Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (87 page)

The emperor’s own health also suffered this year: in September he had an another attack of beriberi. The emperor’s beriberi was, fortunately, not malignant, but, the doctors argued, it might well become so in T
ō
ky
ō
, the most dangerous place for infection. They advised building a detached palace perhaps sixty or seventy miles from T
ō
ky
ō
at a place with beautiful surroundings and pure air and urged the emperor to spend the dangerous time of year away from T
ō
ky
ō
.
⁸
Needless to say, Meiji once again ignored their advice.

The doctors also expressed their grief over the deaths of the six princes and princesses, all of them victims of the same disease: meningitis. They believed that any royal infants who were born in the future should be brought up differently from the traditional palace customs. They recommended that a palace be built where the children might escape the summer heat. More important, they ascribed the deaths to some inborn infirmity and recommended all possible precautions be taken for their health from the time their mother’s pregnancy was first recognized. The emperor gladly agreed to these suggestions. A palace was subsequently built at Hakone, and residences at Nikk
ō
and elsewhere. The royal children born to the emperor’s concubines were sent to these houses when it was thought they needed a change of air, but the emperor himself, who gave little thought to his health, never stayed at any of them. The emperor seems to have been happiest when he managed to get away from the court for a few days to observe maneuvers.
⁹

During the first half of 1883, It
ō
Hirobumi was still in Europe studying various constitutions in the hopes of finding suitable models for the future Japanese constitution. He spent most of his time in Germany and Austria, believing that their constitutions best fitted Japan’s needs. He was especially impressed by two scholars of constitutional law, Rudolf von Gneist
¹⁰
and Lorentz von Stein,
¹¹
and invited Stein to accompany him when he returned to Japan to serve as an adviser in both preparing the constitution and establishing an educational policy for Japanese universities.

Stein declined the invitation, citing his advanced age, which made it impossible for him to travel abroad, and also his belief that a country’s system of law must be based on the traditions of that country. He believed that if a people felt it advisable to borrow laws from another country, it must, first of all, trace back to their sources the reasons for the existence of these laws, to consider their history, and then to judge whether or not they were applicable to their own country.
¹²

It
ō
was all the more impressed by Stein on reading this response, but it was clear he would not travel to Japan. It
ō
asked Bismarck if he could recommend someone else to take Stein’s place. After highly praising Japan’s progress, Bismarck mentioned three scholars. It
ō
at once cabled the cabinet for authorization to invite them. The foreign minister, Inoue Kaoru, sent It
ō
a cable giving him permission to make the appointments but warning that Japan must not be unduly influenced by Bismarck and German power. He recalled how French officers, invited to train the Japanese army, had insisted on following French procedures in all matters, resulting in dissension with the army minister. In any case, Inoue said, it was not the government’s intention to adopt a purely German style of constitution and laws. German advisers should be chosen who, in the capacity of Japanese civil servants, would be capable of performing effectively under the terms of their contracts.

Despite this apparent lack of enthusiasm for his project, It
ō
did not abandon hope of receiving advice from German and Austrian legal experts. On October 10 the emperor agreed to appoint Stein as a member of the Japanese legation in Austria, to serve as an adviser on questions pertaining to the Japanese legal system.
¹³

It
ō
returned from Europe early in August along with members of his mission. He had spent a year and a half visiting Germany, Austria, England, France, Russia, and Italy, studying their constitutions. He informed Iwakura that he had learned the general principles of state organization from Gneist and Stein and had obtained the essential knowledge to establish the foundations of the imperial house. He believed that the time had arrived to establish a constitutional monarchy, to perfect the imperial rule, and to establish legislative and judicial systems. He was aware that many in Japan had been seduced by the extreme liberalism of England and France, but he was convinced that such people could be kept under control by adopting his proposals.

It
ō
’s thoughts were so much occupied with the future of Japan that he seemed not to notice that Japanese traditions were rapidly eroding despite efforts to revive festivals and other manifestations of traditional beliefs.
¹⁴
The death of Iwakura Tomomi on July 20 represented perhaps the sharpest break with the past. Iwakura had been appointed as a chamberlain to Emperor K
ō
mei in 1854, when Meiji was only two years old, and he probably figured in the emperor’s earliest memories. Iwakura had played a vital part in almost every important event affecting the monarchy ever since that time. Although he came from the lower ranks of the nobility, he was a noble, a distinction that set him off from most members of the Meiji government. This distinction at times led to clashes with the samurai,
¹⁵
but it also enabled Iwakura to enjoy a special relationship with the emperor. He was a more active member of the Meiji government than other nobles, such as Prince Taruhito or Sanj
ō
Sanetomi, although both were of higher status than himself.

Iwakura had gone to Ky
ō
to in May to supervise plans for restoring the imperial palace. The emperor had become increasingly concerned over the dilapidation not only of the palace but of the entire city, and he readily agreed when Iwakura proposed that steps be taken to arrest further decay.
¹⁶
The emperor sent Iwakura and other officials to Ky
ō
to to survey the situation.

Iwakura’s plans included the establishment of a branch office of the Imperial Household Ministry to administer the palace, the imperial gardens, the detached palaces, and the tombs. An office would be created to deal with shrines and temples in the region. Festivals would be renewed and a shrine erected in the Gosho to the memory of Emperor Kammu, revered as the founder of the city of Ky
ō
to. The area around the Gosho, where once the houses of the nobles stood, would be divided by roads; trees would be planted; and clean water would be sent flowing through the gutters. Unnecessary buildings would be removed. The Shugaku-in Detached Palace would be repaired, and Nij
ō
Castle officially recognized as a palace. Western-style buildings would be erected in the area of the Kamo River as places where distinguished visitors from abroad might stay.
¹⁷

These plans were eventually carried out, helping reverse the city’s steady deterioration. Iwakura’s enthusiasm for the project compelled him to remain at his task even after he began to feel chest pains and such acute stricture of the stomach that he was unable to eat or drink. When word reached the emperor of Iwakura’s illness, he was greatly concerned and at once sent his personal physician, It
ō
H
ō
sei, to examine Iwakura.

Iwakura’s condition improved sufficiently for him to return to T
ō
ky
ō
, only to suffer a relapse after arriving. On July 5 the emperor, worried about Iwakura’s health, expressed his intention of paying a visit to the sickroom. Overcome by awe and trepidation, Iwakura sent his son to decline the honor, but it was too late: the imperial carriage had already arrived. Iwakura, hastily changing clothes, left his sickbed and, supported by two sons, approached the emperor to convey his gratitude. At the sight of Iwakura’s frail condition, the emperor was moved to tears.

A week later the empress, learning that Iwakura still showed no signs of recovery, wished to comfort him. “However,” she said, “the minister of the right places great importance on showing the proper deference. If he hears I am coming he will unquestionably make every effort to welcome and send me off, regardless of the harm it may do him in his illness. This is not what I intend. I shall visit him today as Ichij
ō
Tadaka’s daughter, and we shall meet without his getting out of bed.”
¹⁸

The emperor visited Iwakura for the second time on July 19. As he was about to leave the palace, he told Tokudaiji Sanetsune, “I am going to take my last farewell of the minister of the right.” He called for his palanquin and, not waiting for his full escort, left the palace. An equerry preceded the emperor. He informed Iwakura that the emperor would be coming. Iwakura sobbed and shed tears of gratitude. When the emperor arrived, Iwakura tried to raise himself and bow, but he was now so stricken that his body would not obey him. All he could do was join his hands to express his gratitude. Seeing Iwakura’s condition, the emperor wept and could barely ask how he felt. Iwakura was unable to reply. For a few moments the emperor and his minister gazed at each other without words, and then the emperor departed. That day Iwakura’s request to resign his office was granted. He died on July 20.

The emperor, deeply grieved, canceled all court business for three days and granted Iwakura a state funeral. In his eulogy, he bestowed on Iwakura the title of
daj
ō
daijin
, the highest position a subject could attain. After praising the achievements that made Iwakura a “pillar of the state,” he wrote movingly of his personal relationship: “I ascended the throne when I was still a child. I depended on him completely for guidance, and I imbibed the wisdom he unstintingly gave me. The kindness of my teacher was the same as a father’s. Heaven did not spare him; how can I overcome these feelings of bitter grief?”
¹⁹

Most of Meiji’s official utterances consisted mainly of stereotyped phrases, but these words reveal his unmistakable grief over the loss of his mentor.
²⁰

The emperor bade farewell not long afterward to another person who for many years had figured importantly in his life: Sir Harry S. Parkes was being transferred to China. During the farewell luncheon, offered at the palace, the emperor delivered a rescript in which he expressed his regrets that Parkes was leaving Japan after eighteen years of service. The emperor graciously thanked Parkes not only for his efforts to cultivate relations between his country and Japan but also for having supported the Meiji Restoration and recommending many beneficial projects. In recognition of these services to Japan, the emperor had intended to give Parkes the Grand Order of the Rising Sun, but the British government would not permit this. Instead, he gave Parkes two of his own possessions, an incense burner and a flower vase. He said it would please him if Parkes cherished them as mementos of deep feelings.
²¹

Here, too, the emperor’s words have a ring of sincerity, for this was not the language he normally used when saying goodbye to foreign dignitaries. It is surprising, all the same, that the emperor spoke so warmly of Parkes, who was generally arrogant and irritable in his dealings with the Japanese and who at this time (according to Sir Ernest Satow) was “the bugbear of the Japanese public,” as much hated and feared as Napoleon had been by the English.
²²
Parkes’s recent opposition to ending extraterritoriality surely did not endear him to the emperor, but he managed to surmount any feelings of annoyance to render a generous tribute. Satow, often critical of Parkes, also expressed admiration:

Japan herself owes to his exertions a debt which she can never repay and has never fully acknowledged. If he had taken a different side in the revolution of 1868, if he had simply acted with the majority of his colleagues, almost insurmountable difficulties would have been placed in the Mikado’s restoration, and the civil war could never have been brought to so speedy a termination.
²³

During the following year, 1884, the emperor figured surprising little in the major events. Most of his activities were repetitions of the previous year’s. Perhaps the action that gave him the greatest pleasure was bestowing on the father of Emperor K
ō
kaku the posthumous title of Emperor Ky
ō
k
ō
.
²⁴
Emperor K
ō
kaku had attempted for years, as an act of filial piety, to obtain for his father the title of
daij
ō
tenn
ō
(retired emperor), even though he had never reigned. The shogunate did not concur in K
ō
kaku’s plan and finally (in 1792) ordered the emperor to postpone action. Among the nobles who supported K
ō
kaku, the most prominent was the former major counselor Nakayama Naruchika, the great-grandfather of Meiji’s maternal grandfather, Nakayama Tadayasu. He was summoned to Edo for questioning and later placed under house arrest by the shogunate.
²⁵
Meiji no doubt believed that in bestowing the title Emperor Ky
ō
k
ō
, he had rectified a long-standing injustice to his ancestors.