Emperor of Japan

by Donald Keene

  There is no evidence as to how much Prince Mutsuhito knew of these developments. He was still only eleven years old and probably did not discuss political matters with his father. When Kōmei left for Iwashimizu, the prince (and the empress) saw him off and welcomed him back, but the prince was probably unaware what an ordeal the visit to Iwashimizu had been for his father. It is likely, however, that he knew something of the activities of Nakayama Tadamitsu, his youthful uncle.

  Tadamitsu was appointed as a jijū, or chamberlain, in 1858, at the age of thirteen. His main function as chamberlain was apparently to serve as the playmate of his nephew, Mutsuhito, seven years younger than himself. In the same year he became a chamberlain, Tadamitsu participated in the protest staged by eighty-eight nobles against the treaty of trade and amity with foreign powers signed by the shogunate. He was guided in his precocious advocacy of jōi by the teachings of such patriots as Takechi Zuisan (1829–1865), Kusaka Genzui (1840–1864), and Yoshimura Toratarō (1837–1863), men who would perish in the fighting of the last days of the shogunate.19

  The dominant figure in Tadamitsu’s education as a patriot was Tanaka Kawachinosuke (1815–1862), a retainer of the Nakayama family who had known Tadamitsu from childhood days. Like Tadamitsu’s other mentors, Tanaka was involved in the incident at the Terada-ya. He was arrested by Satsuma troops, and on the ship bearing him to captivity, he and his adopted son were stabbed to death and their bodies thrown into the Inland Sea. Perhaps the chief lesson Tanaka taught Tadamitsu was that loyalty, hitherto associated with particular domains, was more properly directed at the kokutai, the national essence, as embodied in the person of the emperor.

  On September 30, 1862, Tadamitsu visited Takechi Zuisan’s lodgings. He informed Takechi that he had decided that Iwakura Tomomi must be killed and that he needed Takechi’s help. His reasons for killing Iwakura were not stated, but Takechi’s diary mentions Tadamitsu’s belief that Iwakura planned to poison the emperor or at least to place a curse on him.20 Takechi told Tadamitsu to give up his plan, but Tadamitsu replied that once he had made up his mind to do something, he could not stop until he had accomplished it. Takechi, at a loss how to argue with someone in Tadamitsu’s overwrought state, agreed to discuss the plan with his associates. One of them, the extremist noble Anegakōji Kintomo, said he had heard that Tadamitsu often behaved in a wild and disorderly manner. He added that he was not sure whether or not Tadamitsu was really an “advocate of justice” who was upset over the times.20

  Takechi informed Sanjō Sanetomi of the plot, and the latter probably told Nakayama Tadayasu. Late that night Tadamitsu went to Takechi’s lodgings to say that he had been obliged to call off the attack. Apparently Tadayasu forbade Tadamitsu to take part in the plot. Tadamitsu threatened to commit suicide, to which Tadayasu replied, “If you are so intent on it, I don’t suppose you’ll stop, no matter what I say to stop you. But killing him, there’s no getting around it, would be a reckless act. You should first denounce his crimes to the appropriate official, and if that official refuses to look into the matter, you may take matters into your own hands. If you are unwilling to listen to reason, kill your father first.”21

  Faced with his father’s stern opposition, Tadamitsu had no choice but to give up his plan. But the next day, November 2, he summoned Takechi and told him, in a quick change of decision, that he had decided to kill the rogues that day after all and asked Takechi to get support from the Satsuma, Chōshū, and Tosa domains. Takechi respectfully listened to Tadamitsu and then went to the chancellor to warn him that unless Iwakura and the others were banished to some distant place, Tadamitsu would join with men from three domains to carry out “divine punishment.” Two days later, notes were thrown into the houses of three nobles—Iwakura, Chigusa Aribumi, and Koga Takemichi—warning that if they did not leave the city in two days, their heads would be exposed on the riverbed of the Kamo River, and punishment extended to their entire family. The threats, but also the prevailing jōi atmosphere in the Court Council, had the desired effect: Iwakura shaved his head and a few weeks later moved to exile in Iwakura Village, north of the capital. This did not end Tadamitsu’s obsession with killing Iwakura, whom he repeatedly blamed for every occurrence that displeased him.

  Tadamitsu, braving his father’s disapproval and seemingly indifferent to the likelihood that he would be disowned, continued his wild and precipitous activities even after he had succeeded in getting rid of Iwakura. Tadayasu naturally worried about his wayward son, whose whereabouts were unknown. In April 1863 he petitioned the court to relieve Tadamitsu of his office, stating his fear that extreme concern over the danger to the nation might have driven Tadamitsu out of his senses. He said he would continue to search for his son and, when he found him, would determine whether he was mad.

  For a time Tadamitsu took refuge in Chōshū, making sudden, disconcerting appearances only to vanish just as suddenly, making him less than a welcome visitor, even though his ties with the imperial family were an asset to the jōi cause. A letter sent on May 22, 1863, from Chōshū reported that on seeing the foreign ships and weapons that had been bought by the domain, which stood in the forefront of the jōi movement, Tadamitsu had been so enraged to think that foreign weapons were being used in the sacred cause that he urged the domain leaders to destroy them. They were unwilling to accept this suggestion, and the indignant Tadamitsu rode off to the port city of Shimonoseki.22

  In September 1863 the Tenchū-gumi (Divine Punishment Group) was organized by Yoshimura Toratarō and others, with Tadamitsu as the central figure. These loyalist fanatics were based in Yamato Province, where at first they enjoyed some success in burning government buildings and killing officials, but their revolt was crushed. Tadamitsu was assassinated in 1864 by a band of killers sent by the Chōshū domain.23

  Prince Mutsuhito was too young to be aware of the details of the jōi movement, but he probably knew something of Tadamitsu’s activities and perhaps also of the tenets that inspired him. Almost nothing is known about Meiji’s political views when he ascended the throne at the age of fifteen, but he seems not to have shared his father’s reverence for the institution of the shogunate. Perhaps Tadamitsu helped form the young prince’s conception of what rulership should mean in Japan. Tadamitsu’s behavior was so erratic that one can hardly imagine him systematically imparting to Meiji a political philosophy, but the example of a young noble risking his life in the attempt to overthrow a regime he hated, in the face of his father’s opposition and the weight of tradition, may have stirred the boy who would soon be emperor.

  Chapter 9

  On June 9, 1863, Tokugawa Iemochi reported to the throne that the foreigners would be expelled on June 24.1 Twice before he had set a date, but both times he had had to postpone action. It was doubtless with extreme reluctance that he settled on still another date. He was well aware how woefully inadequate Japanese military preparations would prove if the foreigners resisted eviction. But he had no choice: he was under constant pressure from the court, and he had promised when he was given the hand of Kazunomiya that he would carry out jōi.

  After learning of the court’s determination to expel the foreigners, the Chōshū domain had hastily erected fortifications along the coast. On the day set for jōi to commence, the domain demonstrated its eagerness to be the first to put jōi into practice by shelling some foreign ships. An American merchant ship anchored off the northern Kyūshū coast was the first victim. This action was followed a few weeks later by the shelling of a French and a Dutch warship as they passed through the Shimonoseki Straits. When word of these encounters reached the court, the emperor appointed the nobleman Ōgimachi Kintada as “supervisor of jōi” and sent him to Hagi with gifts for the daimyo of Chōshū and his son and a message praising them for their initiative in having led all the other domains in carrying out jōi.2 It was obvious that sooner or later, the foreign powers would retaliate for these attacks, but Kōmei had long since been resigned to the possibility of war.3

/>   The emperor’s confidence of victory in a war with the foreigners seemed confirmed by Satsuma’s successful resistance to the British soon afterward. The British had demanded reparations from both the shogunate and the Satsuma domain for the murder of Charles Richardson at Namamugi. The shogunate paid in May, but Satsuma had failed to respond. The British sent a fleet of seven warships that entered Kagoshima Bay on August 12, 1863, to demand that the daimyo Shimazu Mochihisa execute the men responsible for the Namamugi incident and pay indemnities to the families of those killed and wounded in the incident. The daimyo was given twenty-four hours to reply. The answer from the domain stated that the guilty persons had fled and could not be found. As for the indemnity, the domain could not pay without authorization from the shogunate.

  On August 15 at dawn, the British warships suddenly seized three steamships belonging to the domain. At noon the Satsuma batteries opened fire on the British fleet, and it was returned. The firing lasted until late in the afternoon. Many houses and temples in Kagoshima were destroyed by fire, and there were numerous casualties among the Satsuma forces; but the British also suffered considerable damage, and the fleet left without scoring a decisive victory. When Shimazu Mochihisa informed the court of his battle with the British, the emperor sent a message of congratulations.4

  The court responded enthusiastically to the news, and in anticipation of armed conflict with the foreigners, members of the imperial family and the nobility were commanded to wear swords when entering or leaving the palace precincts. This was a novel experience for them, for it had been centuries since members of the court took themselves seriously as potential combatants. The chancellor, Takatsukasa Sukehiro, asked the daimyos residing in Kyōto their opinions concerning the advisability of a jōi campaign personally led by the emperor. The daimyo of Tottori, Ikeda Yoshinori (1837–77), replied, “Yes, personal leadership by His Majesty would be desirable. But if His Majesty and the nobles have not the slightest knowledge of military matters, how can they possibly be successful? The daimyo of Aizu, Matsudaira Katamori, is now in Kyōto serving as the military governor, and there are other daimyos in Kyōto with their troops. They should be asked to drill their troops [in the vicinity of the palace], so that the nobles’ eyes will become familiar with the sight of soldiers and their ears with the roar of cannons. Only then will it be fitting to discuss personal command by His Majesty.”5

  Emperor Kōmei accordingly asked Matsudaira Katamori to have his soldiers drill outside the Kenshun Gate. It rained that day, but the emperor nevertheless watched the drill from an observation post at the gate. He was accompanied by the empress and the crown prince, as well as by many ladies of the court, nobles, and daimyos. Katamori personally led more than 3,000 troops in his command. The drill began about four in the afternoon. All the soldiers wore helmets and armor, but some units carried guns, while others brandished spears, bows, and other traditional arms. The soldiers blew conch horns, banged bells and drums, waved swords and spears, fired guns and bows, and occasionally emitted war cries. There was little suggestion of modern warfare.

  Another drill was held at the Kenshun Gate on September 17. This time, troops not only from Aizu but also the Tottori, Tokushima, Yonezawa, and Okayama domains participated. Once again Prince Mutsuhito observed. Troops of the Yonezawa domain armed with Western-style guns staged maneuvers. The chronicle of Meiji’s reign states,

  The roar of guns echoed to the heavens, and powder smoke obscured the sky. Boys and girls among the spectators turned pale with fright, but the prince tranquilly gazed on throughout with no change of expression. There had been no instance in modern times of an emperor personally watching the maneuvers, and it was absolutely unheard of for a prince of his tender years to accompany the emperor at such a time. Among the courtiers were those who said that it was a violation of time-honored custom for armed men to run about within the nine gates, even granting it was a drill, and that to play with weapons in the vicinity of the imperial sanctuary was a profanation of divine authority. Such were attitudes at the time.6

  On September 25 Kōmei announced his plan to visit the tomb of Emperor Jimmu and the Kasuga Shrine to pray for jōi. He planned also to go on to the Great Shrine of Ise for the same purpose. He revealed that he was considering taking personal command of the jōi forces. The jōi faction among the nobles, believing this would provide a good opportunity for a campaign against the shogunate, conferred with Chōshū samurai and shishi. Guessing this would happen, the kōbu gattai faction became highly disturbed and appealed to Prince Nakagawa for help in getting the emperor’s proposed journey to Yamato canceled. Prince Nakagawa went to the palace at dawn on the twenty-eighth to ask the emperor why he had decided to take the serious step of assuming personal command. Taken aback by this unexpected question, the emperor answered that he had not yet decided whether to assume personal command. He had long desired to worship at the tomb of Emperor Jimmu, but the rest of his statement had been intended to mollify Sanjō Sanetomi’s faction.7 It was clear to Prince Nakagawa that the emperor was being manipulated by advocates of jōi.

  That night, by command of the emperor, Prince Nakagawa conferred with the former chancellor Konoe Tadahiro and others of the kōbu gattai faction. They decided they would have to expel the nobles who had been plotting to “alter” the court, meaning by “alter” to disrupt the court’s traditional relations with the shogunate. Before dawn on the morning of the thirtieth, a meeting of the Court Council was held, attended by nobles and also the Kyōto military governor and the Kyōto deputy (shoshidai). The nine gates to the Gosho were bolted shut, and no one was allowed to enter except by personal command of the emperor. Soldiers of various domains were ordered to guard the gates. At four in the morning, blank shots were fired by cannons to signify that martial law had been put into effect. Hearing the noise, nobles of the jōi faction came rushing to the palace, but the gates were tightly shut and they were unable to get in.

  At this point Prince Nakagawa, in the presence of the emperor, read a message from the throne: “Ever since this spring it has not infrequently happened that the court spokesmen [gisō] and other officials have conspired with the Chōshū domain to misrepresent my commands. The matter of my taking personal command is the worst such instance. From now on Sanetomi and the rest are to cease attending court and to remain in seclusion in their homes.”8

  Sanjō Sanetomi and his confederates were relieved of their posts and replaced by such partisans of kōbu gattai as Nakayama Tadayasu and Ōgimachisanjō Sanenaru. A further edict stated that the emperor’s journey to Yamato had been called off and that although there had been no change in the policy of jōi, this was not an appropriate time for the emperor to assume personal command. The jōi faction quickly grasped that their hour of glory had ended; and when the Chōshū samurai left Kyōto to return to their province, seven nobles, including Sanjō Sanetomi, went with them.9 The kōbu gattai faction was now in control of the court.

  These momentous events ushered in a period of relative tranquillity at the court. On November 3 a birthday party was held for Prince Mutsuhito, modestly celebrated with an exchange of presents, mainly fish, followed by a smaller gathering at which Nakayama Tadayasu read a congratulatory message to Nakayama Yoshiko, his daughter and the mother of the crown prince. That day, in his own house, Tadayasu drank a toast to the long life and health of the prince. He nostalgically recalled the past when the prince lived in his home. The prince was now twelve years old (by Japanese count). The years that had passed had misted over like a dream, and the changes in the times had occurred in the twinkling of an eye. No doubt Tadayasu was thinking of the kaleidoscopic changes in his own situation at the court as first one faction and then another acquired control. Later that month Tadayasu’s wife, Aiko, had an audience with her grandson, the prince. It was the first time in seven years she had seen him, and she was moved to tears, recalling the past.

  On December 26 Mutsuhito’s companion Uramatsu Tarumitsu, having reached the age of fou
rteen, asked permission to bid farewell to boyhood days and wear the clothes and hair style appropriate to an adult. Permission was granted, and the occasion was celebrated with gifts from the emperor, the empress, and the prince, who (in addition to more practical gifts) gave his friend illustrated editions of traditional books of warfare and prodigies.10 The prince had colored in some of the illustrations and scribbled in some of the books, evidence that he had read them, perhaps as an escape from the Confucian texts he was forced to read.11

  The prince’s study of tanka continued, at first under the guidance of his father and later (from February 1864) under the court poets, Reizei Tametada (1824–1885) and Yanagihara Mitsunaru (1818–1885). Not knowing that the prince had already received instruction from his father (and occasionally from the court lady Hirohashi Shizuko), Tametada considered it his duty to inform the emperor that it was high time for the prince, now in his thirteenth year, to begin the study of tanka. The emperor was too busy at first to respond. On February 19 Tametada composed two poems explaining why he thought the prince’s tanka lessons should begin. The second was

  hajime yori There is no flower

  hana ni nioeru That has a flower’s fragrance

  hana wa nashi From the beginning:

  hana wa tsubomi no A flower starts becoming

  hana ni naritsutsu A flower while in the bud.

  In February 186412 the shogun Tokugawa Iemochi visited Kyōto by command of the emperor. Six days after he arrived at Nijō Castle (on February 22), the emperor appointed him as minister of the right and general of the right guards. Iemochi went to the palace to express his gratitude.