Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (143 page)

Yi Sang-sol was allowed on July 5 to present the Korean petition to the conference. His address so moved the delegates that they decided to send a telegram to Seoul to verify that the delegation actually represented the views of the Korean government, but the service was controlled by the Japanese and the telegram fell into the hands of It
ō
Hirobumi. He went to the palace and confronted the emperor with the telegram. It
ō
demanded how Kojong could have violated the treaty so flagrantly. Rather than reject Japan’s protection, he might better have declared war. The chagrined emperor replied in a low voice that he knew nothing about it. This avowal was all It
ō
needed: he sent a reply to the effect that the Korean government had not authorized the delegation. On the motion of the British delegate (loyal to the Anglo-Japanese Alliance), the Korean appeal was rejected.
⁴⁵

The Japanese government could not allow the emperor’s action to pass unpunished. It
ō
, accompanied by Hayashi Gonsuke, the Japanese foreign minister, called on Emperor Kojong on July 18 and demanded that he abdicate. He refused but, bowing to intense pressure, agreed late that night that the crown prince might serve as his regent. Kojong’s refusal to abdicate was ignored by the Japanese, who announced that the feeble-minded Sunjong had succeeded to the throne.
⁴⁶
On July 21 Emperor Meiji sent his congratulations, but despite his promise to maintain the security and dignity of the Korean monarchy, the dynasty was in its death throes.

Chapter 57

The Japanese victory in the Russo-Japanese War gave rise to powerful repercussions in many parts of the world. As the first military victory of an Asian country over a European power in modern times, it captured the imagination of people living in Asian and African countries that were under the yoke of a European conqueror.
¹
Within Japan itself, however, the wartime exhilaration and sense of triumph stemming from the defeat of a powerful enemy rapidly faded. Even during the war, some intellectuals had expressed doubts about the necessity of fighting Russia. In August 1904 Arishima Takeo wrote in his diary, even as Japanese troops were pressing in on Port Arthur, “They spend an average of 500,000 dollars a day on war expenses. Is this not to be wondered at? They could build a splendid university with the money saved from two days of war. I don’t know whether or not the present war is necessary. But war is unnecessary.”
²

Ishikawa Takuboku, who at the outset of hostilities with Russia had burned with enthusiasm for the war, wrote in his diary in December 1906, “When I teach my pupils that Russia, which lost the war is a finer country than Japan which won it, I wonder what kind of human beings I am trying to create.”
³
Takuboku did not explain why he had taught his pupils that Russia was superior to Japan; perhaps he was indirectly expressing the disillusion that he and other Japanese intellectuals felt when they realized that the acclaimed wartime victories had been hollow. The Japanese had paid a very heavy price for the meager territorial acquisitions, and the threat from Russia was by no means ended. The satisfaction of having gained recognition as a power, thanks to the victory, did not compensate for the terrible loss of Japanese lives during the battles at Port Arthur and Mukden.

Emperor Meiji composed poems during the war, most of them lacking in the kind of fervor typical of European wartime poems. One of his best-known
tanka
, said to have been admired by President Theodore Roosevelt,
⁴
even expressed puzzlement (real or feigned) over why there should be such things as wars:

Another poem described the effects of the war on those at home:

Meiji’s poems by no means expressed jubilation even after the naval victory in the Tsushima Strait or the army victory at Mukden. Foreign monarchs acclaimed these successes as being unparalleled in world history, but he soberly commented:

Years later, when General Nogi committed suicide in 1912 following Emperor Meiji’s death, the overwhelming majority of Japanese believed that he had been moved by remorse over the tens of thousands of the men who had died in the repeated all-out attacks he had ordered during the battle for Port Arthur.
⁸
At the time of the victory celebration in T
ō
ky
ō
in January 1906, Nogi wrote a
kanshi
expressing shame, not exultation, over Japan’s success:

ō
shi hyakuman ky
ō
ryo wo sei su

k
ō
j
ō
yasen shikabane yama wo nasu

hazu ware nan no kambase atte fur
ō
ni kan sen

gaika konnichi ikunin ka kaeru
⁹

Imperial troops, a million strong, conquered the

arrogant enemy;

But siege and field warfare left a mountain of corpses.

Ashamed, what face can I show to old parents?

How many men have returned this day of triumphal song?

The celebrated poem by Yosano Akiko, “Kimi shinitamau koto nakare” (Do Not Die, My Brother), is often praised as an expression of antiwar sentiment, although in its day it was attacked for this very reason. In fact, Akiko, who was not a pacifist and insisted on her family’s tradition of loyalty to the throne, intended to convey in the poem not pacifist convictions but fears for the safety of a brother about to leave for the front in China. Even if the poem actually had no political overtones, one can hardly imagine a similar poem being published during the Sino-Japanese War (a relatively easy campaign with few casualties), let alone during the Pacific War (when the press operated under totalitarian controls that allowed no deviation from state policy).

The naturalist movement in literature, a literature of disillusion, developed immediately after the Russo-Japanese War. A typical example of naturalist fiction, Tayama Katai’s story “Ippeisotsu” (One Soldier), based in part on his experiences as a war correspondent in China, was considered to be so antimilitaristic that for years it could be printed only with passages excised.

The generation that grew to maturity during the years after the Russo-Japanese War seemed to be alienated. This alienation often began with shock at the wartime casualties and disappointment over the results of the war but later took such forms as socialism in politics. This in turn caused the older generation to express gloom over the loss by the young of their traditions. Yamazaki Masakazu characterized the times as “the morose era.”

Oka Yoshitake wrote of the same period, “Some youths were swallowed up by scepticism and despair in the course of their search for meaning in life. In fact, that tendency had showed signs of emerging even before the Russo-Japanese war, but it became much more apparent following the cessation of hostilities.”
¹⁰

One might suppose that victory in the war and the admiration voiced abroad would have made the Japanese self-confident, if not proud, but critics of the time worried about the “anxious pessimism” that had become fashionable among young men and women.
¹¹
This pessimism, ironically, may have contributed to the extraordinary flourishing of literature during the ten years after the conclusion of the Russo-Japanese War.

On the whole, 1906 was an uneventful year for the emperor, now in his fifty-fifth year. In January he commanded Saionji Kinmochi to form a cabinet after Katsura Tar
ō
resigned. It probably pleased the emperor to have a member of the nobility as prime minister, for in recent years the nobles had played a minor role in the government.

At the end of January a delegation of members of the Chinese imperial family visited T
ō
ky
ō
. At their audience with the emperor, the chief of the delegation, Prince Tsai Tse, informed him that they had been sent by the Chinese emperor to study the Japanese political system. He declared that the emperor’s martial glory and civic virtues shone throughout the five continents and that he and his colleagues had been deeply impressed by the manner in which politics and education in Japan were daily being perfected. Prince Tsai Tse hoped that the emperor would recognize their sincerity and, displaying his compassion, enable them to study the excellent technology and other praiseworthy features of Japan. They intended to make Japanese civilization a model for China, hoping in this way to ensure the future security of East Asia and to promote the happiness of the people.
¹²

Of course, these compliments can be discounted as mere flattery, but it is nonetheless true that a Chinese prince had addressed the Japanese emperor in terms that would have been inconceivable at any previous time during the long relationship between the two countries. Meiji seems to have been pleased: he offered the prince a chair, something he rarely did to visitors.
¹³
He also invited the Chinese delegation to lunch and later sent the chief chamberlain to the Shiba Detached Palace (where the Chinese were staying) with decorations for the visitors and other gifts.
¹⁴
The delegation, a small-scale Chinese replica of the Iwakura mission, after inspecting facilities in Japan and studying the Japanese constitution, left for America (and Europe) on February 13. The Chinese government genuinely seemed eager to modernize, and although other countries were also studied, Japan offered the examples most easily adopted by the Chinese.

Later that month, a delegation arrived from Korea, headed by a high-ranking officer, Yi Chae-wan. He brought with him a letter from Emperor Kojong thanking Emperor Meiji for having sent It
ō
Hirobumi to Korea. There were lavish gifts for the emperor, empress, crown prince, and crown princess. The next day, the emperor sent decorations to all members of the delegation, the level determined by the station of each.
¹⁵

In February a British delegation arrived for the presentation of the Order of the Garter, as described in an earlier chapter. These attentions from foreign governments undoubtedly pleased the emperor, in contrast to developments at home. In March, for example, the foreign minister, Kat
ō
Takaaki (1860–1926), resigned over differences with other members of the cabinet concerning a bill recommending government ownership of the railways. Kat
ō
opposed the bill as an invasion of private rights, and when the bill passed despite his opposition, he submitted his resignation to Prime Minister Saionji. Members of the government who resigned invariably gave failing health as the reason, but Kat
ō
stated his real reasons.

The emperor, always a stickler for precedents, asked Saionji why Kat
ō
had disregarded custom. Saionji explained that when a man who asks to resign gives poor health as the reason, he may or may not be telling the truth. He implied that Kat
ō
was a rare example of an honest man; in any case, he asked the emperor to forgive Kat
ō
’s action and accept his resignation. The emperor was persuaded, and as a consequence Saionji, in addition to being prime minister and minister of education, temporarily became foreign minister.
¹⁶