Emperor of Japan

by Donald Keene

  The young emperor’s studies, typifying what people of the time supposed to be orthodox Confucianism, consisted of reading canonical works of Chinese thought, along with a few works of Japanese history. Six lectures on the Analects and six on the Records of Japan were delivered in his presence each month. Somewhat later the curriculum was expanded to include (among Japanese works) Kitabatake Chikafusa’s Jinnō shōtōki,8 as well as others of the Four Books of Confucianism. As yet no attempt was made by his mentors to acquaint Meiji with the geography or history of the world, let alone science.

  The one concession to the modern age made by his tutors at this time was to permit Meiji to ride horseback six times a month. His interest in riding had been awakened two years earlier when he rode a horse for the first time, and in the following year he had many occasions to witness displays of horsemanship. Kido Takayoshi, who became one of the emperor’s rare friends, related in his diary how the emperor had rolled up the bamboo screen of his royal box and commanded Kido to ride at the Grand Equestrian Review. Kido rode so brilliantly that the emperor placed a flowering branch on his tray of food and cakes and gave him so much saké that Kido became intoxicated.9 Before long, horsemanship became an obsession with the emperor—to the distress of some members of the court, who thought he should spend more time reading books and less time on horses.10 Such activities of the young emperor strikingly contrasted with the sedentary life led by his father, who not only never rode a horse but virtually never left the Gosho; they may also account for Meiji’s closeness to the samurai class, the repository of Japanese martial traditions.

  On February 25, 1869, the emperor attended a display of riding, and he himself, dressed in white with crimson trousers, mounted a horse. The other riders included not only daimyos (whose education had naturally emphasized martial sports) but members of the aristocracy, including Sanjō Sanetomi and Meiji’s grandfather, Nakayama Tadayasu. Originally the emperor had been encouraged to ride in order to free him from the debilitating effects of having been raised mainly by women; now the passion he had developed for riding was communicated to those around him. He esteemed men to the degree that they demonstrated ability in the saddle.

  The emperor’s education was a matter of great concern to the men serving him. Kido’s diary reveals again and again his particular anxieties, especially in the following decade. Iwakura Tomomi was also aware of the necessity of surrounding the young emperor with the proper advisers. On March 5, 1869, he sent a memorandum to Sanjō Sanetomi in which he stressed the importance of cultivating kuntoku, the virtue of the ruler. “Now, at the beginning of the renovation of imperial rule, the emperor is not rich with years, and for this reason he should not be without guidance for even a single day.”11 Iwakura recommended that persons be selected from among the nobility, the daimyos, and the senior samurai for their sincerity and strict morals, their ability and lofty purpose, or for their knowledge of Japan, China, and the West. Iwakura stressed that the emperor was intelligent and possessed of outstanding virtue and that once he had grasped the essentials, the government would have the man it needed.

  At first there were few concrete proposals. In 1871 the emperor’s study schedule was changed to include some materials relating to modern times. A program was drawn up for each ten days of instruction. On four of the ten days the emperor was lectured on “Success Stories from the West,” the Japanese translation of Samuel Smiles’s Self-Help, published only a few months earlier. It must have been startling for a young man—whose knowledge of books had been confined mainly to Confucian texts and accounts of the divine descent of the Japanese emperors—to read descriptions of men like Benjamin Franklin who had been able, thanks to their native intelligence and hard work, to overcome the barriers of poverty and class. The emperor was also expected to study German every day,12 but before long it was decided that the press of official business was too great to permit him to continue these lessons.

  Despite the introduction of the new, imported learning, the old-style culture still prevailed at the court. On February 21 the first concert of the reign was held in the palace, attended by the emperor and empress. All the performers were members of the court: the shō was played by eight nobles, including the former minister of the left; the hichiriki, by six nobles; the flute, by another six nobles, including the emperor’s grandfather, Nakayama Tadayasu; the biwa, by three nobles; and the koto, by five other nobles. The ability to play one of the musical instruments used in gagaku was prized at the court, just as it had been in the Heian period.

  Meiji does not seem to have studied any musical instrument, but from early childhood he had composed tanka under his father’s guidance, and he retained this avocation during the rest of his life. On February 19 Meiji attended the first poetry gathering (utagokai) of his reign. The emperor’s poem was on the topic “Spring Breezes Cross over the Sea”:

  chiyo yorozu An indication

  kawaranu haru no Of spring, unchanging a thousand,

  shirushi tote Ten thousand ages:

  umibe wo tsutau How gentle are the breezes

  kaze zo nodokeki Blowing along the seacoast!

  The empress’s poem on the same topic was

  oki tsu nami The waves offshore are

  kasumi ni komete Swathed in mist and above the sea

  haru kinu to In all directions

  kaze mo nagitaru The wind has now abated,

  yomo no umizura Telling us that spring has come.13

  There is little or no individuality in these poems; they express pleasure over the arrival of spring in exactly the same manner as had innumerable court poets of the preceding millennium. No attempt was made to surprise with the language or images, because composing these metrically exact poems was above all a demonstration of familiarity with the court culture.

  Another aspect of court tradition can be detected in the laconic announcement on March 20 that Natsuko, the daughter of Acting Major Counselor Hashimoto Saneakira, had been appointed as lady-in-waiting (tenji). On the following day the emperor granted her an audience and bestowed on her a cup of saké.14 The saké was followed by gifts of silken cloth. The girl was only twelve, too young to become a concubine of the emperor, but three and a half years later, on November 12, 1873, she gave birth to a daughter by the emperor and died the same day.

  Although the marriage of the emperor and empress was happy, they seem to have recognized early that she was barren. Even if the emperor had been reluctant to share his bed with another woman, he had the duty of providing an heir to the throne; and from about this time, he spent his nights with carefully selected women of the high nobility in the hopes that one or more of them would conceive. The women were mainly girls in their teens (Hashimoto Natsuko was fifteen at the time of her death) and, though of impeccable ancestry, were poorly educated. Indeed, their sole ambition was to give birth to an imperial child. Fierce rivalries developed among these women for the emperor’s attentions. However, even if a woman was fortunate enough to bear the emperor’s child, she was unlikely to know the joys of motherhood, as the baby would be taken away from her and officially treated as the child of the empress. All the same, as we know from the example of Nakayama Yoshiko, Meiji’s mother, the mother of an imperial child received superior court rank and other marks of favor. Even if her child died, she continued to live in comfort, lonely though her life might be.15

  Meiji had fifteen children by five women, inconspicuous figures at the court who in surviving photographs look almost identical in their rigid hairdos and formal court robes. It is difficult to say if the emperor had any favorites, although two (Sono Sachiko and Ogura Fumiko) served him much longer than the others. Sono gave birth to eight of Meiji’s children, four of whom survived. In Europe the illegitimate children of kings were not eligible to succeed to the throne, but according to Japan’s different traditions, no distinction was made between children born to the empress and those who came into the world from the “borrowed” womb of another lady.

  The
re has long been gossip about Meiji’s love life, and even today some people proudly insist that they are illegitimate descendants. Extremely little evidence supports such claims.16 Gossip has it that the emperor was often attracted by pretty geishas and commanded them to share his bed that night. This may actually have happened, but nothing written by the men who knew the young emperor personally confirms this supposition. Meiji was always provided with a half-dozen young ladies of the aristocracy who were his concubines. Those who displeased him were easily replaced; he had no need to look elsewhere.

  It is easy to imagine that a young man, still not twenty, who was under pressure to beget children, the sooner the better, might throw himself into physical pleasures to the detriment of his studies. Kido’s diary, especially from 1874, frequently mentions that the emperor’s education was at a standstill, implying that his mind was on other matters. That year, at the request of the imperial tutors, Kido urged the emperor to demonstrate by devotion to his studies that he was worthy of his divine lineage. Perhaps this was an indirect way of advising him not to spend too much time with his ladies.

  Although by this time a fairly comprehensive plan for the emperor’s education had been drawn up, including not only the classics of Chinese philosophy and Japanese history but also European history and the German language, the emperor’s progress was slow. Kido reported in his diary after a meeting with Fukuba Bisei, who lectured on Japanese history, and Katō Hiroyuki (1836–1916), who lectured on German law,

  They are anxious about the emperor’s progress in his studies; so, taking advantage of my service with the imperial household, they asked me to make certain that his study schedule is better organized, and to assist him in directing more serious attention to his books. I gave them my opinions, and all agreed; therefore, I have decided to report our findings directly to the throne.17

  Kido apparently felt emboldened by the affability the emperor had always shown him to recommend that he exert himself even more than before to “fulfill his divinely appointed task.” A year later Kido bluntly told the emperor that “unless he concentrates his efforts on fulfilling his divinely appointed task, we, his humble subjects shall have no end of worry.”18

  A prime source of concern was the emperor’s indulgence in drinking. Kido described how, after a performance of kyōgen at the house of Nakayama Tadayasu, some of those present feared the emperor might go “too far in his merriment” at the drinking bout that followed.19 Many of those who served the emperor, including the chamberlain Takashima Tomonosuke (1844–1916), attested to his capacity for liquor. Takashima recalled that no matter how heavily the emperor might have been drinking the night before, the next morning he never showed the slightest sign of a hangover. Not only had the emperor an exceptionally strong constitution, but he seems to have required less sleep than an average man. When he awoke, even after only four or five hours of sleep, he would go promptly to his office, ready for work. Takashima mentioned with admiration,

  His diligence was extraordinary. Every morning he would rise early and go to his office, not retiring to his private quarters until five or six in the afternoon. Sometimes he did not leave even then but would command, “This evening let’s have a party in my office.” He would talk for hours, until late at night. Then, when it was time for His Majesty to go to bed, people would at once bring bedding from the back palace. It was by no means unusual for us chamberlains to spend the night in the corridors on night duty.20

  The empress worried about her husband’s drinking. That interpretation has been given to her poem:

  hana no haru I hope you will observe

  momiji no aki no Moderation when drinking

  sakazuki mo From your saké cup

  hodohodo ni koso Amidst the springtime flowers

  kumamahoshikere Or the crimson autumn leaves.21

  The empress seems to have mentioned springtime flowers and colored autumn leaves because these were (and still are) the seasons when the largest quantities of saké are consumed.

  During his youthful years, Meiji drank Japanese saké by preference, but in later years he switched to French wine and champagne. His capacity for drink was exceptional, but he was not always able to hold it. Hinonishi Sukehiro, who served the emperor as a chamberlain from 1886, recalled that Meiji drank two bottles of champagne at one sitting. When he drank that heavily, he had trouble walking, so the chamberlains did everything they could to restrict the amount of champagne he imbibed.22 The emperor never left the dinner table as long as there was anything left to drink. Normally, he would retire to his private quarters by eleven at night, but anecdotes relate how he sometimes drank until very late at night.

  Yet as all sources agree, he went early every morning to his office to conduct business of the day. Although he may at times have neglected his studies, to the disappointment of Kido and others of his advisers, his strong sense of duty never permitted him to neglect state business. His profound awareness of what it meant to be the emperor of Japan deeply impressed foreign commentators, who compared him favorably with the reigning monarchs of Europe. Charles Lanman, writing in 1882, was typical in his praise:

  Unlike many of the princes and royal personages of Europe, he is not addicted to self-indulgence, but takes delight in cultivating his mind; sparing no pains nor personal inconvenience to acquire knowledge. Although still young he frequently presides at the meetings of his Privy Councillors, … He often visits his executive departments, and attends at all the public services where the Imperial presence is desirable. While prosecuting his literary as well as scientific pursuits, he subjects himself to the strictest rules, having certain hours for special studies, to which he rigidly conforms. In his character he is said to be sagacious, determined, progressive and aspiring; and from the beginning of his reign he has carefully surrounded himself with the wisest statesmen in his Empire, and these have naturally assisted in his own development; so that it is almost certain that the crown of Japan has been worn in this century by one who was worthy of the great honor.23

  Lanman went on to commend Meiji for “his zealous aspirations, almost free from prejudices, to adopt from other nations all that he deems beneficial for the promotion of the national welfare” and declared that he bore a striking resemblance to Peter the Great. Kido might have found such praise excessive, but anyone acquainted with the foibles of European royalty was likely to admire Meiji’s dedication to his office.

  Japanese found other aspects of Meiji’s character to praise. His simplicity and avoidance of extravagance and display were often mentioned. One chamberlain recalled that the writing brush he used was worn away at the end and that he used sticks of ink to the last morsel, grinding the ink himself. Year after year he wore the same old-fashioned uniform, decorated with “frogs,” long after everyone else had shifted to more modern uniforms. The uniform was often mended. When his shoes became old and loose, the chamberlains bought him new ones, but he commanded them to repair the old ones. The emperor was aware that it sometimes cost more to repair old clothes and shoes than to replace them with new ones, but he consistently followed the principle: “If something can be repaired and used again, it should be repaired.”24 Many memorialists commented on the dustiness of the curtains in the palace and on the blackened condition of the shōji, the results of Meiji’s insistence on thrift (and on the use of candles rather than electricity).

  Although none of his tutors described Meiji as scholarly, Takatsuji Osanaga (1840–1921) recalled that he listened to lectures with rapt attention and that whenever he did not understand something, he would ask questions until the meaning was perfectly clear.25 Katō Hiroyuki delivered lectures on constitutional and international law each week before the emperor, but unfortunately, the emperor’s obligation to deal with state business took precedence over his lessons, and he fell behind the schedule Katō had set. Accordingly,

  it was arranged to increase by one hour each day the time of his study, and for him to be in his office every day at seven in the
morning in summer and half-past eight in winter. His Majesty’s diligence was truly inspiring. He rose every morning at five and was waiting in his office when the tutors arrived.26

  Katō made extract translations from Western books concerning constitutions; the division of powers into legislative, executive, and judiciary; the system of self-government of cities, towns, and villages; and the history of constitutions in Europe from the end of the eighteenth century to the middle of the nineteenth century. At first he used as his teaching materials his translations of various German authorities, especially Johann Bluntschli, but he feared that if the emperor depended exclusively on translations, he would not acquire a real understanding. Katō therefore decided to switch to reading texts in the original German, but it soon became evident that the emperor had no time (and perhaps no aptitude) for learning a foreign language. But, Katō insisted, he was a diligent pupil:

  His late Majesty was by nature extremely thorough and steady. He seemed unwilling ever to stop halfway; he refused to stop until he had understood to his own satisfaction the basics. If, for example, I stated something one day which he did not understand, he would ask questions the next day until he fully understood. Progress was slow, but once he had grasped something, he never forgot it and would always make full use of it. This ability always made me marvel. As an educator, I have come in contact with many students over the years, but I have never encountered anyone like His Majesty who, though there was never an examination, would apply himself to his studies in this way entirely for the sake of mental training.27