by Donald Keene
Hawaii was only a small country, but even so, this crack in the wall of extraterritoriality was highly welcome to the Japanese. When informed of this action, the American minister approved of what had been done, but the instrument abrogating the old treaty was not executed, “owing to the strenuous remonstrances of the European governments.” It required another seventeen years before the humiliating clause was removed from all the treaties.11
On March 11 the king, at his request, had a private interview with the emperor. After refreshments were served, all the Japanese officials with the exception of Inoue Kaoru, who served as the interpreter, withdrew. Kalakaua stated that he planned to have his coronation in the following year. He asked that the emperor send a delegation, and Meiji consented.
Kalakaua moved then to a matter that demanded secrecy: “The purpose of my travels this time has been to promote something that has been on my mind for many years, a league of the countries of Asia. The European countries make it their policy to think only of themselves. They never consider what harm they may cause other countries or what difficulties they may cause other people. Their countries tend to work together and cooperate when it comes to strategy in dealing with the countries of the East. The countries of the Orient, on the other hand, are mutually isolated and do not help one another. They have no strategy for dealing with the European countries. This is one reason why the rights and benefits of the countries of the East are today in the hands of the European countries. Consequently, it is imperative for the countries of the East to form a league to maintain the status quo in the East, in this way opposing the European countries. The time for action has come.”
Meiji replied, “The general situation in Europe and Asia is indeed as you describe it. I share your opinion concerning a league of the countries of the East. But how can you be sure that the time for action is now?”
The king continued, “Up to the present the countries of the East have suffered under the oppression of every one of the European countries. I have come to realize that the time has arrived for us to act boldly. That is what I mean when I say now is the time to put this great plan into effect.”
The emperor asked, “I would like to know more about your plan.”
The king replied, “During my trip I intend to meet with the rulers of China, Siam, India, Persia, and other countries and to discuss with them the advantages and disadvantages of forming a league. However, my country is a tiny cluster of islands and its population is insignificant; it lacks the strength to carry out a great plan. Your country is exactly as I have heard—not only has your progress been truly astonishing, but the people are numerous and of a hardy disposition. That is why, if a league of the countries of Asia is to be initiated, Your Majesty must step forward and be its leader. I will serve Your Majesty as his vassal and devote my every energy to the cause. If Your Majesty becomes the head of the league and works to carry out its purpose, it will surely compel the European countries to abandon extraterritoriality. Just by chance, an exposition is to be held in New York in 1883. Your Majesty should take this opportunity to travel to America. You should also dispatch princes of the blood as secret envoys to the European countries and have them persuade the ruler of each country to meet in New York on the occasion of the exposition. If you directly address the rulers who attend the exposition on the urgent need to end extraterritoriality, this is certain to be effective. Then, after you return to your country, you should open an exposition to which the rulers of the countries of Asia and Europe are invited. In short, the end of extraterritoriality and the success or failure of the league of oriental countries depends on whether or not Your Majesty is willing to serve as head of the league.”
The emperor said, “I understand your point of view. However, a country like China is big and arrogant in its ways. Even if invited, it is most unlikely to join.”
The king replied, “It is too much to hope that the rulers of the countries of Asia will, without exception, join. However, I am certain that the king of Siam, the king of Persia, and various kings of India will attend. This will be enough to get the league started. But a plan of this nature is not to be perfected in two or three meetings. I should mention that the invitations you extend to the rulers of European countries to the exposition in your country will be in order to avoid offending them. Of course, you will discuss matters close to your heart only with the rulers of the Asian countries. If Your Majesty has, to my good fortune, accepted my words, I would like to ask Your Majesty to bestow on me his ring.”12
After some thought, the emperor responded, “I understand your views. However, the progress of my country is not what it may seem on the outside. There are many problems, especially with respect to China. The Chinese always consider that our country intends to commit aggression. It is difficult enough to maintain peaceful relations with China, and to do what you propose would be even more difficult. I will confer with my cabinet and after mature consideration give you my reply.”
The king accepted this decision, and the conversation ended after an hour and twenty minutes. As he was leaving, the king offered the emperor a photograph of himself and a book describing the political situation in Hawaii. He also presented a photograph of his queen to the empress.13
During his conversation with Meiji, the king brought up two other matters. First was the need for a underwater cable linking Japan and Hawaii in order to expand communication between the two countries. Finally, he earnestly asked that his niece Kaiulani (then five years old) be accepted as the bride of Prince Sadamaro.14 The king had been taken with Sadamaro, a sixteen-year-old student at the naval academy who had been in his escort, and decided he would make a good husband for his niece. Kalakaua, who had no children, had already decided that Kaiulani would be his successor. If his proposal had been accepted, the husband of the future queen of Hawaii would have been a Japanese. Kalakaua probably hoped this would protect Hawaii from annexation by the United States; conversely, the Japanese government may have feared that the marriage would antagonize not only America but the European powers. Answers to these two requests were not immediately forthcoming, but both were rejected in a letter sent to Kalakaua by Inoue Kaoru on February 10, 1882.15
Kalakaua was absolutely delighted with the reception he had received in Japan, far exceeding his expectations. Although he was a Christian, he was deeply impressed by the Buddhist temples, finding them much more to his taste than the austere New England–style churches built in Hawaii, and he told his chamberlain to look into the possibility of introducing Buddhism to Hawaii. He was disappointed only that the promised grand ball had to be canceled owing to the assassination of the czar of Russia, which required the Japanese imperial family to go into mourning.
According to Armstrong’s account, in which he did not hesitate to mock his master, Kalakaua was not a wise or even thoughtful man, and his attention was easily diverted. This is what makes his plan of a league of the countries of Asia so surprising: it suggests that he had greater political insight than anyone in Hawaii suspected. But like almost everything else he proposed while in Japan, Kalakaua’s plan was, in the end, rejected.16 It was obvious to Meiji that even if a league of Asian countries were formed, the Chinese would never consent to its being headed by a Japanese. And although it was easy to speak of Siam, India, and Persia in terms of their sharing an Asian heritage, their languages and customs were not related, and it would be difficult to find anything uniting them except resentment over the aggression of the occidental countries.17
On March 14 when Kalakaua was about to leave Tōkyō, he called on the emperor, who personally pinned on the king the Grand Order of the Chrysanthemum, the highest Japanese decoration. He also bestowed the usual farewell presents—cloisonné flower vases, brocade, lacquer boxes, embroidery, and so on. The empress sent two lengths of white silk crepe to the queen of Hawaii.18
King Kalakaua’s visit was certainly less important to Emperor Meiji than that of General Grant. Nothing ever came of Kalakaua’s plans
for a league of Asian nations, and the other proposals he made during his secret meeting with the emperor were soon forgotten. But in terms of Meiji’s development as a statesman, the meeting was of considerable significance. During his conversation with Grant, his utterances had been confined to brief, noncommittal remarks, but when answering Kalakaua, he spoke with assurance and revealed that he was informed about the conditions prevailing in eastern Asia. Perhaps his self-confidence owed something to his feelings of superiority to the ruler of a few small islands whose army numbered seventy-five men, but he treated Kalakaua with faultless courtesy. In contrast to the inarticulate boy of ten years earlier, Meiji had become an imposing figure who deeply impressed his visitors.
Meiji had two more royal visitors later in 1881, Prince Albert Victor and Prince George, the sons of the future Edward VII of England, who arrived in Yokohama on October 21 aboard HMS Bacchante. They went by train to Tōkyō and then by carriage to the Enryōkan, where they were to stay. The account of their stay in Japan states that their first visit was to Asakusa, where they went by jinrikisha. No doubt the two young men had heard reports of this pleasure quarter and wished to examine it for themselves. That night at dinner they were visited by Sanjō Sanetomi and Iwakura Tomomi, and the emperor sent his “private band” to play for them during the meal. Prince George’s reaction was: “The sounds that proceeded from the inner-room where these musicians were placed were so faint and plaintive that some of the party ignorantly mistook them for preparations of a band tuning up, and as it went on for some time inquired when they were going to begin to play.”19
The two princes called on the emperor the next day. They wrote about him, “Although he is not thirty years old … he has a much aged look about the face. He is self-possessed and evidently strenuously anxious, though not nervous, to play his part well.”20 Judging from this description, the emperor was much less at ease than he had been with King Kalakaua. Even though the princes were still very young—the older eighteen and the younger sixteen—they came from the most powerful country in the world, and the emperor may have felt it necessary to produce an impression of age.
The princes were obviously more attracted to the empress. George (later George V) wrote, “She is very small and would be very pretty if she was not painted up so according to Japanese fashion.” She attempted “in cheerful and genial manner” to begin a conversation. The older prince asked her to accept two wallabies that they had brought from Australia. “These were great pets with all aboard, as they went hopping and frisking and booming about at meal hours all over the decks, as wild as hawks.” The empress seemed pleased with the gift, and the wallabies were sent off the next day to the palace. It is hard to imagine the wallabies hopping and frisking about the palace. It is equally hard to imagine George V, whose grave, bearded face became familiar to stamp collectors during the quarter century of his reign, asking a Japanese tattooer to decorate his arms: “He does a large dragon in blue and red writhing all down the arm in about three hours.”21
On October 31 the princes invited the emperor to lunch aboard the Bacchante. Accompanied by three princes of the blood, Iwakura Tomomi, Inoue Kaoru, and various other dignitaries, the emperor went to the ship, greeted by salutes from the Kanagawa gun batteries and the vessels, both Japanese and foreign, in the harbor. He was treated aboard ship to an exhibition of torpedo firing.22 The English princes sailed for Kōbe the next day and subsequently spent more than a week sightseeing in Kyōto, Nara, Ōsaka, and elsewhere in the Kansai region.
Earlier, on July 31, the emperor set out on another imperial tour, this time to Yamagata, Akita, and Hokkaidō. Some 420 men were to accompany him on his progress, but because of the inadequate lodgings en route, the number was reduced to 350.23 The journey was comparatively uneventful, though the summer heat was broiling. The emperor often spent the night at elementary classes, in part because they were big enough to accommodate his large party, and also because this confirmed his abiding interest in education.24 As usual, he visited classes wherever he went. He was surely pleased when in Tsuruoka a middle-school honor student gave a talk on the Chinese classic Tso Chuan, followed by an elementary-school pupil who discussed Nihon shiryaku.25 Word seems to have spread that the emperor did not like to hear pupils delivering talks on ancient Rome.
Despite the extreme heat, there were splendid views to admire, displays of local products and antiques, and crowds lining the roads along which the emperor’s carriage or palanquin passed. The junkō to the north was marked by one new feature, the marked improvement in communications. News reached the emperor not only from other parts of Japan but from the entire world. He was kept informed by telegraph, for example, of the illness and death of his aunt, Princess Sumiko, in Kyōto. He also learned almost immediately of the death of President James A. Garfield on September 19; two days later, he sent a telegram of condolence to Garfield’s successor, Chester Alan Arthur.
The most important news the emperor received during the journey, however, related to a scandal that broke at this time. On August 21 Prince Yoshiaki, greatly upset over the public outcry aroused by revelations concerning the sale of properties belonging to the Hokkaidō Development Office, sent a letter to Prince Taruhito, who was then with the emperor in Saitama Prefecture, summarizing the situation. He stated that Kuroda Kiyotaka, the director of the Development Office, had been angered by the sudden announcement that Hokkaidō would become a prefecture. He told various high-ranking officials that the present development of Hokkaidō had been entirely due to his efforts and that the proper thing would have been to allow him to make decisions concerning the end of the office and the creation of a prefecture. He said that if this advice was accepted, he would at once announce support for ending the office. The officials consented. Thereupon Kuroda asked permission to sell properties of the Development Office to a samurai of the former Satsuma domain named Godai Tomoatsu (1834–1885), who while serving in the office, had founded a trading company in Ōsaka.26
The cabinet did not immediately approve Kuroda’s request, arguing that in view of the emperor’s forthcoming visit to Hokkaidō, a decision should be postponed until he had visited the site. The decision enraged Kuroda, who screamed imprecations at a certain high-ranking official, threw a candlestick at him, and completely lost control of himself.
On the day of his departure on the junkō to the north, the emperor had consented to the planned sale in accordance with the decision made in the previous year to sell factories, mines, and other governmental properties to private entrepreneurs. When, however, details of the plan—assets worth about 3 million yen were to be sold for 300,000 yen, payable in thirty years without interest—became known, there was a great outcry from the newspapers and advocates of people’s rights. The fact that both Kuroda and Godai were from Satsuma made the proposed sale seem all the more suspicious.
Prince Yoshiaki, believing that he could no longer keep silent, decided to ask for an audience with the emperor while he was still on his junkō. He sent for Sasaki Takayuki and Hijikata Hisamoto (1833–1918), an official of the Interior Ministry, and asked them to accompany him. He said that he had never expressed political views to the emperor and was afraid that he would not be able to convince him. He was sure he would have a better chance of success if they, two men trusted by the emperor, accompanied him. But they thought it better that they not go. They believed that the emperor detested artifice and that the prince’s best plan was to report the truth straightforwardly.27 Yoshiaki, accepting this judgment, went to Saitama and informed the emperor.
But perhaps the emperor knew already. According to the newspapers, he had learned a month earlier (while in Hokkaidō) of the public’s reaction to the proposed sale from a Household Ministry official who traveled all the way to Hakodate to inform him of the commotion that the sale had aroused. The emperor was also said to have read a newspaper article reporting that Satsuma politicians had joined forces to get rid of a certain councillor. He correctly guessed that the in
tended victim was Ōkuma.
Meiji returned to the Akasaka Temporary Palace on October 11. He sent for Motoda Nagazane, who urged him to dismiss Ōkuma immediately. He said that Ōkuma’s recommendation that a parliament be immediately convened had aroused conflicting emotions and seemed likely to lead to disaster. The emperor hesitated to act. He asked if it was not true that the Satsuma councillors had banded together to get rid of Ōkuma. He also asked for proof that Ōkuma had conspired to do wrong. He was informed that although proof was difficult, evidence had been obtained from disciples of Fukuzawa Yukichi (1834–1901). It was alleged that Ōkuma, Fukuzawa, and Iwasaki Yatarō (1834–1885)28 had joined in a conspiracy. Motoda insisted that not only the Satsuma councillors but all the rest were outraged by Ōkuma. He predicted that if the emperor ceased to trust the Satsuma councillors, the cabinet would be destroyed. The emperor yielded but commanded that Ōkuma should not be compelled to resign without being given an explanation.
Itō Hirobumi and Saigō Tsugumichi were delegated to go to Ōkuma and persuade him to resign. Ōkuma agreed without hesitation. In return, the emperor on October 12 directed Sanjō Sanetomi to withdraw permission for the sale of government properties. The government announced that Ōkuma had resigned because of a recurrent attack of rheumatism that made it impossible for him to carry out his political duties. Other politicians associated with Ōkuma also resigned.29 The Satsuma and Chōshū cliques in the cabinet, which for some years had been on bad terms, had united in face of the threat from an outsider (Ōkuma was from Saga). But in order to mollify Ōkuma’s supporters, it was officially announced that the promised parliament would convene in 1890, rather too soon for the advocates of gradualism.
