Last Genro

Omura

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781136198724
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Ciencias sociales
• Subtopic: Antropología

First Published in 2005, but published originally in 1938 on the eve of the Second World War, this work focuses on the last member of a distinguished group of genros, or elder statesmen, who participated in the wars of the Meiji restoration and in 1889 under Emperor Meiji, drew up the Imperial Constitution on which the Japanese political system was based. Prince Saionji was the president of the Privy Council, the second president of the Seyukai party, twice Prime Minster and Japan's Chief Delegate to the Paris Peace Conference.

V

PARTY PRESIDENT AND PRIME MINISTER

CHAPTER V

PARTY PRESIDENT AND PRIME MINISTER

“PRINCE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” OKIKU ASKED HESItantly as she sat beside Saionji at their Omori home.

“Huh, a little writing for the new magazine started by Takekoshi and some others.”

“For Nippon of the World that you named for them?” Her eyes were fixed unseeingly on her fan.

“Yes, Okiku, that’s right. They are coming to get the manuscript today.”

Saionji rested his brush on the desk and turned to her. “Isn’t it hot, Okiku? See, my yukata is soaked with perspiration. We may have a thunder shower later.”

Okiku began to fan Saionji again.

“We are lucky, Prince, that we are not in the city where the low, frame houses stick together like the teeth of a comb. On a day like this, people can hardly breathe there.”

Both looked out into the garden.

“Huh.” Saionji picked up his own uchiwa. “You love this place in the summer but not in the winter, don’t you? But I love it all the year round.”

“I have always liked it, Prince.”

He looked at her sharply. The recent note of deference to his opinion did not suit her. Where had the other Okiku gone, the ‘Spitfire’ of the Nakamura-ro days?

“Look towards the northwest. As far as our eyes can reach we can see the vast Musashino. I hope nobody builds houses in front of us.” Saionji got up and walked towards the edge of the veranda, Okiku following.

“Huh, there comes a delivery-man from the Mitsukoshi store.”

“Oh, Prince, what did you order?”

“Just a trifle.”

The man brought a fairly bulky package and went away.

“Prince, shall I open it?”

“Huh. Somebody is coming, those young friends.”

“My, they have bicycles!”

“Marquis Saionji,” Takekoshi, the leader of the visiting group, announced, “today we have brought with us a new friend, Kunigita Doppo. He is young, but he was a star war correspondent on board a warship during the Sino-Nipponese War and now is considered a new light in journalistic and literary circles. In fact, he is an outstanding novelist—”

“Huh, you mentioned him to me the other day when I was in the billiard parlor of Koyokan Hall.”

“Yes, Marquis.”

“Kunigita-kun, glad you came—”

Sakai, another visitor, broke in. “He is a great realist.”

Kunigita’s face was pale, he had a moustache, black hair, eyebrows slanting upward, sparkling eyes, a pointed chin and slender shoulders. Unlike Takekoshi, who was in a neat linen suit, Kunigita and Sakai wore summer kimonos. All had their fans.

The newcomer bowed politely.

Okiku, who had taken the package inside, returned with a tray of wineglasses and bottles, and greeted them: “Welcome, all of you.”

The visitors beamed, but whether at their charming hostess or because their favorite drink was within reach was a matter of speculation.

Saionji’s maid-servant brought in two other trays: one with plates of sliced raw fish and vegetables with vinegar and soy sauce, and the other with more glasses and bottles of beer.

“This is very informal though. What would you prefer, sir, wine or beer?” Okiku asked Takekoshi, now one of Saionji’s most intimate followers.

“Well—” Takekoshi put out his hand.

“Take your choice, friends,” Saionji said.

Takekoshi continued: “Before we accept your offer, we would like to speak to the Marquis regarding the object of our visit.”

“Takekoshi-san, drink first. You need not worry.” The host smiled.

Okiku filled Takekoshi’s glass. Following his example, everyone accepted beer.

“Here, we drink to the Marquis!” Takekoshi proposed the toast.

Out of doors, not a single green leaf of the now almost fully-grown rice plants beyond Saionji’s yard was moving. Hundreds of small flies danced in the air.

Each emptied a few glasses. The hot late-afternoon sun, the extreme humidity and the drink caused them to sweat. But despite the oppressive weather they became light-hearted and discussed every imaginable subject: domestic politics, social problems, dramas, educational reforms, the contemporary trend of literature, the first labor movement, the opening of the modern private banks by the Mitsui and the Yasuda Houses, the territorial acquisitions in China by the Powers, the rumor of the secret treaty between Russia and China against Nippon, Hawaii’s refusal to permit Nipponese immigration, and women’s fashions.

In the meantime, Saionji handed a bulky manuscript to Takekoshi.

“Thank you, Marquis. The public will be eager to read the account of your life. I shall see to it that the story appears in installments in our magazine as soon as possible. It will be entitled The Miscellaneous Writings of—”

He looked at the host who said: “To-an.”

He laid it down and whispered to Kunigita, the war correspondent: “Read this some time.”

“Yes, Takekoshi-san.”

After another drink, Kunigita opened the Saionji manuscript and began to look through it.

Sakai saw him. “You don’t need to read it now. There must be plenty of breath-taking and fascinating facts in the life of our chief.”

The reader ignored the interruption. He frequently bit his moustache.

Sakai repeated his statement. Kunigita raised his eyebrows, but Takekoshi intervened. “Well,” he said, wiping his round chin, “in the political field Marquis Saionji, frankly speaking, is still a secondary character when we think of the Genros, but within a short while you’ll see him head the Government.”

“Those courtiers had very little to offer and were too tender-hearted towards the brusque clansmen—” Sakai interrupted, but Takekoshi once more put his handkerchief to his face and went on: “Marquis Saionji remained in the stormy sea of politics despite the fact that he could have chosen steady and undisturbed court duty if he so desired. But he continued to be active and has already headed the Education Department twice and also the Foreign Office. Furthermore, his Choshu mentor, Genro Ito, is anxious to bequeath his political fortune to him.”

The ordinarily reserved Takekoshi went on and on, concluding that they must publicize the Marquis as much as possible: “Because Marquis Saionji himself, quite contrary to the practice of the political leaders, avoids all limelight.”

Sakai, patiently waiting, said: “You are correct in that, Takekoshi. I came into contact with the Marquis at the time he and my teacher, Nakae, and others organized that short-lived Oriental Liberal Newspaper. He never boasted about himself. My teacher used to say that Marquis Saionji was too serene and unselfish to be a politician. What I want him to emphasize when he becomes a dominating factor in the country is the social side of national affairs. See, in 1872 there were only thirty-three million Nipponese. In the last twenty-five years the population jumped to forty-three million, yet nothing has been done to better their lot. The average person is left at the mercy of the upper economic class—”

They stared at him uncomprehendingly.

Takekoshi ventured: “Sakai is ahead of our times. In our country the problem of labor and capital is not serious yet. We have too few factories, and the farmers are accustomed to their hard life.”

Sweat streamed from Sakai’s forehead. He kept on talking, his shoulders lifted and his kimono sleeves tucked up: “True, but if these economic and social disparities are neglected they will some day shake the governmental structure of the country. To deal with these new problems adequately, our leaders must know something about the new political philosophy, Socialism—”

“Already the talk of Socialism is sending shivers down the backs of our public men, Genro Ito, for instance,” Takekoshi interrupted, “is such an able man, but he is frightened—”

“Nonsense.” Sakai came back quickly. “Since we have accepted Western industrialism, the application of the principles of the Second Internationale will be the only solution. It will not disturb the economic and political order of the nation if properly applied. Whether you like it or not, Takekoshi, it will come with tremendous force. Our new labor movement is the best example. The oppressed class is waking up. In the Western countries, where the industrial stage has advanced, the labor movement is also forging ahead. In Paris, May Day was first observed in 1890, while I was there.”

The animated Sakai continued to discuss Socialism, finishing with his experiences at the Conference of the Second Internationale, which was held in 1891 in Brussels. He looked at Saionji who had also been there. Since Sakai’s return from Belgium, he did not let anyone forget that he had represented the Nipponese Socialists abroad.

Kunigata finished reading from Saionji’s autobiography.

Takekoshi turned to him and asked: “Well, at any rate, there are many startling facts heretofore unrevealed in the Marquis’ life, are there not, Kunigita?”

Kunigita raised his pale face and said: “Not that I know of.”

“What?” the inquirer exclaimed as the others stared at Kunigita.

Saionji, who had been listening to their discussion, lifted his eyes towards the darkening clouds in the southwestern sky.

There was a brief silence.

“There must be,” Takekoshi persisted.

“Nothing more than we know about; in fact, less,” he replied.

“Huh.” The company was taken aback.

With sparkling eyes, after peering at Saionji, Kunigita resumed: “This is very interesting, nevertheless.” The listeners were puzzled. He went on: “Because the author does not dwell on his part in the various political changes of the past.”

“Do you mean to say that the man who was the Commander-General of the Tamba Expedition, then the head of the army in the Echigo Sector, and later appointed Governor before his twenties, has nothing interesting to say?” Takekoshi turned to Saionji.

The host was calm. “Huh, that was true, but I was only a figurehead. I only did what leaders like Saigo, Kido, Okubo and Iwakura told me to do, particularly in the actual military warfare in which General Omura gave me the most advice. He and Saigo had mapped out the entire campaign. Their lieutenants, Kuroda and Yamagata, who later became premiers—and are now Genros—were assigned to me as my chiefs of staff in the north.”

Smiling, he went on: “At that time, those first four men I have mentioned overshadowed everybody, they were the brains and forces of the new Government.”

“So those Satsuma and Choshu men, Kuroda, Matsukata, Ito and Yamagata didn’t amount to much, is that it?” Kunigita asked with glee.

Saionji merely smiled.

Kunigita clapped his hands. “Here is one man in our political circle able to tell the truth about himself.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation.” Takekoshi seemed to be disappointed in the manuscript.

“His personal advancement, I take it, he ascribes to nature’s course. Natural, very natural, it is. I admire this type of philosophy. After all, what can we human beings do against the forces of nature? Our life is a bubble on earth, we don’t solve anything, do we? There are no ideals, there are only daily necessities.”

The young novelist was talking to himself, but th...