by Donald Keene
haru no hi ni On a day in spring
sora akebono ni When dawn is in the sky
kari kaeru The wild geese return;
koe zo kikoyuru Their voices can be heard—
nodoka ni zo naku How peacefully they cry!
Kōmei’s guidance was undoubtedly important in the only part of Meiji’s formal education that was specifically Japanese in content, a tradition established in the Heian past when emperors not only composed poetry but were well versed in the poetry of the past. Before long, Sachinomiya had become familiar with the poems in the standard collections. His literary preferences were otherwise confined to Japanese martial tales and accounts of Chinese heroes.14 His childhood companion Uramatsu Tarumitsu recalled that Sachinomiya often mentioned his admiration for the audacity of Toyotomi Hideyoshi or the loyalty of Kusunoki Masashige. At the time he seems to have been less interested in the deeds of his ancestors, perhaps because they were not martial enough to suit his tastes.
Sachinomiya’s education differed little in content from that of his father or, indeed, that of his ancestors of centuries earlier. Although the fear of Western intruders had come to obsess Kōmei, he did not consider it essential for his son to learn about the dangerous barbarians. Sachinomiya did not study the geography of the world or consider the advances in science achieved in the West. Only after the Meiji Restoration would his education become relevant to the world in which he lived.
In April 1860 it was decided that Sachinomiya would have his fukasogi. This ceremony, at which a child’s hair was trimmed, was usually performed between the ages of three and eight for both boys and girls, but in 1858, when Meiji was about to have his fukasogi, it was postponed because of the burning of the Sennyū-ji, a temple closely associated with the imperial family. Another ceremony, traditionally performed when a boy or girl was nine by Japanese count, was known as himo-naoshi or himo-toki; it marked the first time a child wore an adult’s sash in place of the cord that was used for children’s clothes. It was decided that Sachinomiya should have both ceremonies this year. The yin-yang diviners were consulted, and they settled on May 9 at ten o’clock in the morning for the fukasogi and ten days later for the himo-naoshi ceremonies.
The preparations for the fukasogi were elaborate. The emperor gave the prince innumerable articles of clothing, some to be worn at the ceremony, which are described in three closely printed pages of the official chronology.15 The himo-naoshi was a much simpler affair. These occasions served as a prelude to the far more important ceremony of August 16 when Sachinomiya was officially proclaimed as the heir to the throne. He would henceforth also be considered to be the “true child” of Kōmei’s consort, ranking at court immediately after her, and he would live in the same palace. The formal proclamation of Sachinomiya as prince of the blood and heir to the throne would be made in October.
On October 16 the doctor of letters Karahashi Ariteru (1827–1874), who had been commanded by Kōmei to prepare a suitable name for the prince as an adult, submitted three names—Kumihito, Fumihito, and Mutsuhito. On the following day, the emperor commanded that the names be shown to the chancellor, the minister of the left, and other dignitaries with the request that they choose the most appropriate.16
On November 11 Sachinomiya was proclaimed as the crown prince. On this occasion, his new name was revealed to the assembled nobles, inscribed by the emperor himself—Mutsuhito.17 This ceremony was followed by the drinking of toasts of congratulation, the singing of popular songs and nō, and the offering to the prince of numerous presents by the assemblage. The celebration at the court was followed the next month by congratulatory gifts from the shogun.
Once the excitement had died down, Mutsuhito was sent back to his studies. The empress, dissatisfied with his progress in calligraphy, commanded Nakayama Yoshiko to supervise his writing practice every day.18
These events, though they probably provided some moments of agreeable diversion for Emperor Kōmei, were overshadowed by the urgent business with which he was now confronted, the shogunate’s request for the hand of his sister, Kazunomiya, as the bride of the shogun Iemochi. Kazunomiya was the daughter of Emperor Ninkō, and she had been born in 1846, five months after his death. She and her half brother Kōmei seem to have been unusually close, which may account for the extreme reluctance displayed by both to accept a marriage proposal that was in some respects highly advantageous. The proposal, received from Edo on June 3, 1860, spoke of the marriage’s fostering the union of the nobility and the military (kōbu gattai), which was Kōmei’s avowed political stance. Relations between the court and the shogunate had been strained by the latter’s having signed treaties with five Western powers, and a marriage would do much to heal the rift.
A marriage of this nature had first been discussed in November 1858 during a conversation between Konoe Tadahiro, the minister of the left, and Sakai Tadaaki, the newly appointed shoshidai. Konoe believed that the marriage would benefit the nation but that Kazunomiya’s engagement to Prince Taruhito, arranged when she was five years old, ruled out the possibility of marriage with the shogun. Sakai, however, was unwilling to give up the plan. In the following year, he discussed the marriage with the chancellor and obtained the shogunate’s consent. Eventually, word of these negotiations reached Kōmei, who replied that it would not be possible to break the engagement with Prince Taruhito. He also mentioned Kazunomiya’s dread of going to Edo which, she supposed in her girlish innocence, was a den of foreign barbarians. Kōmei, feeling pity for his sister, refused to force her into a marriage that inspired such terror.19 He was, however, fully aware of the political advantages to be gained, and his refusal was no doubt tinged with regret.
That year Kazunomiya celebrated her sixteenth birthday by Japanese count. On July 15 she took part in the moon-viewing ceremony, which was the feminine counterpart of the gembuku boys underwent. There is something so innocently appealing in the description of Kazunomiya viewing the moon that it is not difficult to imagine Kōmei’s reluctance to lose his only sister.
For its part, the shogunate refused to give up plans for a marriage between the shogun and Kazunomiya. There were also proponents of the marriage at the court. When the emperor asked his opinion, Iwakura Tomomi, then a chamberlain, replied that it was obvious that the shogunate’s strength was waning. However, he continued, attempting to recoup imperial power with military force would surely lead to great disorder within the country and might invite foreign intervention. It would be better to consent to the marriage, demonstrating to the world that indeed the nobles and the military were united. In exchange, the shogunate should be obliged to abrogate gradually the treaties it had signed with foreign powers. If the shogunate could be persuaded to agree that henceforth all important matters of state would be submitted to the court for its approval before being put into effect, the shogunate’s authority would come to depend on the court. For this reason, he said, Kazunomiya was more valuable to the state than nine tripods of treasure. Iwakura advised accepting the request, providing the shogunate would swear to abrogate the treaties.20
On July 6 Kōmei sent a letter to the chancellor Kujō Hisatada concerning the marriage. The tone suggests that he had been affected by Iwakura’s advice. Describing his unhappiness over the shogunate’s signing treaties with barbarians, a development for which he had no excuse to offer the gods or his ancestors, he mentioned his reluctance to send Kazunomiya, the daughter of an emperor, to a part of Japan where foreigners roamed. However, if the shogunate would demonstrate its resolve to cast out the foreigners, he would attempt to persuade Kazunomiya to marry the shogun.21
The response from the shogunate was reassuring. In all matters it agreed with the emperor’s sentiments, and it fully intended to drive out the foreigners; but until the country was united and militarily strong, it was not possible to confront external problems. The first step was to display to the country the union of nobility and warriors. Once this was achieved, the next step would be to prepare the defenses of
the country against the foreigners. If the emperor permitted the marriage of the princess to the shogun and the resources of the country were in this way unified and strengthened, was it possible that the policy of the shogunate would differ from that of the emperor in its eagerness to drive out the foreigners?22 The shogunate promised to get rid of the foreigners in seven to ten years, either by negotiations that would lead to annulment of the treaties or by military force.23
These assurances had the effect of making Kōmei favor accepting the marriage proposal from Edo. On September 4 he asked the chancellor to get Kazunomiya’s mother and uncle to persuade her to accept the proposal.24 He also commanded him to arrange with Prince Taruhito for the annulment of the engagement.25 Kazunomiya, however, remained unmoved by their arguments, reiterating that she was desolate at the thought of leaving her brother. A week later Kōmei sent a letter to the chancellor reporting that Kazunomiya could not bear to go to Edo as a bride. He was unwilling to compel her to accept, but he also felt obliged to live up to his part of the agreement with the shogunate. He therefore suggested that in place of Kazunomiya, his only surviving daughter, Sumanomiya, might make an acceptable substitute, even though she was still only a year and a half old. Although he was fond of this infant, he was willing to part with her as a sign of his desire to secure a union between nobility and military. If the shogunate would not accept, he would have no choice but to abdicate.
A copy of Kōmei’s letter was shown to Kazunomiya who, on reading his offer to abdicate, was sure she would be unable to eat or sleep if she became the cause of her brother’s abdicating the throne. She therefore decided to accept his advice26 and go to Edo, providing five conditions were met. The first was that she not be required to leave for Edo until after the seventeenth anniversary of the death of her father, Emperor Ninkō, two years hence. She also wished to be able to return each year to Kyōto on the anniversary of Ninkō’s death, to pray at his tomb and to inquire after the emperor’s health. But the shogunate was unwilling to wait two years; it was eager to celebrate the marriage as soon as possible. Kazunomiya’s second condition was that she be able to live in Edo under exactly the same surroundings as in the Gosho. This was accepted by the shogunate. The remaining conditions concerned her choice of attendants.27
Kōmei sent a letter to the shogunate in which he listed six conditions of his own: (1) that Kazunomiya’s five conditions be accepted; (2) that even if there were a change in the senior councillors, the promise to break diplomatic relations with foreign countries would be maintained; (3) that it be made known throughout the country that the marriage was not forced on Kazunomiya in order to preserve the Tokugawa family but was arranged in the interests of promoting the union of nobility and military necessary for the country; (4) that means be found to take care of persons who had been impoverished as the result of opening trade with the foreigners; (5) that the treatment accorded to Kazunomiya once her marriage was settled on would be reported privately to the throne before any decision was made; and (6) that consideration be given to amends for Prince Arisugawa.28
Even after Kazunomiya had given her consent, some nobles still opposed the marriage. A rumor circulated at the court that the emperor’s intimate Koga Takemichi (1815–1903) had accepted bribes from the shogunate to expedite the marriage and that the courtiers Chigusa Aribumi and Iwakura Tomomi were his underlings. Kōmei got wind of this rumor and directed the chancellor to squelch it, for once he had agreed to the marriage, he was in no mood to tolerate any opposition.29
Finally Prince Taruhito was persuaded to abandon his suit for Kazunomiya’s hand. A rumor was deliberately circulated that he had been unenthusiastic about the marriage because Kazunomiya had been born in hinoeuma (the year of the fiery horse), an ill-omened year for women. Then it was discovered that the young shogun had been born in the same year, whereupon it was decided that a marriage between two people born in an otherwise unlucky year was extremely lucky.30
At this period the education of Mutsuhito and the matter of Kazunomiya’s marriage seem to have fully absorbed the court’s attention. but we should not forget that 1860 was also the year of the first Japanese mission sent to America. Even as the shogunate was promising to expel the foreigners in return for the hand of Kazunomiya, it was taking the irrevocable step of sending officials abroad for the first time since the country was closed more than 200 years earlier.
Chapter 7
The year 1861 was one of the two “revolutionary” years in the cycle of sixty when the nengō was invariably changed. But even if it had not been a “revolutionary” year, the stormy events of 1860 provided ample reason to change the nengō, and the new year had begun inauspiciously. A fox was observed in the palace garden, and Emperor Kōmei commanded Nakayama Tadayasu to have it exorcised; but prayers and offerings had no effect. Night after night the fox yelped directly under the prince’s quarters, until finally (at the empress’s suggestion) he moved to her pavilion.1
The country was in the grip of severe inflation. Word of the hardships that high prices had inflicted on the common people reached the ears of the emperor, who gave the shoshidai fifty pieces of gold, instructing him to use the money to alleviate suffering in the province of Yamashiro, the area around the capital. The shoshidai refused the money, obeying the order of the shogunate, which had other plans for providing assistance.2 The shogunate seems to have been reluctant to allow the emperor to become actively involved in relieving the distress of his subjects.
Japan’s relations with foreign countries were also strained. On March 13, 1861, the Russian corvette Posadnik under Captain Birilev cast anchor at the Tsushima Islands between Japan and Korea. Under pretext of making necessary repairs to the ship, Russian officers and men went ashore and soon erected barracks and other buildings, seemingly as a permanent encampment. The inhabitants of the islands and the Russians clashed, resulting in the deaths of several Japanese. The shogunate sent the magistrate for foreign affairs to Tsushima to demand that the Russians leave, but they refused.3
Russia was not the only European power to realize the strategic importance of Tsushima. The British had asked the shogunate to open a port there, and a warship had made soundings in nearby waters. This action gave the Russians the excuse to “protect” Tsushima from the British. They warned the shogunate of the threat of British occupation of the islands and, urging the need for adequate defenses, offered to build gun batteries and lend cannons to the Japanese.4 The shogunate rejected this proposal; but when the Russians had more or less occupied the islands, it had no choice but to turn for help in evicting them to Sir Rutherford Alcock, the British minister, following the principle of “using barbarians to fight barbarians.” Two British warships under Sir James Hope, commander of the East Indian Fleet, were sent to Tsushima. After receiving a severely phrased warning from Hope, the Russians withdrew from the islands.5
News of these developments, which in the past would probably have been kept from the emperor, soon reached Kōmei, causing him extreme distress; but it was not until the following year (1862) that he commanded the daimyo of Tsushima to strengthen Japan’s sea defenses.6 The emperor’s personal intervention in a matter that in the past would not have been brought to his attention suggests how greatly his authority had increased.
The change in the nengō from Mannen to Bunkyū took place on March 29, the day recommended by the yin-yang diviners. The change seemed at first beneficial. For a time, members of the court were again able to enjoy such traditional diversions as garden parties, performances of nō, and other entertainments. There were also sad occasions: the death of Kōmei’s infant daughter Sumanomiya was another instance of an imperial child whose life was cut short.
The period of respite at the court was brief: antiforeign sentiments were rising to a frenzied intensity even as the shogunate was seeking to promote better relations with European countries.7 On June 5 fourteen rōnin from Mito attacked the British legation in Edo. The minister, Sir Rutherford Alcock, escaped injury,
but members of his staff were wounded. Although the Mito domain remained in the forefront of the jōi movement, other domains were readier to reach an accommodation with the foreigners. Mōri Takachika, the daimyo of Hagi, sent Nagai Uta (1819–1863) to Kyōto and directed him to transmit his views on the necessity of opening the country and, in this way, achieving kōbu gattai. Nagai met with Ōgimachisanjō Sanenaru (1820–1909) and expressed his master’s strong conviction that a revision of the national policy was imperative.
Although Nagai delivered his long, rambling statement to Ōgimachisanjō, it was clearly intended for Emperor Kōmei. It opened with the (by now familiar) description of the sorry state of the Japanese military caused by the centuries of peace. Surely, it continued, the emperor must be enraged when he sees that the shogunate is not only powerless to resist the intrusion of the barbarians but ready to sign treaties of friendship and commerce without even consulting him. No doubt he is also disturbed when he realizes that he can no longer depend on the military to protect him. The shogunate has no firm policy with respect to the barbarians but contents itself with temporizing expedients. The emperor has not been kept fully informed of developments, but hotheads have gathered around the throne to call for the abrogation of the treaties with the foreign powers. If the treaties are broken, the foreign powers will surely not accept this peaceably but will initiate military action against Japan. Nagai added that he would not oppose fighting the foreigners if there were any chance of success, but he believed that it would be folly to risk national survival in a war that the Japanese could not hope to win.
For 300 years, he continued, the court in Kyōto has entrusted both internal political decisions and foreign policy to the shogunate. For this reason, the foreigners suppose that the shogunate is the government of Japan and, now that they have concluded treaties with the shogunate, imagine that Japan is their ally. If the treaties are abrogated, their wrath will lead immediately to war. The entire country will soon be in peril. For example, it would not take more than four or five foreign warships to blockade Kyūshū, and the rest of the country would suffer the consequences. It is uncertain whether Kyōto can be defended, and if the capital were defiled by the hooves of foreigners’ horses, the humiliation would affect all the other provinces, even those not directly under attack.
