 1.5 million yen for medical care for the poor. This was not the emperor’s first gift to poor people in need of medical attention. In 1878, distressed by the prevalence of trachoma in Niigata, he had given money for treatment.
⁷
Whenever there was a fire, a flood, or an earthquake anywhere in Japan (and sometimes abroad), he had made donations to the victims. But the scale this time was so much larger than before that it seemed an entirely new kind of concern. Perhaps as the emperor himself began to feel the weight of old age and illness, his thoughts had turned to others who bore the same burdens.

This year the emperor began to cancel appearances if they seemed likely to prove harmful to his health. On April 20, for example, he and the empress were scheduled to attend a cherry-blossom viewing at the Hama Detached Palace, but a strong wind was raising dust, and he decided not to go.
⁸
He had never enjoyed garden parties, where he had to be cordial to whoever attended, and he may have felt as if he had shaken hands a sufficient number of times with foreign diplomats, but he had always submitted to these irksome duties. Now, however, not even his Confucian training enabled him to overcome physical weariness.

Meiji put himself to what would be a final test of endurance later that year when he attended the Special Grand Army Maneuvers in Fukuoka Prefecture. He left T
ō
ky
ō
by train on November 7 and, after stops on the way at Shizuoka and Himeji, arrived on the ninth at Mitajiri in Ch
ō
sh
ū
, where he was the guest of M
ō
ri Motoaki. They were joined by a number of distinguished Ch
ō
sh
ū
men, including Yamagata Aritomo, Katsura Tar
ō
, and Hara Takashi. That night, M
ō
ri offered entertainment calculated to please the emperor—musical ballads played on Satsuma and Chikuzen biwas commemorating heroic deeds of the past, followed by motion pictures, probably the first he had seen. The films showed whaling off the Aomori coast, a skit about a badger turning into a man, and travel down the rapids in deepest Africa. A member of the emperor’s party provided explanations.
⁹

The emperor left the next day for Shimonoseki, where he boarded a naval vessel for Moji and from there went by train to Kurume, the site of Grand Headquarters. On November 11 the emperor left Kurume and traveled by train and carriage to the site of the maneuvers. He was able to climb to an observation post on the top of a hill, thanks to a flight of sixty wooden steps up the hill that had been built for his convenience. A bamboo railing on which he could lean as he climbed was provided along the stairs. It was evident to everyone that the climbing exhausted him, but he reached the top and observed maneuvers for about two hours.

A photograph of the emperor bending over a map was taken at this time by an army photographer.
¹⁰
This profile photograph was published after his death along with a facsimile of his signature, but the posture was rotated ninety degrees to make him stand straight. It probably was the first photograph taken of the emperor in thirty-nine years, since he posed for Uchida Kuichi in 1873.
¹¹

On the return journey the emperor again received hospitality from M
ō
ri Motoaki at Mitajiri and was entertained by music and a mixture of informative and humorous films. The emperor learned after his return to T
ō
ky
ō
that a man who had been responsible for temporarily derailing the emperor’s train on November 10, causing a delay of one hour, had atoned for his mistake by throwing himself under the wheels of another train. The emperor sent 300 yen to his family.
¹²

In February 1912, plans for the annual autumn Grand Maneuvers were presented to the emperor for his approval. They specified that he would spend only the second night of maneuvers in Kawagoe and that on the remaining three nights he would return to T
ō
ky
ō
. This provision was obviously made out of concern for the emperor’s failing health.

The emperor was unusually slow to approve the plans. When the general staff could wait no longer, the chief of the General Affairs Department visited the palace and asked (through the senior chamberlain) the emperor’s wishes. He replied, “When I looked at the plans for the maneuvers, I saw I was to spend only one night in Kawagoe. The troops are to sleep in the open, regardless of whether it is windy or raining, and then carry out actual warfare. How could I be the only one to sleep happily in the palace? I can’t approve such plans.” The plans were accordingly revised to provide that the emperor would spend the full period of the maneuvers in Kawagoe. When the new plans were submitted, he approved them on the same day.
¹³
The emperor insisted (as he had during the Sino-Japanese War) on sharing the hardships of the soldiers and was unwilling to admit that observing maneuvers might prove a strain on his health.

Soon after the emperor’s return to T
ō
ky
ō
from Fukuoka, he received word of major disturbances in China. The Japanese government was inclined to watch developments for a time rather than act precipitously, but of late the haplessness of the Chinese court had been all too apparent, and hopes that it might restore order without foreign intervention had more or less disappeared. Reports stated that revolutionary forces seeking to overthrow the Manchu regime had established bases in various places, but they lacked unity. Internal dissension among the rebel leaders and the lack of training of their hastily mustered troops vitiated their strength, and it was doubtful they could maintain order in the areas they occupied. If the disturbances continued over a long period of time, they would interfere with trade and might also revive Boxer-style xenophobia. In view of this tense situation, the Japanese government concluded that countries with major concerns in China could not merely watch with folded arms.

The Japanese ambassador in London was asked to determine what steps Britain intended to take in the face of the crisis. He was also directed to explain that Japan could not accept the arguments of those who sought to establish a republic in China. Japan favored a government that, though nominally in the hands of the Manchus, was actually run by Chinese.
¹⁴

Concern over the situation in China continued to grow in Japan. General Yüan Shih-k’ai, named as premier by the Manchu court in a desperate gesture to maintain its existence, was well known to the Japanese. He had played a prominent role in Korea before the Sino-Japanese War and after the war had established a reputation by rebuilding the Chinese army. Now he seemed to be the monarchists’ last hope, but in fact he saw a chance to become the first president of China. British support of the Manchus wavered, and even within the Manchu government, some high-placed men were disposed to accept a republic.