Man, in the earlier periods of his existence, when he was as yet putting forth his juvenile strength to subdue creation, was ever inclined to look upon the great forces of nature as difficulties in his path and obstacles to his progress, which, in his more mature strength, he has come to regard as aids to help him, and to cherish as the very means to the attainment of his ends. Such an object of awe to the earlier mariner was the great ocean, when he had no compass to guide him over its unknown and apparently boundless expanse, and with no knowledge of the winds and no experience of the currents. When he had no means of keeping food or fresh water for any great length of time, he was a bold man who would venture far out of sight of land. Provided with the faithful compass, men became bolder; they enlarged their vessels, making longer voyages, until they ran over the length and breadth of the Eastern seas. Still the China Sea, with its typhoons and its monsoons and currents, down to a comparatively recent period, was looked upon as an obstacle which was to be smoothed down and not to be wrestled with. To beat up the China Sea against the northeastern monsoon was considered a rash struggle and a fool hardy waste of time, and in consequence the trade-voyages to China were confined to vessels going up the sea in summer with the southerly monsoon and returning in winter with the northerly. Obstacles such as these made mariners unwilling to run the risk of pushing up the sea the length of Shanghai or Japan, when the time of their return was a matter of so much doubt.

In the present age, when man is thinking himself of some importance from the little odds and ends of knowledge he has stored up, the ocean, instead of being a barrier of separation between islands and continents, has become what the Mediterranean Sea was to the Old World—a link of connection, a highway of commerce, and steam has become a bridge by which distant shores have been joined together. The world is now finding out that she is one—that the interests of nations are one, and that no one part of the body can say to the other, “I have no need of thee.” If Japan has hitherto felt herself in a position to use such an expression to her fellow-members of the body cosmopolitan, and the feeling has been responded to by their acquiescence, the time and circumstances seem to have arrived when this seclusion is to be ended. The distance at which these islands seemed to lie from the heart of the world’s circulation, Europe, has been almost annihilated, and European nations have through the settlements in India and China crept up alongside of the isles of the East. The difficulties of access have been smoothed away, her sumptuary laws have been abrogated, while the produce of her rich soil is daily increasing to meet the demands which are made upon it, and which she is becoming willing and ready to exchange for that of which she is more in need.

Steam has been the active agent in bringing about these changes, causing the pulses of trade to beat with greater frequency and with increased vigor. But to any one who looks below the surface there may be seen other agents at work, all concurring at this crisis in the world’s existence to produce changes of portentous magnitude. The discoveries of chemistry, whether by the aggressive forces obtained in the manufacture of munitions of war, or by the more widely extended but silent beneficial operations of such an agent as quinine, steam with all its ramifications of wealth, the telegraph with its tenfold power of convertibility, the discovery of gold at the most remote parts of the world, have combined to produce, by the sudden influx of real wealth, by the intermingling of ranks of men, and by the rapid throwing into men’s minds of a quantity of information or of knowledge, a condition of things in the mass which makes that mass kneadable by those who can knead it, and fitted for the reception of any leaven, for good or for evil, which may be mixed with it. The mingling of ranks in the social system, the disturbance of creeds in the religious, the confounding of parties in the political, are preparing the way for some world-wide change, by which old systems are to be done away and new established. It is not working in one nation alone, but in all: it is not confined to Christendom, showing that the time to come is not to be like times past; but that the time is coming when it is possible for one person to aim at one rule over the whole world. This change is coming up like the rising of water. It may overwhelm all existing things like a wave. Some call it Progress, others Democracy, but, whatever it be, it is evident that every existing institution is to get such a shaking that only the things that cannot be shaken will stand.

All national institutions having, or pretending to have, order, will probably have to undergo this trial; and when it comes the whole remains of the feudal system will be tested: monarchies, the peerage, tenures of land, orders in the Church, and, above all, the question of primogeniture, cannot fail to be put on trial. The different sections in the religious and political world seem gradually separating themselves into two large parties, the one standing for the vox Dei, the other holding the vox populi to be the vox Dei—the one believing that power comes from above, the other that power comes from below.

The leaven is working in the minds of men, whether they will it or not; and no nation will feel the effects of this fermentation more than Japan. Above all nations, she to this hour retains her feudal system intact. She must learn, as others have in past times and may have to learn again, at the expense of revolution and blood. The people are already being stirred, and dare to question. The nobles are beginning to quake, they know not why, in the face of changes which are being forced upon them. The very throne of the emperor is being searched and shaken.

In order to understand where the weakness of a building lies, or how it is likely to fall down, it is first necessary to know how it is constructed; and in order to comprehend the changes which events may bring about in Japan, some idea must be formed of the government of the country. Without some knowledge of the framework of the constitution, it is difficult to understand the relative position of men, or to appreciate the operation of external agents upon the system of the empire, whether that operation work by a slow process of leavening from within, or by a violent concussion from without.

The aim of the author in the following pages has been to give some idea of the framework of the constitution of Japan. Having resided for some little time in the country, he was enabled to get what seemed to him a clearer glimpse of the working of the different parts of the machinery of State than was to be gained from any of the able works published on the subject. The time at his command was too short, and his knowledge of the language too limited, to enable him to do more than prepare a sketch which may serve a temporary purpose, before works of greater research and fuller information are produced.

The position of the Emperor (Spiritual Emperor, as he is sometimes erroneously called), as the first in the empire, must be recognized; the office held by the Temporal Emperor, the Shiogoon (or Tycoon, as he has been named), must be correctly and distinctly understood before the nature of the rule in the empire can be comprehended. It is further essential that the student should be acquainted with the rank and position of the nobility or nobilities of the empire (for of these there are two classes)—that of Miako at the court of the Emperor, the Koongays; and that of Yedo at the court of the Shiogoon, the Daimio, and beneath them the Hattamoto. Without some knowledge of these the reader is lost in a maze of unmeaning names and titles; but with a slight acquaintance with the rank, offices, and names of these nobles, he is able not only to follow the thread of history, but to understand the intricacies of current events.

A description of a picture by a native artist, seen by the author of this volume, may give some idea of the relation in which these dignitaries stand the one to the other. The upper half of the picture represents the Shiogoon or Tycoon at the palace in the capital, Miako, making his obeisance and performing homage before his liege lord the Emperor, seated in the great hall, Shi shin den, of the palace. The upper part of the Emperor’s person is concealed behind a screen of thin slips of bamboo hanging from the roof. The throne is three mats, or thin mattresses, placed one above the other upon the floor. There is no chair or support to the back. On each side of the Emperor sit on their knees on the floor the high officers of his court. Before him is seen the late Shiogoon, kneeling and prostrating himself, with his head to the floor. Behind the Shiogoon are his high officers Stotsbashi and the great Daimio Owarri, both in a similar position of prostration; while beneath, in the open court, are military officials of the Imperial Court standing or kneeling. This picture represents accurately a fact, and what appears to be a correct illustration of the ideas of the people of Japan with regard to the relative status of the Emperor and the Shiogoon.

It may almost be a matter of wonder that so little was known of Japan until the advent of the Portuguese. Men were in old times adventurous travelers, and yet, except what is contained in the pages of Marco Polo, written in the thirteenth century, nothing more was known of the existence of the country. The Buddhism of India had permeated China, Corea, and Japan, but it brought nothing back. Mohammedanism, at an early stage, reached China, and gained many converts, and the Arabs carried on an extensive trade with China and the Eastern Isles; but neither by their writings nor by the early native accounts do they seem to have reached the shores of Japan, or, at least, ever to have returned from them. This may perhaps be attributed to the wars of the Crusades, which appear to have lighted up such a fierce feeling between the Christian and the Moslem as to have proved a barrier to the inquisitiveness of the former in his investigations regarding the East. When the Portuguese, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, had pushed their discoveries and trade as far as Malacca, and thence to China, it was to be expected that such adventurous seamen as they then were would, before long, solve the question of a people living under the rising sun. It is fortunate that, among the lawless buccaneers and pirates, as they evidently were, on those seas during this time, one man, Mendez Pinto, should have been found with the zeal to write some account of the doings on the Sea of China, and to lift the veil which, until he wrote, hung over the events which he records. That the latter part of his narrative, relating principally to China, should have been called mendacious, is not to be wondered at. But all that he relates with reference to Japan is not only corroborated by a closer acquaintance with the country and people, but also by the native historians in their accounts of the arrival of foreigners in the country, as well as by the letters of the Jesuits who visited Japan very shortly after it was first discovered by the Portuguese traders.

Subsequently to the period at which Mendez Pinto wrote, the history of foreign relations with the country is kept up by the letters of priests and Jesuits who occupied Japan as a field for the spread of Christianity. In the “Histoire de l’Église du Japon” there is an excellent summary of occurrences connected with the Church, its missions, its successes, its difficulties, its martyrs, and its enemies, together with a glance at events in Japan during the most eventful crisis in the history of the country. After the expulsion of the Jesuits and Roman Catholic doctrines from the empire, there are accounts from time to time published by the officers connected with the establishment kept up by Holland at Nagasaki. Caron, Fischer, Meylan—but, above all, Kæmpfer and Thunberg, and Titsingh and Klaproth—and, in our own times, Siebold—have done much to elucidate the manners and customs and natural history of Japan.

Kæmpfer has given a most interesting and instructive account of what he saw in the country during a long residence, and upon more than one progress to the courts at Miako and Yedo. His delineation of the manners and customs of the people of Japan will remain as a memorial of a state of things seen under circumstances not likely to occur again. But the work was published by another after the death of the author, and, in consequence of this, many of the names of men, places and things are nearly unintelligible. Kæmpfer’s work is well known to the Japanese, having been translated or repeatedly copied in manuscript, and is known as “Su koku rong.” It is an interdicted book, and only recently a man was punished upon being detected in the act of copying the translation. The translation by Klaproth of the “Annales des Empereurs de Japon” is a most valuable work, and contains a wonderful amount of information, being, as it were, the complement of Kæmpfer’s work, drawn entirely from books and not from personal observation.

The natives of Japan appear to have an intense love and reverence for their own country, and every individual in the empire seems to have a deep and thorough appreciation of the natural beauties and delights of the country. To this the genial climate, the rich soil, and the variety of the surface contribute. The islands lie at such a latitude as to make the air in summer warm without being hot, and in winter cold without being raw. The soil, as in all recent lava soils, is of a rich black mould, raising the finest crops of millet, wheat and sugar-cane, and when supplied in unstinted profusion rearing splendid timber, or capable, when nearly entirely withdrawn, of keeping life and vigor and seeding power in a pine tree of two inches in height. The trees have a tendency to break out into excrescences from plethora. The variety of surface arises from the great height to which the mountains rise in an island which at no part presents so great a breadth as England, and yet slopes gradually from the mountain tops to the sea. Some of these ridges appear to rise to the height of Mont Blanc, one of them, Fusiyama, being upward of thirteen thousand feet in height, and it would appear that other ranges are higher. The great beauty of Fusi (pah rh, not two) consists in its rising singly out of a low country with a beautifully curved sweep to a conical apex; and the atmospheric effects changing from hour to hour, as it is seen from thirteen provinces, give such a variety to this single object that it is rightly called by a name to express the feeling that there are not two such in the world. The variations of atmospheric density make it look at one time much higher than at another. It may be seen with its head clear in the blue sky rising out of a thick base of clouds—or the clouds rise and roll in masses about the middle, leaving the gentle curve to be filled up by the mind’s eye from the base to the apex. Again, the whole contour, in a sort of proud, queenly sweep, stands out against a cloudless ether, or with a little vapor drifting to leeward of the summit giving the appearance of a crater—or, after a cool night in September, the eye is arrested by the appearance of the bursting downward of a flattened shell, the pure white snow filling the valleys from the top, the haze of the morning half concealing the hill beneath. Every hour brings a change upon a landscape which consists of a single object which the lover of nature can never weary of admiring, in a climate where seventy miles of atmosphere does not obscure the larger features on the face of the mountain even to the naked eye. How often would such an object be visible in the climate of England?

The first settlement of inhabitants upon an island is always a subject of interesting speculation and inquiry. The insular position gives an idea of a definite time or period at which the peopling of a large island must have taken place. The freedom of possession of boundless wealth presents every inducement to the immigrant to remain, while distance and difficulties repel the idea of return. In Japan this immigration may in all probability have commenced by a gradual spreading from the north of inhabitants of Manchuria through the islands of Saghalien and Jezo to those of the Japanese group.

During the earlier periods of a nation’s existence, the art of writing has been generally kept in the hands of men who have devoted themselves to a life of retirement and seclusion from the strife and temptations of the outer world. These have been found among the priesthood, and it has been their business or their amusement to gather up and commit to writing what had been up to the time current as oral tradition in regard to prehistoric occurrences. Men are forced by reasoning to refer the appearance of their first ancestors to a creation by, or procession from, a Divine Being. At the same time, those who have wielded the power of writing, and thereby reached and influenced a larger circle of their fellowmen, have generally endeavored to clothe the deities from whom they profess to have sprung with virtues which were to be emulated by their descendants, or to inculcate through them, by precept, a purity of moral conduct to be practiced by their followers.

The group of islands generally included under the one name Japan was known in remote times by a variety of names—“Akitsu sima, Toyo aki, Toyo ashiwarra no nakatsa kooni.” “Wo kwo,” the country of peace, is used by the Chinese for Japan. “Ho,” pronounced “Yamato,” and used for one province, is frequently applied in Japan to the whole country.

The name Nippon—Nits pon—“Yutpone” in Cantonese, “Jih pun” in the Mandarin dialect, by which the whole empire is now known—is of Chinese origin, and has probably been conveyed to the country by the first Chinese settlers. Denoting, as the name implies, that it is the country where the sun rises, the idea must have originated with the people to the west. “Hon cho,” another name by which it is known, conveys the same idea, “The beginning or root of the morning.” The name “Yamato,” peaceful, harmonious, was more likely to have originated with the natives. “Akitsu sima” implies that the island resembles a dragonfly in shape, and was at first applied to Kiusiu alone. “Shin koku,” a name by which the Japanese speak of their own empire, means the land of spirits; and a similar idea is conveyed by the name “Kami no kooni.” “Awadsi sima” refers to the supposed origin of the islands from mud or froth, and is still applied to the large island lying between Nippon and Sikok.

Some of these names probably retain the old words used by the original inhabitants of the country translated into Chinese by the new immigrants. To these newcomers it was no doubt a work of pleasure to gather up what stores of tradition were floating among the inhabitants of the country, and, adding thereto much from their own imagination, to compose a mythology suited to the genius of the people. This mythology, which we may suppose to have been composed by some of the Chinese literati about the court, had for its object the elevation of the reigning family, and the assertion for that family of a divine origin and divine ancestry. It is worthy of note that these divine ancestors were known at a very early period by Chinese names, that of the mother and founder of the imperial family being “Ten sho dai jin”—the “great spirit of the celestial splendor of the sun,” four distinct Chinese words.

According to this mythology, the heavens and the earth having formed themselves out of nothing, gave forth a spirit—a “kami”—who was the father of a line of seven generations of spiritual beings who ruled the universe as it then was, during a period extending over millions of years, ending in a male and a female, respectively named Issanaghi and Issanami. These seem equivalents to or representatives of the male and the female principles which, according to the Chinese, pervade all animate creation. They are allegorically represented as producing the islands of Japan, the mountains, seas and other natural objects therein. Subsequently a daughter was brought forth, “Ten sho dai jin,” who is the spirit of the sun; and another, “Tsuki no kami,” the spirit of the moon. These divinities are of no further importance in history than as serving to make a line of ancestry for the reigning family. At the time when, according to tradition, the genealogy merged in mortal men, the country was found to be peopled, and there is no attempt to show whence these people came, though described as hairy, uncivilized, and living in the open air. These myths are generally of a Buddhistic origin, and were probably brought over or invented by some missionary of that religion at an early time, when the influence of India operated strongly in the spread of its doctrines. This influence is shown to this day in the repetition of prayers in an unknown language, and the retention of an Indian alphabet and writing—the Sanskrit or Devanagari—in all the religious works of Japan.

Some of these divinities are so frequently heard of, and representations of them, in pictures and carvings, are so common, that even a slight acquaintance with their names and attributes is useful. The different Buddhas are worshiped; Compera; the five hundred “Rakhan” or “Lohon”; the “Kwanon,” or goddess of mercy; and the “Stchi fuku jing,” or seven gods of riches. These last are generally drawn or carved on a boat, with emblems around them of long life, etc.—the stork, tortoise, a deer, a bag of money, a fir-tree, a bamboo, a crystal ball, a fish. Their names are—Hotay Daikoku, Yaybissu, Benten, Gayho, Bistamong, Fukowo kojiu. But the religion is more or less pantheistic, and there are many other gods and divinities, even down to shapeless stones.

To “Ten sho dai jin” is attributed the origin of the imperial house, as is shown by the words of the Emperor, in a letter recently written on the political position of affairs, “I am grieved, standing as I do between ‘Ten sho dai jin’ and my people.”

In the fifth generation after “Ten sho dai jin,” was born “Zinmu” or “Jin mu” (Chin: Shinwu—i.e., spirit of war). He was the first of the earthly or human rulers. He is said to have been born in Fiuga, a mountainous province on the east side of Kiu siu, on the west coast of the Boo ngo Channel. This part of the islands is well suited for trading purposes, and it is also well adapted for the landing of an invading force, and it is not unlikely that Zinmu either originally came from China, or was the son of some Chinese who had settled there, and who started thence on a design of conquest. At the time when he set out upon his career, the people of the country are said to have been hairy and uncivilized, but under the rule of a headman in each village. The Japanese have to this day a great contempt for the people of Yezo, who may be thus described, and they allege that similar tribes occupied the whole of the islands, and that they were gradually driven back before the armies of Zinmu. It is more likely that they were conquered, and gradually amalgamated with their conquerors by the intermarriage of these with native females, and that in this way, and by the effects of the warm climate of the south, they lost that hirsute appearance which is so characteristic of the people of Yezo.—Aino, the name given to the hairy inhabitants of Yezo by the Japanese, means “between,” and has reference to a contemptuous idea of the origin of these people from a dog.—There are two strongly-marked varieties of feature in Japan, which are always strikingly portrayed in their own pictures. There is the broad flat face of the lower classes, and the high nose and oval face of the higher. The difference is so marked as to be some argument in favor of a previous mixing of two different races; the one of which had extended southward from the Kurile Islands and Siberia, hairy and broad-featured; while the other had originated from the south, with Indian features and smooth skins.

The Japanese themselves do not pretend that there is any native documentary evidence in support of their history at the date of Zinmu, and the best writers allow that no writings prior to the seventh century are authentic. The introduction of Chinese letters into Japan is generally attributed to Onin, a learned man who came from Corea about the year 285 A.D. But prior to the date of Onin, many of the names of offices and officers were Chinese. It is hardly credible that, with the communication which is known to have existed at different times between Japan and China, and also with Corea, there should have continued for so long a time such complete ignorance. More than one embassy had resided at the court of China for months. The Chinese annals speak of an embassy during the reign of the Han dynasty, A.D. 238, when China was divided into “three kingdoms.” The ruler of Woo, one of these three, proposed to invade Japan, but the expedition miscarried. Nearly two centuries before this, in A.D. 57, an embassy was sent from Japan to China by Sei nin, which arrived at the court of Kwang ou, of the Eastern Han dynasty, in the last year of his reign. It is unlikely that, residing as such an embassy must have done for a considerable time at the court of China, they should not have brought away some knowledge of letters or some instructors in reading and writing. This Corean, Onin, may have been brought over to replace or to reteach what had been lost: for in more recent times it is known that, after the long civil wars of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, so little attention had been given to the instruction of youth that only two men were found in the empire competent to teach the written language.

We may be permitted to believe that much of what became tradition had at one time been committed to writing, and that, corroborated as it is at some points by Chinese history, there is a foundation for much of that part of history subsequent to the time of Zinmu, for the support of which there existed, when writing recommenced, no documentary evidence.

THE EMPEROR OF JAPAN

The line of gods carried on through godlike mortal descendants was prolonged in ordinary mortals, the first of whom was Zinmu. It is of little consequence by whom this pedigree was written or invented. It evidently was solely written for the then de facto rulers of the land. It does not pretend to deal with the people of Japan, or with the mode in which the peopling of the empire took place, but simply invents and details a divine pedigree for one family. At the time when this family is first heard of, the islands of Japan are acknowledged by Japanese historians to have been already peopled and divided into villages, each under some municipal rule.

The reign of Zinmu is the era of Japan, and is placed at 667 years before Christ. Setting out from Miazaki in Fiuga, on the east side of the island of Kiusiu, he with troops under his command gradually overran that island, and the adjoining one of Sikok, together with the west half of the island of Nippon, as far as the province of Mino to the east of Miako. Coming from the most rugged and comparatively barren province in the empire, he was attracted by the beauty and desirableness of the country around Miako. He settled at a place named Kashiwarra or Kashiwabarra, a site near the city of Narra, about fifteen miles from the present capital. This choice of a site has been ratified by every succeeding emperor, the Kio or capital (“King,” Chinese) of the empire having been frequently changed, but never removed to any great distance from the spot originally selected by Zinmu.

In truth, the site is in every way most suitable for the capital of the country. It is, geographically, nearly in the center of the islands which constitute the empire. From the port of the capital, Osaka (or Naniwa, as it was named of old), a great fringe of the coast of the three islands in almost land-locked waters is accessible to ships without their venturing into the open sea. To this port a large body of water is rolled down by the confluence of several rivers, which at one time were dispersed into several mouths and branches; but by labor these have been collected and confined within two outlets. There is, in consequence, a large extent of alluvial ground producing rice and wheat for a numerous population. The inland water-communication extends to the large lake Owomi—upward of sixty miles in length and eighteen in breadth; and thence, with an interval of a few miles only of land-carriage, to the port of Tsurunga, on the northern coast; while to the southeast, the natives report that there is uninterrupted water-communication to Owarri, and thence to Sinano, and, with a short interval of land-carriage, even to Yedo—whence, again, it extends northward by rivers and canals to the vicinity of Nambu. The city of Miako of the present day stands on a plain, among hills clothed with wood, where art has done what it could to assist nature in the completion of landscape scenery, of the beauties of which the natives speak with rapture. During twenty-four centuries, members of the family of Zinmu have sat upon the throne, and during that long time the palace has been only at short intervals removed to any considerable distance from the site on which it at present stands.

The imperial residence in Japan is a very different structure from anything that European ideas of palaces would expect, being chiefly built of wood and other materials so inflammable that a palace has been reconstructed and destroyed within a year. When we read of each emperor, at an early date, building a palace for himself, it is not to be supposed that these were either expensive or very durable buildings. Each emperor seems to have occupied a different habitation from his predecessor, removing from one site to another, but generally keeping within the province of Yamashiro, or that adjoining, Yamato. Kwanmu, in the year 794, built a palace on the site where the present city stands, and since his time Miako has been always looked upon as the metropolis.

The palace of the Emperor of Japan is called, as a whole, “Kinri go sho.” Though built of fine and expensive timber, it presents no appearance of that outward splendor which is generally considered by us to be necessary to an imperial residence. The roofs of the buildings are said to be white. It is surrounded by a common inclosure of wooden boarding. This inclosure is pierced by several gates. These entrances are graduated, and the settlement of the gate by which a great man shall make his entrance or his exit is a matter of no small importance at court. These gates lead into a large open space; in this is another inclosure (with other gates), in the center of which stands the wooden building, the “Shi shin deng,” or imperial office, in which the emperor receives the highest officers of the empire. This he appears to do almost in the open air. The emperor does not sit upon a throne or chair, but is slightly raised above the floor—three of the ordinary mats of the country, placed one above the other, being used as a throne. To the back of this public office is the residence or private apartments of the emperor; and behind these are the female apartments of the empress, the empress-mother, and other high ladies.

The “Shi shin deng” (Ch. “Tsz shin tien”) faces to the south, to the large outer gate, the “Yio may mong”; within this is another gate of a red inclosure, the gate of the sun, “Hi no go mong.” On passing through this, the large wooden-pillar-supported hall, with its roof with immense eaves, is seen raised from the ground upon a lower framework of wood. Before it stand an orange and a cherry tree. Between these, six steps lead up to the wooden gallery or veranda, which goes round the hall under eaves projecting five or six feet from the supports. A low balustrade surrounds this veranda. Under this large canopy of roof, almost in the open air, the Emperor sits while he receives homage. The “Shi shin deng” occupies the red inclosure, having on the east side a small wooden building for covering the car used in processions; to the east of that is the building in which the “three jewels” are kept, the “Naishi dokoro.” Within the “Shi shin deng” all extraordinary formal business of importance is transacted. The Shiogoon here presents himself to the Emperor. In the long hall to the west of the “Shi shin deng,” the “Say rio deng” (“Tsing liang tien”) or “Hiru no ma,” the mid-day room, ordinary business is transacted. Immediately in the rear of the “Shi shin deng” is the “Nai go bansho,” or inner hall for business. To the east side, and overlooking the garden, is the “Tsunay no goteng,” or hall of meeting, or drawing-room. Behind, in the “Ko ngo sho,” the Emperor’s son and heir lives; here also are the apartments of the elder women. “Nanga Hashi no Tsubo nay” is the room in which levees are held, where rank is given, and degradations or punishments are awarded. Formerly all the offices of the different departments of government were in the neighborhood of the palace, but outside, at a distance of one “cho,” or 120 yards.

At the back of all are the female apartments. On the east side, outside of the inclosure, is the Gakumonjo, or imperial school.

To the southeast of the whole is another inclosure, the “Ko een go sho,” the palace of the Emperor after he has abdicated, when he is known as Kubo, covering a space of ground nearly as large as the palace inclosure. Adjoining this, and immediately to the south, is the residence of the father or predecessor of the abdicated emperor. He is known as Sento (Tsin tung). To the southwest is that of the empress dowager, and the females of the old emperor’s court. The Shi sin wo, or four royal families, are located in the neighborhood, while all around are the residences, with inclosures of ground, belonging to the “Go sekkay,” or “five assisting” families. Among these also is found a small inclosure, the residence of the Sho shi dai, the envoy of the Shiogoon at the imperial court.

Except the greater elevation and whiteness of the roofs, there is nothing to distinguish the palace from the adjacent streets. That the Emperor should be thus housed probably involves a great state principle. The houses of Daimios and high officers are built in a much more durable manner. The Shiogoon’s residences at Osaka, Miako, Yedo, and other places, are generally built more like fortifications or places of great strength. In similar style are raised the houses, palaces or forts of the Daimios in their respective provinces. It cannot, therefore, be from any fear of earthquakes that this style of a plain wood-and-paper house is adopted, but it is probably founded on the same principle as that on which the imperial pedigree is drawn up; viz., with the view of giving to it the appearance of a temple, and surrounding the Emperor with the circumstances and attributes of a god.

This palace in Miako appears to be the only one now used by the Emperor. He is supposed to move from it temporarily only upon rare occasions. When he is obliged to change his residence, as when the palace is burned down, he occupies apartments in some one of the many temples in the neighborhood. Any display of splendor in building is reserved for the Shiogoon, who has several palaces of great size and strength, as at Miako, Osaka, Fusimi, Yedo, Kofoo, Soonpoo, all of which are laid out on the plan of forts and built with a view to defense from military attacks.

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It has been stated, and often repeated, that the Emperor of Japan sits on a throne all day without moving his hands, or even his eyes; that he is treated as a god, and that his subjects believe that the empire totters if he is unsteady. These are the exaggerations of the lower classes. There is no doubt that he is treated with the greatest reverence and respect—that he is, as it were, an ideal abstraction, a thing apart, necessary to the empire—that he is the Lord’s anointed, and not to be touched, and that no subject, however great he may be, or however firmly he may have grasped the power of the empire in the convulsions of a revolutionary period, may contemplate placing himself upon that seat; and we shall find that two of the greatest men who rose to the highest power did not dare to take such a step, though one, and perhaps both, proposed it to himself, and broached the idea to his followers. Though Nobunanga set up a representation of himself to be worshiped, he did not set aside the Emperor; and though Taikosama proposed to depose the Emperor, his followers would not allow it, or at least dissuaded him from making the attempt. Still the Emperor is not altogether looked upon as the spiritual being he is generally represented in modern books. Indeed, in the first periods of the history of the country the head of the empire was the commander, the leader of the army. Zinmu led his army to victory; and long after him the Empress Jinku Kogoo led her army into Corea. Her son Osin, better known by his posthumous title of Hatchimang, was at the head of his army. But where there is no enemy to fight the post of commander-in-chief soon falls into abeyance. Japan has long been in this position—of having no enemy to watch or to attack. Such a position entails, almost of necessity, the creation of a duality or double power. The weak condition to which the imperial court descended, after it had been denuded of its power, and after the command of its armies had fallen from the hands of scions of the blood-royal into those of other families, was followed by convulsions, civil wars, and bloodshed, till the people returned to a state of ignorance, and the fields to barrenness; but this seems only a consequence of having no enemy, no near neighbor with whom, by a process of constant watching and battling, as in Europe, the sinews of a nation are strengthened, and national feeling is concentrated into a unity.

The annals of the emperors show that, for long after the time of Zinmu, his successors took an active part in the politics, the wars, and the intrigues of the state. It is not a matter of wonder that the hands which held the scepter should have become feeble during the fierce civil wars which raged in the sixteenth century. The country would seem to have been driven by necessity to have two emperors—or at least, two opposing interests; and when the hereditary commander-in-chief had in turn become a nonentity, one adventurer after another started up—first, Nobunanga; secondly, Taikosama; thirdly, Iyeyas, all able men. The first battled with the Buddhist priesthood, the second turned his arms against Corea, the third, the ablest of all, devised that dual system of seemingly divided empire, by which the power of the executive remained in the hands of the Shiogoon at Yedo, while the source or fountain of honors remained with the Emperor in Miako. The configuration of the islands prevents their being cut into two empires; it remained for Iyeyas to devise a dual system by which peace has been preserved in a remarkable way for two hundred and fifty years.

As to the titles by which the Emperor is known, these are drawn in most part from the Chinese, and denote, in language suited to Oriental ideas, the illustrious position which he holds. The names express the idea that he reigns by divine right. The oldest of these titles seems to be Mikoto. This is a Japanese word meaning “venerable,” and translated into Chinese, “tsun.” The word Mikado is more commonly used now, and is translated by the Chinese “Ti,” or emperor. The word “O” or “Wo” is the Chinese “Wang,” emperor; and the word “ten,” or heaven, is commonly added—“Ten wo,” the heavenly ruler; or the combination “Owo,” or “Oho-wo,” meaning the great ruler, in which sense “Dai-wo” is also used. “Tenshi” is the “tien-tsi” of China, the son of heaven. “O-ooji,” the great family, is sometimes applied to the Emperor. The common people talk of the Emperor as “Miyako sama,” in contradistinction to “Yedo sama,” the Shiogoon, the Lord of Yedo. “Ooyaysama,” or the superior lord, is also used. “Dairi,” made up of two Chinese words signifying the inner court or “the interior,” is equivalent to the words “the court” in English, and seems to include the residences of the royal families and higher nobility. It is, however, sometimes applied to the Emperor himself, and sometimes to the palace as a building. The first word, “dai” is written both “great,” ta, and “inner,” nai. The latter seems the more common. “Gosho” is a word sometimes applied to the palace, at others to the Emperor and the government. The word “in,” or “een,” is a Buddhist word, added to the posthumous name of some of the deceased emperors instead of “Ten wo.” In addition to these, other names are used, as “Kwo tei,” or ruler of the people, “Chokku,” etc.

From the earliest period in the history of Japan, mention is made of three things which necessarily appertain to the person who sits upon the throne. They seem to be looked on as symbols of the imperial power, as palladia of the empire. In one of the treatises upon the Emperor’s court it is said of these mysterious emblems: “In that early time the heaven-illuminating god arrived at Kashiwabarra, then the capital, and placed an eight-cubit mirror and a grass-shaving sword in the palace, on the throne of the Emperor, and these received such homage as was rendered in the early times. The efficacy of the god was very great, so that the Emperor, dwelling with this god (these divine symbols), was, as it were, equal to a god. Within the palace these things were laid up, that the divine power might remain wherever these things were. At that time (two high officers) regulated the sacrificial rites and ceremonies until the tenth emperor, who, fearing the sacredness of the divine presence, took these two efficacious symbols, the sword and the mirror, and put them away in another place, which was the origin of the idea of the Emperor sitting like a god in the place of a god.”

In this quotation only two things are mentioned—the sword and the mirror. A third is spoken of sometimes as a ball of crystal, at others as a seal, “sinji.” Klaproth calls it a ball of greenstone with two small round holes. The three things go by the name of “Sanjioo no jinji.” During the long and bloody wars between the emperors of the north and south, in the sixteenth century, the former, who resided in Miako, and finally established himself on the throne, was not considered incontestably emperor until he obtained possession of these three sacred symbols. Though the emperor of the south was hard pressed, and almost a refugee in the mountains, he kept possession of them, and finally concluded a truce, delivering them up to his opponent, emperor de facto. On one occasion the three precious jewels were stolen, and after being kept several months were recovered or sent back. On several occasions they have narrowly escaped destruction by fire, and in the year 1040 A.D. the mirror was broken by the heat; but the pieces were recognized and placed together. Within the last few years (in 1851) they were again nearly exposed to a similar chance of destruction, but were saved by Hoongay Hashimoto, who brought them out at the risk of his life.

In Japan it is usual to perform a ceremony at the time when the boy assumes the toga virilis and becomes a man. The age at which this takes place is not settled, and seems to vary from the tenth to the fifteenth year. The eldest son of the Emperor undergoes this operation (known as “Gembuko”; Ch., “yuen fuh”) about the age of ten or eleven, when he, according to the custom, receives a new name. His hair is shaved off in the manner usual with men, and he assumes a dress. In all families the occasion is an important one, and in the case of the son of the Emperor, the heir-apparent, it becomes national. At the inauguration of the Emperor (according to Klaproth) his height is measured with a bamboo, which is deposited in one of the great temples in the province of Isse until his death, when it is removed to another, and revered as a spirit. With the bamboo of the reigning Emperor are deposited a straw-hat, a grass rain-mantle, and a spade, emblems of agriculture, held in Japan as an occupation second only to that of the soldier.

The Emperor is said to have his eyebrows shaved, and to blacken his teeth every morning, which operation is effected by a mixture of sulphate of iron and some astringent bark. The state dresses of the Emperor are generally of very rich strong silk of a bright green color. The shape, the color, the pattern are all fixed, and not left to choice. His under garments are of white silk, and called “mookoo”; and this is the part of his dress which he never wears twice. Besides being changed every morning, there are other occasions during the day in which necessity demands a change. These white silk dresses are the perquisites of one of the servants, and are sold by him in Miako. The Emperor always uses cold water for bathing. The cups which he uses for his meals are also broken; but when it is remembered that the Chinese and Japanese style of eating requires only one cup, and this perhaps not a very expensive one, the total does not amount to a large sum in the annual budget. He is said to devote his time to business matters, with discussions upon history, laws, and religion. In times past he has taken but little part in the business of the country; but his share in this is every year upon the increase, and he is courted by those who see in what direction political power is tending. The power of conferring titles and rank may have given him an amount of occupation and an acquaintance with mankind which would hardly leave him the nonentity he has generally been described. Twelve days of the month are set apart for conversations and discussions upon the history, laws, and religion of Japan. Such spare time as he has is devoted to the composition of poetry, with music and chess. The Emperor is supposed to move out of his palace and the grounds and gardens adjoining only twice a year—once during spring, and once in autumn—when he goes in a covered car, inclosed by semi-transparent screens of bamboo, drawn by large bullocks, to visit the environs of Miako. This procession is known as “Miyuki” or “Gokowo.”

On this state procession the Emperor is accompanied by all the high officers in Miako. He does not always strictly adhere to this rule of seclusion, however. Twenty-five years ago Kokaku was in the practice of walking about the town with his son, afterward Jin-ko, dressed like a common man. The excuse for this was that his palace was being rebuilt, after having been burned down. After the Emperor has abdicated no restrictions are placed upon him.

The Emperor, like the majority of his countrymen, is a vegetarian in his diet, and, in addition, eats only fish. At one time such animal food as venison was considered fit for royalty; but the story goes that the Emperor Ssu-jio heard one evening a doe crying plaintively for her mate. On the succeeding morning he came to the conclusion that some venison for his breakfast was the missing lover; and, ever since, venison has not been included among the dainties of the royal kitchen. In his time the Emperor and all his court began to wear the stiff-starched ample robes still used, and the long “kio” or train, which was introduced to prevent the feet of retreating courtiers being seen. On leaving the presence of the Emperor, officers walk backward on their knees.

Some writers have alleged that the Emperor is looked upon as a god, and that the people think that he goes in the eleventh month to the meeting of the spirits, the “kami.” This meeting is believed by the lower classes in Japan to take place during the eleventh month in the province of Idzumo, at the temple of Oyashiro, which temple is thus honored because the first spirit dwelt there. At this meeting the spirits arrange the sublunary and mundane business of Japan for the subsequent eleven months. The inhabitants of Idzumo call this month “Kami ari tski,” or the spirit month. All the other provinces call it “Kami nashi tski,” the month without spirits. The Emperor is supposed to be above all the kami or spirits, inasmuch as he can confer honors upon the dead; but he is not looked upon as above the “Tento sama,” or Lord of heaven, showing that a lower position is assigned to the kami (or “Shin” of the Chinese) than to the highest deity. But no one of any ordinary education in Japan believes that the Emperor goes to this meeting of spirits; these ideas, like many others similar in China, are only current among the least educated of the people. During this month, when the spirits are so occupied, none of those ceremonies in which their assistance must be invoked, such as marriages, adoptions, etc., takes place; no prayers are offered, as the spirits are supposed to be engaged. At this meeting they arrange all the marriages which are to take place during the ensuing year. Each individual in this world, male and female, is supposed to have a thread of existence, “yeng.” The spirits take the pairs of threads of those who are to be joined in matrimony and knot them together. So we speak of marriages being made in heaven while the hymeneal knot is tied on earth. From this the month is called “Yeng moosoobi tski”—i.e., Tie-the-knot month.

Abdication from positions of active life is very common among all ranks in Japan. No position seems to be more easily renounced than that of the occupation of the throne. In a country where the heir may have the misfortune to be brought up in the lap of luxury, and amid sensual excitements and indulgences of every kind, it is not surprising that the irksomeness of his position should make the holder sigh to be relieved from it, or that vigor of mind or body is only to be found in those cases where, the heir-apparent having been cut off, the successor has been adopted at a late period of his life, having been reared without the expectation of subsequent elevation. After the Emperor has abdicated he is named “Tai sho ten wo”—equivalent to “His most exalted and sacred Majesty.” At the present day, upon his taking this step, should he devote himself to religion and become “Fo wo,” his head is shaved, and he retires to a monastic life, and generally occupies the temple Ninaji or Omuro in the neighborhood of Miako.

The Japanese are unostentatious in their customs, and in the treatment of their great ones after death are singularly undemonstrative. Considering that all the rites connected with the dead are after the Buddhist ritual, and that the Chinese devote so much money and soil to the tombs and monuments of their ministers and great men and women, something of the same veneration might be expected in Japan. But, on the contrary, the tombs are generally very small unpretending structures, consisting of a basement, upon which a single stone is erected of no great size. Such is the tomb of Yoritomo, the great hero, in the neighborhood of Kamakura; and such, we are told, are the tombs of the emperors. They are covered over with a roofing of straw, to keep before their countrymen and subjects the remembrance of their primeval simplicity.

As to the succession to the throne, the laws or regulations in Japan do not seem to be very decided. The frequent abdication of the ruler gives the opportunity for securing that his successor shall have all the weight and assistance that the predecessor can give to overcome the pretensions of rival claimants. When the death of the Emperor has suddenly left the throne vacant, the eldest son is supposed to be the rightful heir. But when, as frequently has happened, his mind and body have been enfeebled by dissipation, and he has neither wit nor vigor to seize the reins of power, he has too often been supplanted by the ambition of a brother, or a wife of his father. When the Emperor leaves only a daughter, she is married to a member of the four imperial families, and her husband in that case becomes Emperor. In reality, the most powerful party about the court, when any difficulty occurs, puts in and supports the member of the imperial family most favorable to their continuing in power.

The genealogy of the Emperors is considered true and authentic as published in the Red Book of the empire; the pedigree of the Shiogoon is looked upon as made up. The former is to be found fully detailed from native sources in the works of Klaproth and Kæmpfer. The “Oon jo may rang” is the title of a small book giving the pedigrees and crests of the Emperor’s family, and of the koongays or nobility. Two crests or coats-of-arms are used by the Emperor—the one, “kiku,” for outside imperial government business, like the flower of a chrysanthemum, with sixteen petals; the other, the “kiri,” is used for the palace matters personal to the Emperor and his family. No notice seems to be taken of the common assumption of the imperial crest, but no one dares to use the crest of the Shiogoon except by permission.

The following sayings give some idea of the reverence with which the Emperor is spoken of: “Mikado ni ooji nashi,” is a saying to express that the Emperor is of no family. “Tenshi foo bo nashi”—“The Emperor has neither father nor mother.” “In heaven there is one sun, on earth there is one Emperor,” is a Confucian saying in accordance with the ideas of the country. “O wo wa jiu zenn, kami wa ku zenn”—“The power of the Emperor is as ten, that of the gods as nine”; implying that more reverence is due to the Emperor than to the lesser spirits, and that he has more power. “The Emperor all men respect, the Shiogoon all men fear.” “Heaven is his father, earth is his mother, his friends are the sun and moon.” Such ideas are taken from the Chinese classics.

The Emperor marries one wife, who is the Empress. He is allowed by the laws of the country to take twelve concubines, who are generally the daughters of the poorer nobility. The throne can be, and has frequently been, occupied by a female. The Emperor is supposed to receive, as an allowance from the Shiogoon, 100,000 kobangs, equal to $350,000 per annum. This he receives from the Yedo government, but he probably has a large revenue from land in the “Go ki nai” or “Go ka koku,” or five provinces. He is said to complain of the duties from foreign trade not being paid into his treasury, inasmuch as when the trade was conducted formerly by the Portuguese at Sakkye, the Emperor received the duties; but as Yokohama is out of the Gokinai, the Shiogoon prefers that the duties should flow to Yedo. These five provinces are frequently spoken of by the writers of the sixteenth century as the Tensee—heavenly or sacred soil. They are Yamashiro, Yamato, Setsu, Kaawdsio, and Idzumi. The whole empire is spoken of, as in China, as all under heaven—“Tenka.”

Two officers in the Emperor’s palace are appointed from Yedo—two Hattamoto, or inferior barons—to superintend the disbursement of money, and to keep accounts of the money paid by the Shiogoon’s government. These men have fifty soldiers under them. Under them are nine “Toritsungi,” generally men of some rank and position.

The Emperor’s own private establishment consists of the following officers:

1. Makanye Kashira, generally a Hattamoto, who keeps the accounts of the imperial table and pays the money.

2. Kye mon tskye, called “Kimsakye,” two Hattamoto, who go to buy the provisions for the palace.

3. Go zembang, six men, whose business is to examine the Emperor’s food.

4. Shuri siki, five men, to look after the buildings; generally Miako men of old families.

5. Makanye kata, six men, whose duty is to say what, and how much, is to be purchased for the palace.

6. Gim miakoo and Itamoto—of the former three, of the latter seventeen—head cooks and ordinary cooks.

7. Kangay bang, keepers of the keys, seven men.

8. Sosha bang, messengers.

9. Tskye bang or Kashira, three men, lower messengers.

These are all given in the official list as the ordinary household in daily attendance on the emperor.

After his death an honorific title is given to the deceased Emperor, by which he is subsequently known in history.

THE SHI SINWO, OR FOUR IMPERIAL FAMILIES

The “Shi sinwo” (“sz tsan wang”) are “four imperial relatives,” or royal families of Japan. This name denotes four families of imperial descent set apart, with allotted residences and revenues, as supporters to the imperial family. The families are cadets of the royal line descended from junior branches. From among the members of these four families, in case of failure of male heirs of the body, an heir to the throne, or a husband to the Princess Imperial, is to be sought.

In Japan all ranks are under laws more or less strict, and from such the imperial family does not escape. The succession to the throne, at all times an object in Eastern countries for daring ambition to aim at, and a fruitful source of revolution and misery to the people, is regulated and guarded in Japan on a basis wide enough to secure a succession, and preserved by such safeguards as to put it out of the power of collaterals to hope for success from intriguing ambition. One of these safeguards is supposed to be in the Emperor’s being allowed to take twelve concubines over and above his lawful wife, the Empress. These are generally daughters of men of high rank about the court, and the son of any one of them, if there is no son by the Empress, may succeed. If there be a daughter, she marries one of the members of these four families, and he becomes Emperor. Jinko, the father of the late Emperor, succeeded in this way. His father, Kokaku, was a member of the royal Kunnin family, and married the only daughter of the Emperor, and so became Emperor. He had a concubine, the daughter of Koongay Kwadjooji. The wife and the concubine had each one son. Satchay no mia was the son of the wife, and heir-apparent to the throne. But the concubine was a fierce, jealous woman, and determined that her son should succeed, and she poisoned Satchay. It was the duty of the Shiogoon’s envoy, Sakkye, to inquire into the reports that were circulating; and having done so, he discovered the truth, and put the concubine into confinement. But, though the Emperor was much distressed, he loved her too well and insisted on her being released. The government at Yedo heard of what had happened, and required the envoy to give his reasons for releasing her, when she had committed so heinous a crime. He committed suicide. Her son, Jinko, it is said, always paid the Empress the greatest respect, and would never see his own mother afterward.

But even with this wide matrimonial basis allowed to the Emperor, there may be a failure of heirs direct. These four families are therefore established as a further safeguard to the succession.

They take their names from collateral branches of the imperial house, being originally the families of younger sons of previous Emperors. At present there are only two families of Sinwo, two having become extinct by failure of heirs. They are, however, only dormant, as it is a part of the policy of the state that these families should be in existence, and it is in the power of the Emperor to put one of his sons into, as it were, the extinct family—that is, to call him by the name and give him the revenues belonging to the house, which revenues have been accruing until the family is re-established.

The four families are called collectively Shi (four) sin (relations) wo (imperial). The sons of these families are called Sinwo O’nkatta, or O’nkatta sama [O’nkatta is used as an address of respect to ladies, and also to Sinwo and high officers in personal attendance on the Emperor], and from these sons a successor to the Emperor may be taken.

The names of the four “families” are—1, Fusimi; 2, Arisungawa; 3, Katsura; 4, Kunnin. Of these the last two are the dormant houses. The revenues of these two houses are managed by factors or agents, and the fourth is said to be very wealthy.

The heads of the two existing families are:

1. Fusimi no mia, who has a nominal revenue of 1,016 koku[1] of rice; but he has probably twenty or thirty thousand koku. The present man is a Koboong of Jinko, the late Emperor.

This “boong” is a voluntary union between two persons, and is quite different from adoption. It is more of the character of a Masonic connection. In the relation of a child he is called Koboong; of a father, Oyaboong; of brothers or sisters, Kiodaiboong: and this connection is a very common tie between two individuals in Japan, as well as in China, to help and assist each other. It runs through all ranks and both sexes. It is a connection which may be as easily severed as it is made, but it is often strictly adhered to. It is generally made by drinking formally out of the same cup, each taking half of the liquor. It may be severed by cutting off the queue, or simply by formally intimating that it is at an end.

2. Arisungawa Nakatskasa no kio, or head of the Central Board. His nominal income is 1,000 koku, but his real revenue is much larger.

3. Katsura; the revenue is 3,006 koku.

4. Kunnin; the revenue is nominally 1,006 koku.

In these families there is generally a sufficient number from among whom to select a successor in case of the death, or what seems more common in Japan, the abdication and retirement, of the Emperor. But, at the same time, the arrangement has its disadvantages. It places a number of men and women of all ages in a very high position, with apparently no occupation for their leisure time. These men might become troublesome in the state by carrying on intrigues for their own advancement and for the gratification of their ambition. Within the last few years much disquietude has been caused by one of the Sinwo engaging in intrigues to upset the reigning Emperor. A means has been arrived at for at once giving these persons income, business, position, and at the same time getting them out of the way.

The Buddhist priesthood was at one time a very powerful element in the country. The number of priests was very great, and the revenues of the monasteries were enormous. By their wealth, and from among their vassals, they were able to keep up a respectable army; and not by their vassals alone—the priests themselves filled the ranks. The different sects built magnificent temples, and these were endowed with ample lands. Immediately before the period of the advent of the Christians in the sixteenth century, the power of the priesthood seems to have reached its highest point. Nobunanga, who at one time was inclined to favor the foreign priests, had always a great jealousy of, and bore a great ill-will to, the Buddhist priesthood. He destroyed their temples, killed their priests, and confiscated their revenues, and thus gave a blow to their power from which they have never recovered, and under which they are withering more and more every day.

In Japan, a man while a priest, after having shaved his head and taken the vows, is supposed to be out of the world, and it is then much easier to keep a certain amount of surveillance over him, and to see that he is attending to his duties, and is not engaged in political intrigues.

Of the larger Buddhist temples of different sects, fourteen are retained as having the largest revenues; and whenever a male member of the royal family is unprovided for he is put in as head abbot or bishop of one of these temples. They are generally appointed while children, and brought up to the position; and as the revenues of the office have thus time to accumulate, the reverend holder has sufficient for his wants and those of a respectable retinue. They are then called Sinwo Monzekke (Muntsih).

1. The first is Rinoji Monzekke, or abbot of Rinoji temple. The temple over which he is abbot is To yay zan, in Yedo. The first high-priest put into this was Koboong of Iyeyas, then Shiogoon. The revenue amounts to 13,000 koku of rice. The holder is of the Arisungawa family, and is of the first rank and second degree. He is known as “Kwan rayee no mia” (from the nengo, or date, of his appointment), and Yedo no mia or Ooyay no mia. In 1860 the incumbent was very old, and a boy, Gofutay, of the Fusimi family, was appointed assistant and successor.

2. The second is Ninaji no mia, otherwise called Omuro. The income is 1,502 koku. The incumbent is of the Fusimi family. He is head of the Singong sect, and was appointed to the office in 1843, when four years of age. To this temple the Emperor generally retires should he become a priest after abdication.

3. Dai Kakuji, otherwise called Sanga, is vacant.

4. Mio ho in, at Hiyayzan, a large temple near Miako. The Monzekke is of the Kunnin family. He is head of the Tendai sect of Buddhists, and is known as Tendai zass.

5. Sho ngo in no Monzekke is head of the Yamabooshi religion. He is of the Fusimi family, with an income of 1,430 koku. His temple is at Omine Honzan.

6. Sho ko in; vacant, but the revenues are held by No. 5.

7. Say ray in Monzekke: is known as Awata Mia. He is of the Fusimi family. The income is 1,330 koku.

8. Chi wong in Monzekke, of the Arisungawa family. The temple is in Miako, and he is the head of the Jodoshiu sect of Buddhists.

9. Kwajooji is vacant.

10. Itchi jo in Monzekke. The temple is in Narra, and is very old. Held by one of the house of Fusimi.

11. Kaji ee Monzekke, of the Tendai sect. Of the family of Fusimi, with an income of 1,600 koku.

12. Manjo in Monzekke is vacant.

13. Bissa mondo Monzekke is also vacant.

14. Emmang in Monzekke, commonly called Medora, in the province of Owomi, is also vacant.

All these bishoprics, as they may be called, are held, or may be held, by Sinwo or sons of Sinwo.

But as it is in many countries, both European and Eastern, as necessary and as difficult to dispose of the females of high families as the males, they also are in many cases provided for.

There are twenty-four temples or nunneries which are, or may be, under the superintendence of daughters or relatives of the four royal families.

1. Daijoji, in Miako; of this temple a daughter of the Emperor was formerly abbess.

2. Hokio ji.

3. Dan kay in.

4. Ko shio in.

5. Ray gan ji, held by one of the Fusimi family, who has the title of Nio-wo, or Queen of Nuns.

6. Yenshoji, in Narra, the ecclesiastical metropolis of Japan.

7. Rin kinji.

8. Chiu goji and sixteen others of lower class. Many of them are, however, unoccupied; partly, perhaps, from want of ladies of the royal family to fill them, and partly from failure of zeal for the Buddhist religion all over the country.

The laws with reference to the perpetuity of the vows of these priests and priestesses do not seem to be very strict, as we find that, when opportunity offers, the garb is thrown off, the hair is allowed to grow, and he or she mixes again in the world in whatever capacity their worldliness, their ambition, or their sense, has prompted them to desire.

It has been stated that the Emperor, as the fountain of honor, reserves to himself the sole right of conferring titles and rank. This reservation throws great political power into his hands, the acquisition of title and rank being, with rare exceptions, an object of the highest ambition to a Japanese. The amount of business connected with this power is great, and may be said to have been for many years the sole occupation for the Miako court. A special office and officers are set apart within the palace inclosure for carrying on the correspondence and settling disputes connected with the department.