Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (33 page)

On the same day as the Charter Oath was promulgated, a letter written in the name of the emperor was made public. The letter described the great achievements of his ancestors, contained words of comfort for his people, and promised to exalt the nation’s prestige in the eyes of foreign countries:

Ever since, quite unexpectedly, We succeeded to the throne, young and weak though We are, We have been unable to control Our apprehension, day and night, over how We are to remain faithful to Our ancestors when dealing with foreign countries. It is Our belief that when the authority of the court declined in the middle ages and the military seized power, they maintained on the surface worshipful respect of the court, but in reality their respect intentionally isolated the court, making it impossible for the court, as the father and mother of the entire people, to know the people’s feelings. In the end, the emperor became the sovereign of the multitude in name only. That is how it happens that although awe of the court today is greater than ever before, the prestige of the court has diminished correspondingly, and the separation between those above and those below is as great as that between heaven and earth. Under these conditions, how are We to reign over the country? Now, at a time of renovation of rule of the country, if even one of the millions of people in this country is unable to find his place in society, this will be entirely Our fault. Accordingly, We have personally exerted Our physical and spiritual powers to confront the crisis. It is only by stepping into the shoes Our ancestors wore in ancient times and throwing Ourself into governing the country that We fulfill Our Heaven-sent mission and do not violate Our duty as the ruler of the hundred millions.

In ancient times Our ancestors personally disposed of all state affairs. If anyone behaved in a manner inappropriate in a subject, they themselves would punish the guilty. The administration of the court was simple in every respect, and because the emperor was not held in awe, as he is today, emperor and subjects were close; those above and those below loved each other; the blessings of heaven pervaded the land; and the majesty of the country shone brightly abroad. In recent times the world has become much more civilized. At a time when every other country is progressing in all directions, only our country, being unfamiliar with the situation prevailing in the world, stubbornly maintains old customs and does not seek the fruits of change. It fills Us with dread to think that if We were idly to spend a peaceful existence in the palace, enjoying the tranquillity of each day and forgetful of the hundred years of griefs, Our country would in the end be subject to the contempt of all others, bringing shame to Our ancestors and hardship to the people. For this reason We have sworn, along with many officials and daimyos, to continue the glorious work of Our ancestors. Regardless of the pain and suffering it may entail, We intend personally to rule over the entire country, to comfort you, the numberless people, and in the end to open up the ten thousand leagues of ocean waves, to proclaim the glory of our country to the world and bring to the land the unshakable security of Mount Fuji. You of countless numbers have become accustomed to the evils inherited from the past and to think of the court only as a place to held in awe. Not knowing the acute danger threatening the Land of the Gods, you manifest extreme surprise when We bestir Us, and this has given rise to doubts of every kind. The people are confused, but if a time should come when they prevent Us from carrying out Our plans, this would mean not only that We had wandered from the Way of the ruler but that they had caused Us to lose Our ancestral patrimony. You of countless numbers give due consideration to Our aspirations and join with Us. Cast away private thoughts and choose the general good. Help Us in Our work and ensure the safety of the Land of the Gods. If We can comfort the spirits of my ancestors, this will be the greatest happiness of Our life.
¹¹

The letter is of special interest because it is so unlike anything K
ō
mei or any earlier emperor would have written. The main point seems to be the emperor’s desire for closer contact between himself and his people. He blames the military for having created an aura of awe about the throne that made it impossible both for the people to know the emperor and for the emperor to be aware of his people’s feelings. He intends now, he says, to leave behind the passive role of the emperor and take positive action on behalf of his country. It is a call for cooperation in the great changes that are about to occur, although it would not have occurred to Meiji’s predecessors that the cooperation of the people was essential.

On April 8, the day after the swearing of the Charter Oath, signboards listing five prohibitory decrees were erected, replacing those of the shogunate. The first three proscriptions were similar to those long favored by the shogunate, and the remaining two were expedients designed to meet the present crisis.

The first injunction was traditional: “The five moral rules of human conduct are to be properly followed. Widows, widowers, orphans, childless old people, the maimed, and the disabled are to be pitied. There must be no murders, arson, theft, or other evil deeds.”

The second injunction perpetuated the shogunate’s prohibition on conspiracies, appeals by irregular processes, mass desertions of villages, and various other acts of insubordination. The third signboard strictly forbade Christianity and, promising a reward, urged people to report to the authorities anyone suspected of practicing Christianity.

These first three injunctions can hardly have surprised anyone, but the remaining two were more to the point. The fourth was apparently intended to discourage those who still harbored feelings of
j
ō
i
from attempting by intimidation or bloodshed to rid the country of foreigners:

The policy of the Imperial Government has been completely changed: that is to say, the court, for good reasons, has opened relations with foreign countries and concluded treaties with them in accordance with international law. Accordingly, foreigners must not be harmed; anyone who violates this is contravening the court’s command. Such action will not only create danger for the nation but will be a breach of international faith that impairs the prestige of the empire. It will be punished appropriately.

The fifth injunction was probably intended to discourage those who, dissatisfied with conditions at home, planned to take advantage of the greater ease of travel since the fall of the shogunate to move to more congenial places: “Samurai and commoners are strictly prohibited from absconding from their native provinces. Anyone who has complaints to make about his province or his master is permitted to present them to the cabinet [
daj
ō
kan
].”

These signboards, erected all over the country, were much better known to the mass of the population than the Charter Oath pronounced before nobles and daimyos.
¹²
The fourth injunction was of particular importance, spelling the end of the
j
ō
i
part of the slogan of
sonn
ō
j
ō
i
.

Just at this time, negotiations were under way in Edo between Saig
ō
Takamori and Katsu Kaish
ū
(1823–1899), a councillor of Yoshinobu, for the surrender of Edo Castle. The opinions of a foreigner, the British minister Sir Harry Parkes, were sought. According to Sir Ernest Satow,

[Katsu] said he was ready to fight in defense of Keiki’s [Yoshinobu’s] life, and expressed his confidence in Saig
ō
’s ability to prevent a demand being made which might not only be a disgrace to the Mikado, but prolong the civil war. He begged that Sir Harry Parkes would use his influence with the Mikado’s government to obviate such a disaster. This the chief did repeatedly, and in particular when Saig
ō
called on him on April 28, he urged on him that severity toward Keiki or his supporters, especially in the way of personal punishment, would injure the reputation of the new government in the opinion of European Powers. Saig
ō
said the life of the ex-Sh
ō
gun would not be demanded, and he hoped that similar leniency would be extended to those who had instigated him to march against Ki
ō
to.
¹³

The success of the negotiations that resulted in the bloodless surrender of Edo Castle owed much to this advice from a foreigner. On April 26 sixty men, led by Hashimoto Saneyana (a Ky
ō
to noble) and Saig
ō
Takamori, were admitted to Edo Castle. They were met at the front gate by the new lord of the castle, Tokugawa Yoshiyori, who showed them the greatest deference. It was agreed that the castle would be turned over to the imperial army one week later, on May 4. On that day the stronghold of the shogunate was in fact delivered into the hands of the emperor’s army.
¹⁴

In the meantime, an event of equally great significance to Emperor Meiji took place. On April 14 he left the Gosho on his way to
Ō
saka as commander in chief of the imperial forces. He rode in the informal imperial palanquin and carried with him the sacred mirror. A brocade pennant fluttered above. Twenty-nine nobles headed by Prince Hirotsune, Sanj
ō
Sanetomi, and Nakayama Tadayasu rode beside him. Prince Taruhito led the advance party. The emperor was seen off by the empress dowager and nobles and officials, all dressed in formal robes. As the imperial palanquin passed along Sakai Street and Sanj
ō
Avenue, crowds knelt in reverence along the way. At eight that evening the procession reached the Hachiman Shrine at Iwashimizu, where the emperor spent the night. Traveling in slow stages, the emperor did not reach the Higashi Honganji Betsuin in
Ō
saka, which would be his residence, until the afternoon of April 16.
¹⁵

Perhaps the single most exciting moment for the emperor on this momentous journey outside the capital was his first glimpse of the Inland Sea on April 19 when he reviewed the vessels of his fleet off Mount Temp
ō
. He boarded a light skiff on the banks of the Aji River and sailed down the river, protected by guards lining both banks. At noon he reached Temp
ō
. The
Denry
ū
maru
, a ship belonging to the Saga domain, fired a salute, followed by a salute from a French warship at anchor and then by a response from the
Denry
ū
maru
. After lunch the emperor observed the spectacle of the fleet maneuvering. Surely this was one of the happiest days of the emperor’s life. Not only had he left the walled-in world of the Gosho, but he had seen a large body of water and had been acclaimed by the roar of naval guns.

The war had not ended. Fighting continued in the north, and Enomoto Takeaki had sailed the shogun’s fleet off to Hokkaid
ō
. Within the city of Edo there was the menace of the Sh
ō
gitai, a military unit that continued to support the deposed shogun even after the castle had been surrendered. Subduing these rebellious elements would take time, but (at least in retrospect) it seems clear that the imperial forces were no longer in serious danger.
¹⁶

In the meantime, the young emperor was enjoying his stay in
Ōsaka
. On May 22 he granted an audience to the English minister plenipotentiary, Sir Harry Parkes, who brought with him his credentials from Queen Victoria. Parkes was accompanied by Admiral A. B. Keppel, Mitford, Satow, and various members of the legation and naval staffs. The audience took place in the Nishi Honganji. In view of the violence that had been directed against Parkes and his escort at the time of his previous audience, this time security was extremely strict. Satow’s description of the audience is well known:

On a dais at the extreme end sat the Mikado, under a canopy supported by black-lacquered poles, and with the blinds rolled up as high as was possible. We advanced up the middle of the room in double column, the one on the right headed by the Admiral and composed of naval officers, the other headed by the minister, and consisting of the legation staff. Everyone made three bows, first on advancing into the middle of the room, the second at the foot of the dais, the third on mounting the dais, which was large enough to afford place for us all. The Mikado rose and stood under the canopy from the moment that we began to bow. The principal minister for Foreign Affairs and one other great personage knelt, one on each side of the throne.

In front of the throne, on each side, stood a small wooden image of a lion; these are of great antiquity and are much revered by the Japanese people. Behind the throne a crowd of courtiers were ranged in a double row, wearing little black paper caps and gorgeous brocade robes of various hues. As the Mikado stood up, the upper part of his face, including the eyes, became hidden from view, but I saw the whole of it whenever he moved. His complexion was white, perhaps artificially so rendered, his mouth badly formed, what a doctor would call prognathous, but the general contour was good. His eyebrows were shaved off, and painted in an inch higher up. His costume consisted of a long black loose cape hanging backward, a white upper garment or mantle and voluminous purple trousers….

Sir Harry stepping forward put the Queen’s letter into the hand of the Mikado, who evidently felt bashful or timid, and had to be assisted by Yamashina no Miya;
¹⁷
his part was to receive it from the Mikado. Then His Majesty forgot his speech, but catching a word from the personage on his left managed to get out the first sentence, whereupon It
ō
[Hirobumi] read out the translation of the whole that had been prepared beforehand. Sir Harry then introduced each of us in turn, and next the Admiral, who presented his officers. The Mikado expressed the hope that all was well with the squadron under his command, and we retired backward out of the presence into the ante-chamber, bowing as we went, and congratulating ourselves that everything had passed off without a hitch.
¹⁸