Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (88 page)

In April war broke out between China and France over the possession of Annam. The Japanese government decided to cooperate with three other neutral nations (Germany, the United States, and England) in protecting the lives and property of their citizens in the areas affected by the war. This was the first time the Japanese had cooperated abroad in this fashion with other countries.
²⁶

Nothing is recorded of the emperor’s reactions to this war, but probably he was pleased when the Chinese seemed to be holding their own against the French. As his conversation with the king of Hawaii revealed, he deplored the encroachments of the European powers in Asia. But at this time, Japan’s relations with China were strained because of the Ry
ū
ky
ū
issue, and any pleasure in Chinese victories would have been muted.

In any case, it is unlikely that the emperor gave much thought to the Sino-French conflict. From the latter part of April, he frequently failed to attend cabinet meetings because of illness. The imperial household minister It
ō
Hirobumi, was greatly worried and asked the emperor to send for his physician, Ikeda Kensai. The emperor had always disliked doctors, and so when urged to have a doctor examine him, he refused, saying he was suffering from nothing worse than a cold. Only after It
ō
had repeatedly begged the emperor to see a doctor did he at last reluctantly consent.
²⁷

There is no indication what illness was troubling the emperor. It may be that he was suffering less from a physical ailment than from depression. The chamberlain Fujinami Kototada (1852–1926) late in life recalled how unapproachable the emperor had been at this time.
²⁸
He mentioned how after sending word that he was indisposed, the emperor often failed to attend cabinet meetings. Even when It
ō
Hirobumi requested an audience with him in order to report on some court or national business, the emperor sometimes refused to see him. Palace rules prescribed that except in a great emergency, not even the prime minister might visit the emperor’s sickroom, and It
ō
wondered whether the emperor was actually ill.

It
ō
was understandably upset. He was a minister and had matters of importance to report personally, but he was refused permission to appear before the emperor. Even supposing the emperor was indisposed, the illness seemed not to be so serious that he could not meet his ministers. It
ō
was convinced that urgent affairs of state must not be neglected even briefly. He wondered if the emperor found him personally offensive and for this reason was indisposed to discuss governmental business with him. It
ō
finally decided he could no longer bear the heavy responsibility of his office and, handing to an attendant his letter of resignation, left the palace.

Yoshii Tomozane (1828–1891) and others of It
ō
’s staff, learning what had happened, were alarmed. Yoshii sent for the chamberlain, Fujinami Kototada. He told him, “His Majesty is indisposed and refuses to see the imperial household minister. He is hardly likely to see any of us. There is nothing we can do about this, so we are asking you to think of a way of enabling the minister to have an audience.” He chose to make this request of Fujinami because he knew that he had served the emperor ever since he was a boy and that the emperor gave him free access to his private quarters.

Fujinami did not welcome the suggestion: “Reporting such matters is no part of a chamberlain’s duties. If I did mention them, I would be forced to some extent to admonish the emperor. My job does not permit this.”

Yoshii replied, “I understand your position. However, if speaking to the emperor makes him angry with you, we will do everything in our power to help you.
²⁹
We are asking you to risk your life by speaking to him.”

Faced with this appeal to his courage, Fujinami made up his mind to speak to the emperor. First he informed the empress of his resolution. Later, he also told the ladies-in-waiting. Watching for the right moment, he finally managed to have a private audience with the emperor. He said, “Recently the imperial household minister, It
ō
Hirobumi, has requested again and again an audience with Your Majesty to discuss state affairs, but you have refused to see him, saying you are confined by illness to your bed. Your Majesty is surely aware in your wisdom that affairs of state must not be neglected even for a day. I believe that it would also be highly improper for Your Majesty to learn from a third person what the minister wishes to report to you. I have read that the holy sovereigns of the past adjusted their dress and listened respectfully when their ministers made reports, but this is not possible under present conditions. I beg Your Majesty to grant Hirobumi an audience.”

The emperor colored with anger and reprimanded Fujinami, “You are in no position to tell me anything of this kind. Bear in mind the nature of your duties.”

Fujinami spoke again: “I am aware that addressing such matters to Your Majesty is in contravention of my duties, but for the sake of Your Majesty, for the sake of the nation, I cannot keep silent. That is what has possessed me to speak of such matters. I am ready to accept whatever punishment is due me, however severe. But I beg you with bended head to change your mind.”

The emperor, in a rage, got up from his seat without a word and went directly into his bedroom. The empress indicated to Fujinami that he should go, and he left.

The next morning, after inquiring about the emperor’s health, Fujinami set about performing his duties in his customary manner. When he went to another room, the emperor asked a page to see if Fujinami was still about. Fujinami told the page to inform the emperor that he had left. The emperor suddenly commanded: “Send for the imperial household minister!”

It
ō
went to the palace as soon as word reached him, and he was granted an audience with the emperor. It
ō
’s face showed no sign of his irritation over the failure of his previous attempts to see the emperor, and the emperor did not allude to them. It
ō
described the state business that had piled up and left after requesting the emperor to give these matters his attention. It
ō
, realizing it was owing to Fujinami that he had been able to see the emperor, thanked him for his faithful service.

One day, about two months after this incident, the emperor called to Fujinami, who was on duty in the corridor. He said, “The other day you spoke very well on my behalf. I am extremely pleased with you. If in the future the same sort of thing should occur, do not hesitate to do the same. These are mere trifles, but I give them to you.” He presented Fujinami with a gold watch and a bolt of silk. Fujinami wept profusely with gratitude.

This story fits in with the relative scarcity of mentions of the emperor’s activities during the period from April into the summer of 1884. However, this period was by no means a total blank: not only did the emperor give audiences to foreign visitors and the like, but on June 25, when the railway line from Ueno to Takasaki was completed, he rode the train to Takasaki. All the same, compared with other years, the entries relating to the emperor are so skimpy as to suggest that the emperor may not have been giving full attention to state business. Fujinami’s recollections of the incident were related long after the events, and he may have confused what happened at this time with It
ō
’s attempt to resign as minister in July 1885 after the emperor had refused to see him when he had urgent business.
³⁰
But surely Fujinami, even in old age, would not have invented the gift of the gold watch.

In any case, by the end of July the emperor had resumed his normal schedule. On July 28 he gave an audience to Medical Officer Second Class Mori Rintar
ō
(later known as the celebrated author Mori
Ō
gai), who had been ordered to study in Germany. On the same day, he attended the graduation exercises of the Army Military Academy and presented gifts to graduates with the best marks.

A more important event of this month did not directly involve the emperor. The foreign minister, Inoue Kaoru, stressing the urgent need for treaty revision, proposed that the ban on Christianity be lifted. Although the ban had not been enforced since March 1873, when all persons who had been imprisoned for professing Christianity were released, it was technically still in effect, and this continued to rankle some foreign powers.
³¹

Of equal concern was the rise of a reactionary group that called itself the Imperial Way (
k
ō
d
ō
). Its members denounced Christianity and, terming its believers “religious bandits,” called for their expulsion. They also expressed aversion for foreigners in general and demanded that European influence be purged from the country. Inoue believed that such people were acting contrary to the emperor’s intentions as enunciated in his Oath and worried lest such people block national progress and impede negotiations for treaty revision.

Another religious problem was deciding on the extent of government control of Shint
ō
and Buddhism. In 1872 the Ministry of Religious Instruction (
ky
ō
-bush
ō
) and moral instructors (
ky
ō
d
ō
shoku
) of Shint
ō
and Buddhism had been established, permitting the government to intervene directly in religious matters. Opposition to this system had developed, so the Ministry of Religious Instruction was abolished in 1877. Then the moral instructors were abolished in August 1884 and replaced with supervisors for each sect of both religions.
³²
This liberalization of control over religion did not meet with unanimous acclaim. Shint
ō
priests in
Ō
saka, Ky
ō
to, K
ō
be, and elsewhere were dismayed to learn that the moral instructors had been abolished. They were sure this would lead to the spread of Christianity and bring about irreparable harm. The evil might well culminate in acts of irreverence toward the shrines of the founder of the empire (Emperor Jimmu); in destruction of shrines; in disrespect for the ruler and in dishonor for parents; in diminished regard for the state; in contempt for the laws; in a complete change in the concepts of loyalty, filial piety, and fidelity to principles; and, finally, in a complete collapse within the hearts of people. Eighty-one Shint
ō
priests signed a document to this effect that was presented to Prime Minister Sanj
ō
Sanetomi, with a request for prompt action to halt Inoue’s proposal.

Late in October 1884 Emperor Meiji sent a message to King Kojong informing him that of the 500,000 yen that Japan had been awarded in indemnity by the Treaty of Chemulp’o, all but the 100,000 yen already paid by the Koreans would be returned. The emperor had previously advised cabinet members that with the objective of securing the peace throughout East Asia, it would be desirable to give Korea financial help. Kim Ok-kyun and Pak Yong-hyo, men dedicated to creating in Korea a strong and prosperous nation on the model of Japan, were now participating in the Korean government and making strenuous efforts to achieve national independence. However, the stringent financial situation made it impossible for the Koreans to progress. Accordingly, the emperor decided to send Takezoe Shin’ichir
ō
(1842–1917) as minister resident
³³
to communicate to the king of Korea the emperor’s decision to return the indemnity. The king expressed profound gratitude.

In the meantime, leaders of the progressive faction in Korea, convinced that China’s engagement in the war with France would prevent it from intervening in Korea, decided that the time had come to oust the corrupt government and replace it with one dedicated to the country’s modernization.
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The Japanese supported these men, saying it was essential to preserve Korea’s independence from China.

At the time there were two “parties” in Korea. The government was controlled by the Sadaedang (Serving the Great Party). It was pro-Chinese (China was the great power Korea served), opposed to major changes, and closely associated with Queen Min and her family. The Kaehwadang (Progressive Party)
³⁵
advocated Korean independence from China. It was led by men who had been impressed by the success of Japanese modernization. On November 4 leaders of the progressive faction met at the house of Pak Yong-hyo in Seoul. A member of the Japanese legation also attended. Various courses of action were considered, one of which was adopted: to stage a coup d’état on December 4, the day when the new post office was to open.

That evening Hong Yong-sik, recently appointed as postmaster general, gave a banquet at the post office. The dinner began at six, but about seven a fire alarm was sounded, interrupting the festivities. A house across the street was burning. A nephew of Queen Min went out to investigate the fire, only to be attacked with a sword by a man in Japanese clothes. The other guests, seeing what had happened, fled.
³⁶

Kim Ok-kyun and Pak Yong-hyo hurried to the Japanese legation to make sure that Japanese troops would help the progressives. The troops were in fact lined up and ready to attack. Kim Ok-kyun and the other progressives set out for the palace, which had been thrown into a state of confusion by explosions set off by their supporters in the palace compound. Kim and the others, entering the presence of the king, informed him that the Chinese were coming to capture him. The king did not believe this, but he was powerless to resist. Kim Okkyun asked the king to send for the Japanese minister requesting protection. He refused, but one of the rebels dashed off a note in the king’s name. The minister and the Japanese soldiers arrived shortly afterward.