Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (123 page)

As far as the emperor was concerned, 1898 was not a good year. Apart from the complicated political developments, in which he was more deeply involved than ever, the year was marked by his continuing concern about the crown prince’s health and education. The prince was twenty-one by Japanese count this year, meaning that he had attained his majority; but his education had been seriously delayed by repeated bouts of illness. It
ō
recognized that improving the prince’s health was a priority, but he insisted that the prince’s mental development not be neglected either. He therefore urged that the prince attend sessions of the Diet as a way of learning about political and military concerns.
³⁰
The prince showed signs of taking his new responsibilities seriously, and in June he gave his first reception to foreign diplomats, shaking hands and graciously conversing.

On occasion, however, the emperor had cause to admonish his son. He was disturbed to learn that the crown prince had been telling people he intended to fire members of his staff because they were incompetent. The emperor reprimanded the prince, saying that this was not the proper way to treat his staff, that if he was dissatisfied with their service, he should report this privately to the imperial household minister and await orders from the emperor.
³¹

The crown prince was promoted to the ranks of major in the army and lieutenant commander in the navy. The emperor had refused to permit this promotion the previous year, saying that the prince had not been in grade long enough to warrant it, but this year he yielded.
³²
Needless to say, the prince did not perform the duties associated with these military ranks, although his health improved noticeably late in the year.
³³

Probably the emperor’s most enjoyable experience this year was observing the Grand Maneuvers held in the
Ō
saka area. He rose every morning at five and, regardless of the weather, traveled to the “front” to observe the mock warfare staged between the South Army (foreign invaders seeking to capture
Ō
saka) and the North Army defending the city. After the maneuvers had ended, he expressed his satisfaction but, warning that rapidly changing world conditions did not permit a relaxation of preparedness, he exhorted the officers to make an even greater effort.
³⁴

Unfortunately, we do not have a more personal expression of the emperor’s feelings. The poems he composed this year, though skillfully expressed, are conventional in sentiment, but perhaps the following
tanka
was meant to convey private emotions:

Chapter 50

The long struggle to end extraterritoriality at last bore fruit in 1899, bringing Japan equality among the nations of the world. As far as Emperor Meiji was concerned, however, the most important events of his forty-eighth year were personal and not related to treaty revision.

The year began inauspiciously with the death in January of the last-born of his children, Princess Takiko. She died on the same day, exactly two years later, as Dowager Empress Eish
ō
. Flags were flown at half-mast; teaching at public and private schools was canceled; and the usual order was issued prohibiting singing and dancing in T
ō
ky
ō
and environs. However, the emperor’s New Year poem, on the subject “Smoke from a Country Chimney,” revealed no trace of grief.

This year, for the first time, the crown prince participated in the first poetry meeting, an indication that having attained his majority, he was expected to compose poetry. The prince’s education would be much discussed during the year in terms of how to increase the content of his studies without impairing his health. His relations with his father remained formal and distant. Even when he and his sisters visited the palace, the emperor rarely granted them an audience. In February, when the two princesses were about to leave for Kamakura to escape the T
ō
ky
ō
winter, they were taken to the palace to say goodbye to their father. He refused to allow them into his presence because of a cold, but the empress, although she was also ill, insisted on seeing them.
¹

The court ladies found it impossible to understand why the emperor, whose love for his daughters was demonstrated even in such trivial matters as his care over the patterns of the kimonos he gave them, persisted in refusing to see them. They often pleaded with him to see his daughters from time to time, but he never took their advice.

Sasaki Takayuki explained the emperor’s apparent coldness in terms of his Confucian education. He had revered the Chinese classics ever since childhood and had taken to heart their accounts of why certain countries prospered and others perished. His refusal to take the advice of court ladies may have been the result of reading the examples of disasters that had occurred when an emperor gave heed to his women. Sasaki admitted that the emperor may have been excessively cautious and at times seemed to reject good advice even from those closest to him, but Sasaki believed this was preferable to allowing the court to be swayed by opinions emanating from the women’s quarters of the palace. The emperor might even be said to be rectifying a long-standing evil. Perhaps Sasaki was correct, but Meiji seems to have taken the lessons of history too literally.

In February 1899 the emperor’s personal physicians recommended that he spend time in Ky
ō
to for his health. They asked Tokudaiji Sanetsune, the chief chamberlain, to persuade the emperor, but he was unsuccessful. Next, they asked the imperial household minister, Tanaka Mitsuaki (1843–1939), who, when received into the emperor’s presence, bluntly reported that the physicians believed the emperor was becoming obese. They warned that if he did not overcome his corpulence by exercise, the overweight was likely to affect his heart. Tanaka spoke with old-fashioned eloquence: “Your Majesty is the lord of the nation, the bulwark of the myriads of your people. Your body is Your Majesty’s own, but at the same time, it is not yours alone; it is not solely for Your Majesty’s sake that you must take good care of your body but for the sake of the people of the whole nation. However, in recent years you have allowed yourself to become exhausted under the pressure of state business. As long as Your Majesty remains in T
ō
ky
ō
, there is little chance of your enjoying a moment’s respite. I have heard that in the twenty-eighth year of your reign, when negotiations to end the war with China had been concluded, you traveled from Hiroshima to Ky
ō
to and rested there for a month. During that time you exercised morning and evening, and your health was extremely good. No doubt it is because Your Majesty was born in Ky
ō
to and its mountains, rivers and landscapes are all familiar to Your Majesty that the site is particularly conducive to your health. It is true that thirty years have passed since you first took up residence in the castle of T
ō
ky
ō
, but the castle formerly belonged to the shogunate, and even though the surroundings are not lacking in spacious gardens and charm, this is not Your Majesty’s old abode. It is, moreover, so strictly guarded as to make it difficult for you to enjoy a leisurely stroll. Last year, when you supervised the special army maneuvers on the Settsu-Izumi plain, Grand Headquarters were in
Ō
saka, a mere twenty or twenty-five miles from Ky
ō
to, yet you did not go there. People at the time wondered why Your Majesty went to
Ō
saka but not to Ky
ō
to. They asked, ‘Doesn’t His Majesty love Ky
ō
to?’ But your long stay in 1895 demonstrated this was not the case. I humbly implore Your Majesty to take the advice of your physicians, and go to Ky
ō
to for a vacation. You will surely regain your health.”

Tanaka knew that his words were unwelcome. The emperor, his face coloring with anger, said, “I did not reject the chief physician’s advice without good reason. Ky
ō
to is my old home, a place I have always loved, as you know. But just because I love the place, is it right for me to take a vacation there? It may be good for my health, but what will happen if state business falls hopelessly behind because I am not here? Last year, when I went to
Ō
saka to supervise the Grand Maneuvers, I deliberately did not go to Ky
ō
to. I was afraid I might get carried away by my love for Ky
ō
to and, once settled there, might not wish to return to T
ō
ky
ō
. Couldn’t you and your colleagues understand that? What you ask of me, of course, is not unreasonable, but if I should neglect state business for even one day, the repercussions would affect every official. This is why I cannot neglect state business on my own account, not even for a single day. The one thing incumbent on me is to carry out diligently the Way of the emperor, fulfilling my Heaven-appointed mission. If this should bring about my death, I ask nothing more. I shall be content.”

His expression gradually softened as he spoke. He went on, “You must stop worrying about me. From now on I will exercise and do what I can to restore my health. Don’t worry so much about me any more.” Afterward, he occasionally took a stroll in his private garden or performed exercises, but before long he abandoned these efforts.
²

The emperor was sensitive about his weight. According to Chamberlain Viscount Hinonishi Sukehiro, the emperor stopped reading newspapers because an article in the
Ch
ū
ō
shimbun
had stated that the emperor weighed more than 170 pounds. Angered by the article, he said, “It wouldn’t bother me if what they printed was the truth, but I can’t abide lies. I’ll never look at a newspaper again.”
³

All the same, a poem composed in 1905 indicates that the emperor continued to read newspapers, at least occasionally, although their mistakes continued to irritate him:

The emperor’s weight was clearly related to his loss of interest in riding, which in the past had been his favorite diversion. The only thing that seemed to interest him now was his work. It is not clear how many hours he actually spent each day in his office, but it does not seem that, like his contemporary Emperor Franz Josef of Austria, he was at his desk from morning to late at night perusing official documents. He continued to drink heavily, although by this time he had switched from saké to wine. His appetite remained good, judging from the menus of the dinners he offered visiting dignitaries.
⁵

The personal matter that most occupied the emperor’s attention at this time was finding a bride for the crown prince, who in 1899 became twenty years old. The emperor hoped that a girl could be found in the imperial family, but if there was not one who would make a suitable bride in that class, girls of the high aristocracy might also be considered. If even this enlargement of the search failed to uncover a likely bride, one might be sought among girls whose fathers were
k
ō
shaku
.
⁶
As far back as 1891, the emperor had asked Tokudaiji Sanetsune to send to the Takanawa Palace as playmates for Princesses Masako and Fusako some girls of the upper classes who were of the right age to marry the crown prince. He further directed Sasaki Takayuki to examine the appearance and personality of each. One candidate stood out, Princess Sachiko, the daughter of Prince Sadanaru, the commanding general of the Tenth Division. Shimoda Utako, the head mistress of the Peeresses’ School, recommended her strongly, as did the imperial household minister, who described her in a report to the emperor. It seemed certain that she would be chosen as the crown prince’s bride.