This article was published in serial form in the Kokumin no tomo from the 23 of October to the 13th of December 1892.
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The world is in a state of constant progress. The great law of evolution, the survival of the fittest, is omnipresent. Heroes rise and fall, governments flourish and decline; individuals and institutions undergo ceaseless change. Thus, if one were to conclude that the three centuries of the early modern political system saw no change, material or spiritual, simply because its outward form appeared monotonous, one would be failing to grasp the great law of progress. Flowers bloom and wither even amidst the rain; the momentum of progress cannot be entirely held back, even by a political system. Let us, then, examine the material progress that took place during that time.
The Impact of Foreign Exchange (Part 1)
If one observes the extent to which foreign exchange has fostered progress in the lives of the Japanese people over the past three centuries, even the most extreme advocates of ‘expelling foreigners’ would ultimately be compelled to acknowledge the error of their views. (The following table is based on a ‘Chronology of Diplomatic History’ compiled by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and published in July 1884.
1541: Yoshida Sōkei returned from Ming China and transmitted medical techniques.
1542: The Portuguese came to Satsuma and presented firearms.
1550: A Portuguese ship arrived and presented a large cannon. The monk Ryōsai went to India and learned methods of leatherworking.
1555: A Portuguese man who arrived was sent to Ōmi Province where he taught the techniques of artillery.
1559: Matsunaga Hisahide began constructing a castle keep.
1566: Chinese people who had drifted ashore in Sagami transmitted medical techniques.
1576: Oda Nobunaga built a castle keep at Azuchi. A Chinese person transmitted the technique of making roof tiles.
1586: Hideyoshi ordered Chinese craftsmen to construct the temple complex of Hōkō-ji.
1591: Chinese artisans came to Sakai and wove figured silk.
1599: A Korean named A tō-ki came to Edo and constructed a Western-style ship.
1600: Seventeen Korean potter families entered Japan under Shimazu Yoshihiro.
1605: Sweet-potato varieties were introduced by Europeans.
1609: Gunmakers in Sakai cast large cannon.
1614: Weavers in Kyoto made Dutch-style textiles and began producing a type of textile.
1627: A merchant ship from Kokura reached Java and brought sungarā.
1634: The Ming monk Jojō came to Nagasaki and transmitted methods for constructing stone bridges, polishing gems, and making spectacles.
1643: Yoshida Yasukatsu went to Macao to study medicine. Kurisaki Dōki studied medicine in Luzon. A Dutch envoy presented a cannon and a military scholar.
1647: A certain Korean potter from Higashijima learned the technique of coloured glazing from Chinese people.
1648: An attempt was made to construct a Chinese-style ship. The An’aku-maru was built. Lighthouses were established at Uraga and Misaki.
1650: The Dutch were ordered to conduct exercises with large cannon.
1669: A certain person called Suetsugu was ordered to try building a Chinese-style ship.
1718: Shōgun Yoshimune personally made a surveying instrument for measuring latitude.
1719: Nishikawa Joken studied Western books.
1721: The Dutch demonstrated their artillery techniques.
1722: The Dutch were ordered to report on conditions in Europe and to present products from various regions.
1725: Katsuragawa Hoken was ordered to manufacture Western-style articles. The Dutch presented Persian horses and a person called Saitō was ordered to learn the techniques for handling them.
1726: Chinese people transmitted the method of producing ginseng and camphor. They also transmitted Chinese cavalry and archery techniques.
1730: Dutch horsemanship was put to the test.
1735: The shōgun observed the Dutch riding horses. Artisans in Nagasaki began transmitting Chinese techniques for carved cinnabar lacquer, gold-inlaid lacquer, coloured maki-e, and mother-of-pearl lacquerware.
1739: Aoki Kon’yō and others were ordered to study Dutch books.
1745: Aoki Kon’yō obtained sweet-potato plants and cultivated them on various islands in eastern Japan. He also requested permission from the authorities in Nagasaki to study Western books.
1759: Hiraga Gennai advocated the study of electricity.
1764: A person called Song from Tsushima presented Korean ginseng. He was ordered to take it to Nikkōzan.
1771: Sugita Genpaku began translating the Kaitai Shinsho (New Book of Anatomy).
1789: Shiba Kōkan began promoting oil painting and copperplate engraving.
1799: Chinese and Dutch medicinal plants were obtained and planted in Ezo.
1816: A certain Dutchman manufactured an air gun.
1826: Aoki Rinsō translated Kikai Kanran and Chigaku Seishū.
1827: Itō Keisuke began advocating the study of natural history.
1830: Adachi Chōjun was the first to advocate Western obstetrics.
1833: Udagawa Yōan wrote Shokugaku Keigen (Foundations of Botany).
1839: Udagawa Yōan wrote a book advocating the study of chemistry.
1840: Suzuki Shunsan wrote a book discussing the Western military system.
1843: Katai Kyōsuke created the ‘pill lock’ mechanism for matchlocks.
1844: Kasaku Shōgo translated Kon’yō Zushiki (a work on world geography]. Nagai Seigai wrote Bankoku Tenchi Hōzu, a geographical atlas/map of the world.
1847: Kawamoto Kōmin wrote Kikai Kanran Kōgi, (Expanded Explanation of Kikai Kanran).
1848: Sakuma Shōzan studied Western-style war artillery.
1849: The Dutch began introducing vaccination against smallpox (cowpox vaccination).
While this table presents facts, it alone is insufficient to fully convey to the reader the extent to which foreign relations have transformed the material landscape of our country; therefore, some further explanation is warranted. Indeed, it is a striking fact that many of the daily necessities and food items used by the Japanese people today were introduced from abroad in modern times. To begin with, the seeds of the cotton plant, which provided the raw material for the clothing predominantly worn by the common people, were brought to Kyushu during the Bunroku era by the Portuguese (then referred to as ‘Southern Barbarians’). When it finally spread across the entire Japanese archipelago, it inevitably dealt a significant shock to, and brought about a transformation for, producers of silk and hemp fabrics. Although no historical records remain to detail the exact nature of the ensuing competition, it is not difficult to envision the scene: landscapes once defined by mulberry groves giving way to a land of cotton, and women shifting their livelihoods to the spinning of cotton fiber.
According to the ‘Engishiki’, the twelve provinces of Ise, Mikawa, Ōmi, Mino, Tajima, Mimasaka, Bizen, Bitchū, Bingo, Aki, Kii, and Awa are classified as ‘upper-tier silk-producing provinces’; the twenty-five provinces of Iga, Owari, Tōtōmi, Wakasa, Echizen, Kaga, Noto, Echigo, Tanba, Tango, Inaba, Hōki, Izumo, Harima, Nagato, Sanuki, Iyo, Tosa, Chikuzen, Chikugo, Hizen, Higo, Buzen, Bungo, and Hyūga are classified as ‘middle-tier silk-producing provinces’; and the eleven provinces of Suruga, Izu, Kai, Sagami, Musashi, Shimōsa, Hitachi, Shinano, Kōzuke, and Shimotsuke are classified as ‘lower-tier silk-producing provinces’.
Across the more than sixty provinces of Japan, there were forty-eight that produced silk, a testament to the industry’s flourishing state. Although the situation underwent many changes over time, by the middle of the Edo period, the number of silk-producing provinces had dropped drastically; they were reduced to a mere fifteen: Ōmi, Mino, Hida, Owari, Kōzuke, Shimotsuke, Mutsu, Dewa, Wakasa, Echizen, Kaga, Musashi, Kai, Tango, and Tajima. This decline was largely driven by competition from cotton. One can well imagine the sentiments of the common people as they turned away from expensive silk fabrics or coarse, skin-irritating hemp cloth in favor of cotton, a material that was both affordable and comfortable against the body.
The cotton seeds introduced by a native of the Kingdom of Kunru in the eighteenth year of the Enryaku era (during the reign of Emperor Kanmu) unfortunately failed to meet the needs of the common people, as lamented in the poem noting that the seeds planted by the foreigner did not take root in the land of Yamato. Yet, the wheel of fortune turned, and the cultivation of cotton eventually flourished. Countless people were saved from freezing to death thanks to it; now, warm clothing graces even the humblest thatched-roof cottages. Scenes such as those captured in the verses of later poets, ‘South of Naniwa lies Hirano; the west wind blows across the land of white cotton; the road winds through wildflowers toward Kii Province’, were beyond the wildest dreams of the Japanese people prior to the Bunroku era.
If the reader considers that the rivalry between cotton and silk affected the interests of the common people even more profoundly than the Battle of Sekigahara did the Eastern and Western armies, they can gauge the extent to which our foreign relations impacted the lives of the common folk. Admittedly, the history of Japan has been one of warriors and aristocrats rather than of the people, and such matters were often dismissed as mere anecdotes; yet, if it is the duty of a Japanese historian to portray the true state of the Japanese people, surely these circumstances demand a detailed account.
Ever since Tokugawa Iemitsu established the policy of national isolation during the Kan’ei era, public sentiment in Japan gradually shifted toward a sense of self-respect and pride. Just as an individual who shuts their doors and shares nothing with others cultivates a certain air of haughty superiority, it is hardly surprising that a nation which holds no intercourse with foreign lands should develop a tendency toward self-aggrandizement and exclusionism.
Indeed, even Arai Hakuseki, a man of insight far superior to his contemporaries, concluded that Japan was self-sufficient in every respect and had no need to rely on other nations for supplies. He argued that the Lord of Heaven and Earth endowed the five regions with specific natural properties, each suited to the people living there; thus, the people of every nation should rely on the medicinal herbs native to their own lands. He was refuting the earlier view held by the monk Kenkō, who had insisted that foreign sources were indispensable for medicinal remedies, by contending that domestic products were entirely sufficient. Is it not a curious irony that, while the Japanese people were rejecting foreign goods, those very goods were taking hold amongst the Japanese people?
Until the era of the Shogun Yoshimune, the sugar consumed by the Japanese people was imported entirely from China; it was only after that time that the cultivation of sugar cane and the domestic production of sugar began. The practice of using sugar to alleviate famine in the Kanto provinces emerged only as Yoshimune was nearing the end of his life, having originally been introduced to Satsuma from the Ryukyu Islands.
It was after Arai Hakuseki had passed away that the cultivation of potatoes, encouraged during the Meiwa era by Nakai Seitarō, the magistrate of Kōshū, spread to the provinces of Hida, Echigo, Kōzuke, Shimotsuke, and Musashi, ultimately saving the people of Hida from starvation during the Great Famine of the Tenpō era; thus, this was a development of which he remained unaware. Yet today, the sweet potato is embraced by the common people as a most delicious foodstuff, found roasted and sold in every corner of the land, and the potato, too, frequently graces our dining tables; the immense benefit that these crops, introduced from abroad, have brought to our common people is a fact so clear that it cannot be denied.
The Impact of Foreign Relations (Part 2)
Prior to the ‘national isolation’ policy of the Kan’ei era, foreign relations did more than merely supply Japan with beneficial raw materials; they also taught our people manufacturing techniques, civil engineering, the cultivation of new crops, and even methods of tailoring clothing. The majestic castles that rose across the more than sixty provinces, towering like clouds, were built using architectural styles originally adopted from abroad. In this respect, it can be said that our people acquired the means for both offense and defense from foreign sources; after all, the powerful firearms used to besiege such castles were also introduced from overseas. Kato Kiyomasa, a commander so formidable he was known as a “Demon General” whose martial fame extended even to Korea, and a man of both outward valor and inner sagacity, was renowned in his time for retaining a retainer named Iida Kakubei, a master of castle construction.
If one travels along the Tōkaidō and catches glimpses of Nagoya Castle rising amidst the landscape, or journeys to Kumamoto and beholds the magnificent sight of the castle, famous for the ‘Ginkgo Tree’ legend associated with Kiyomasa, one cannot fail to be struck by the grandeur of the architecture. Furthermore, reflecting on the fact that these structures were conceived by the Kato clan only deepens one’s respect for Kiyomasa.
Since the introduction of firearms into our country, the nature of military formations has undergone a complete transformation. Soldiers now require a certain level of technical proficiency, while the need for the kind of individual valor seen in close-quarters combat has steadily declined. We no longer witness the battle scenes described in chronicles like the Genpei Seisuiki, where a commander would personally plunge into the fray, and his loyal retainers and warriors would rally around their lord to die fighting by his side. The relationship between commander and soldier has shifted from one based on personal bonds of loyalty and affection to one defined by discipline.
As the relationship between commander and soldier evolved into one defined by strict discipline, the gap between them steadily widened. The need for soldiers to possess specialized skills led to a reduction in their numbers but an increase in their individual combat effectiveness; consequently, commoners not on the military rolls became incapable of mounting an effective offensive against a military force. Furthermore, with the advent of fortifications featuring high walls and deep moats, daimyo no longer had to fear an uprising and attack by the common populace. It was precisely upon this strategic foundation that the Tokugawa political regime was built.
Without the strategic vision of Ieyasu, it would have been impossible to maintain three centuries of peace. Viewed in this light, one could say that the Tokugawa administrative system was sustained by castles and firearms; ultimately, however, that political order was itself a product of foreign relations. Such diplomacy not only revolutionized military organization and altered the layout of castle towns but also led the people of our coastal regions to construct large sailing vessels and navigate the open seas. A mere 114 years after Columbus crossed the Atlantic and discovered the Americas, specifically around the turn of the Keichō era (circa 1610–1611), Tanaka Shōsuke, a merchant from the capital, crossed the Atlantic from the opposite direction and arrived in Mexico.
A mere 101 years after Magellan’s ships completed their circumnavigation of the globe via the Atlantic, Hasekura Rokuemon, a retainer of Date Masamune, set sail from the China Sea and likewise completed a voyage around the world. From this fact alone, one can imagine the extent of the maritime power our nation wielded at the time. Whenever I reflect on the scenes of that era, with ‘Vermillion Seal Ships’ traveling to and from the East and West Indies and the islands of Southeast Asia to engage in trade, I am invariably stirred to the very core of my being. Were our historians to examine the lives of our people closely, they would undoubtedly find traces of the influence wrought by the diplomacy of that period, even in the present day.
According to Arai Hakuseki, the ‘kappa’, the raincoat we use to shield ourselves from the rain, is actually modeled after the clerical robes of missionaries. If this is indeed the case, then the influence of foreign relations on Japanese customs surely did not begin merely with the ‘short-haired women’ of the Meiji era. Furthermore, dishes known today as ‘negi-nanban’ and ‘kamo-nanban’, as their very names suggest, must have originated from Western culinary techniques introduced to Japan. Reflecting on this, one realizes that the influence of foreign relations permeates every nook and cranny; like water soaking into an object, its effects are manifest everywhere.
Unfortunately, the Tokugawa clan’s policy of national isolation sought to cut off the Japanese people from the powerful, surging currents of the global era. Yet, the tide of civilization was something that could never be stemmed by artificial barriers. Nagasaki served as the vital conduit through which this unbroken stream of civilization flowed into the country. Medicine, astronomy, the physical and chemical sciences, and military strategy, all entered Japan through this channel. Just as conspiracies unfold beneath the surface of oppressive rule, global civilization, despite the constraints of the isolationist policy, exerted a subtle yet profound influence on the nation, quietly and imperceptibly fostering the advancement of our culture and institutions.
Policies of Daimyo to Enrich Their Territories
Zhao Yi, in his discussion of Wang Anshi’s ‘Green Sprouts’ policy, noted that when Wang Anshi first served as a county magistrate, he lent grain to the people, requiring repayment with interest and facilitating the exchange of old grain for new; the people found this highly convenient. Wang Anshi was a man of integrity, and when he implemented this measure in that single county, it brought benefit to the people without causing harm. Thus, even regarding Wang Anshi’s ‘Green Sprouts’ policy, which ultimately threw the entire realm into chaos, it is acknowledged that its initial implementation in a single county was beneficial. Zhao Yi concluded that there are indeed matters in this world which, when carried out by a single individual, yield benefits, yet when implemented across the entire realm, result in harm. Whenever we observe the successes achieved by daimyo who grappled with systems of economic intervention and protectionism, we realize that the secret to their success lies in this very principle.
During the Tokugawa era, the daimyo held sway over territories created by dividing the more than sixty provinces of Japan into over two hundred and sixty domains. In terms of their absolute authority, including the power of life and death over their subjects, the situation resembled a confederation of over two hundred and sixty kingdoms that, while acknowledging the Emperor, looked to the Tokugawa clan as their leader. However, when considering the actual extent of their territorial bases, with the exception of the so-called ‘Sanke’ (Three Houses) and the eighteen ‘Kokushu’ (daimyo who held more than one province) families, namely the Maeda of Kaga, Date of Mutsu, Shimazu of Satsuma, Matsudaira of Echizen, Hosokawa of Higo, Asano of Aki, Mōri of Nagato, Nabeshima of Hizen, Ikeda of Inaba, Ikeda of Bizen, Hachisuka of Awa, Yamauchi of Tosa, Arima of Kurume, Satake of Akita, Matsudaira of Izumo, Uesugi of Yonezawa, Kuroda of Fukuoka, and Tōdō of Ise, the domains they governed ranged in size from merely a few districts to as little as half a district.
Even the greatest of the provincial daimyo held domains that spanned, at most, two or three provinces. Thus, while these daimyo may have wielded power akin to that of a monarch in one respect, viewed from another perspective, they were nothing more than large-scale landowners.
Thus, we can understand why the policies for national enrichment adopted by daimyo, who rose to prominence under the Tokugawa political system, met with success. They were not meddling in the affairs of others; they were managing their own private concerns. When they encouraged, inspired, directed, and commanded the people of their domains to boost production, they were not intervening in the lives of the populace as a government might; rather, they were directing their tenant farmers in the capacity of great landowners. Unlike modern governments, which attempt to promote private enterprise solely through laws and authority, these daimyo often acted as capitalists themselves, directly engaging in the ventures.
Furthermore, unlike modern governments, which tend to oversee broad outlines while leaving the details to others, these daimyo were in a position to supervise every aspect of the work, whether major or minor. Consequently, whenever an enlightened and capable ruler set out to enrich the domain, the undertaking could easily be brought to fruition.
The Seitetsu Nōdan (Discourses on Agriculture by Sages of Old) records the story of Nonaka Den’emon, a senior retainer of the Tosa domain, who brought back a quantity of clams from Edo and released them into the waters near Kochi Castle, an act that ultimately established them as a renowned local specialty of Tosa. Such undertakings were not unusual at the time; indeed, many daimyo vied to carry out similar projects. A notable example is Tokugawa Mitsukuni of Hitachi, a man who astonished his contemporaries with feats such as compiling the Dai Nihonshi (Great History of Japan), composing the epitaph for Kusunoki Masashige, and performing eccentric deeds. He obtained original stock from Musashi and introduced various marine species into his domain: icefish into Lake Sakanuma; sea cucumbers and abalone into the waters off Hiraiso Village in Naka District; wakame off Isohama Village in Higashi-Ibaraki District; and clams into Lake Kashima, resources upon which the local people still rely to this day.
An investigation into the lineages of products transplanted to various regions by daimyo or their people would yield a fascinating chart. For instance, if one were to trace the origins of pearls from Ise, Omura, and Satsuma, all of which ultimately derive from Toba in Shima, the story of their branching development and varying fortunes would undoubtedly provide us with valuable insights.
There were essentially four primary motives that drove these daimyo to cultivate such products within their respective domains.
1. Financial Difficulties
It is an undeniable fact that many daimyo, the high-ranking nobility of the Tokugawa era, fell into deepening financial straits. They incurred substantial expenses for the ‘alternate attendance system’ and vied with one another in the splendor of their social interactions; they purchased rare artifacts and swords and felt compelled to reciprocate lavishly whenever they were entertained sumptuously by other houses. As the times progressed, so did their lifestyles; they exhausted their territories’ wealth on travel and social obligations, often reaching a point where their financial ruin was irreversible, short of some extraordinary, explosive upheaval.
2. Competition in Governance
It has been aptly said that politics under the Tokugawa system resembled a passing summer shower, where one domain might bask in clear blue skies and bright sunshine, while another lay shrouded in dark clouds and gloom. Yet, this description merely highlights the fact that daimyo ruled independently over their respective territories, holding absolute power over the lives and deaths of their subjects. A closer examination reveals that Tokugawa politics was not merely a collection of disjointed, isolated entities; rather, the prevailing trends and spirit of the times flowed freely across the boundaries of the various domains. Thus, when an enlightened ruler emerged in one domain to reform its administration and spread the benefits of virtuous governance, leaders in other domains would inevitably rise to the challenge, vying to match or surpass those achievements. A successful administrative model adopted by one domain would serve as a template for others, eventually spreading throughout the realm. The only difference was that, unlike under the centralized ‘gunken’ system, such reforms could not be implemented simultaneously across the entire nation.
3. The Development of Confucianism
If the Kamakura period was an era when Buddhism was intimately bound up with politics, then the Tokugawa period must be characterized as an era when Confucianism and politics were closely allied. Once the Genna and Kan’ei eras brought a complete end to warfare across the realm, Confucianism became deeply assimilated with the way of the warrior, and the governance of the warrior class came to be fundamentally grounded in Confucian principles. Consequently, the ideal of the ruler as the ‘parent of the people’ began to be realized in practice. Daimyo sought to ensure the prosperity of the people’s agriculture; they established regulations regarding forests, mountains, rivers, and marshes to prohibit indiscriminate or illegal logging; they strove to guarantee that the populace lacked neither food nor clothing; and they recognized it as their duty to instruct the people in the virtues of filial piety and loyalty. Thus, capable rulers throughout the land endeavored to put these principles into practice.
The politics of the warrior class came to be fundamentally grounded in the principle of prioritizing the people’s welfare. Under this ethos, the ideal of the ruler as a ‘parent to the people’ was gradually realized in practice; it was held that a daimyo ought to look after the people’s agriculture, regulate the use of forests and waterways to prevent indiscriminate or illicit logging, ensure the populace lacked neither food nor clothing, and instruct them in the virtues of sincerity and loyalty, and thus, capable rulers sought to put this principle into action.
4. The desire to secure all necessary goods within one’s own domain.
Beyond the three motives already mentioned, there was another major factor driving daimyo to devote themselves so earnestly to policies for enriching their domains: the desire to obtain all essential supplies from within their own territories. This was an inevitability in an era of political fragmentation. Although a long peace had prevailed, the tendency toward regional separatism persisted unchanged; the delusions fostered during the Warring States period lingered on, refusing to vanish, much like the ghostly wailing that haunts an old, dilapidated mansion.
The daimyo and their retainers were governed by the belief that purchasing domestic goods, even at high prices, was a sounder economic strategy for the state than buying cheaper goods from other lands; consequently, they endeavored to manufacture famous foreign products within their own territories and to introduce foreign crops and industries there. They spared no effort in studying the resources of other regions and attempting to transplant them into their own domains.
In times of crop failure or famine, rulers and their retainers were admonished against the comforts of an easy life and urged to focus on industry and the accumulation of reserves; likewise, regarding threats such as river flooding or fertile soil being ruined by drifting sands, administrators were compelled to remain vigilant in maintaining forests and embankments. Such measures, whether taken individually or in combination, made the daimyo realize the imperative of devising strategies to enrich their territories and spurred them to foster material progress. What manner of people, then, were responsible for implementing these policies for national enrichment?
1. Daimyo Centered
Naturally, the daimyo themselves inevitably stood at the center of affairs; given that their territorial bases were extremely limited in size, their personal influence extended fully, and indeed abundantly, across their territories. Consequently, when capable daimyo positioned themselves as the focal point of their administration and engaged directly with the populace, the people readily grew accustomed to them and yielded to their authority. There is a story from the Hikone domain illustrating this: at a time when warriors and commoners alike were vying to outdo one another in the extravagance of their attire, an ancestor of the Ii clan grew concerned by this trend. Upon returning to the domain from Edo, he required his entire retinue to wear simple cotton garments; the domain retainers, who had come out to greet him along the road dressed in silk, were struck with a mixture of shame and awe, and the customs of the land were promptly transformed.
Uesugi Harunori of Yonezawa, deeming it disrespectful to directly tread upon an embankment that his retainers had built with their own hands, would, during his inspections, raise his hands to the structure in a gesture of reverence; the local people were moved to tears by this act. Indeed, such instances represent the application of personal influence to governance, and the ebb and flow of this influence played a crucial role in the success or failure of the undertakings.
2. Strategists and Key Advisors of the Era
The governance of the daimyo lay in the hands of their chief retainers; even if a daimyo were wise, his undertakings would fail if his chief retainer were foolish. Thus, great achievements were invariably realized through the mutual cooperation of daimyo and minister. Just as the moon orbits the Earth, an enlightened ruler is always accompanied by a wise minister. Hori Katsuna aided Hosokawa Shigekata of Kumamoto, while Kumazawa Ryōsuke assisted Ikeda Mitsumasa of Bizen. The Yamauchi clan of Tosa was aided by Nonaka Kenzan and Ogura Sanshō; the Sanada clan of Shinano by Onda Moku; and Uesugi Harunori by Takemata Masatsuna. Such rulers and retainers found in one another a bond as vital as that between fish and water, and through this union, great undertakings were brought to fruition. Yet, serving beneath these senior retainers were others who offered counsel and advice. Some had grown old tending the fields and were deeply versed in agriculture, while others had matured amidst the market stalls, well-acquainted with the ways of commerce; in short, regarding any enterprise intended to foster prosperity, they possessed a profound, practical understanding of the realities on the ground. Without such individuals, even the most capable of rulers and retainers would likely have failed to achieve their great successes.
3. Yotatsu
The ‘yōtatsu’ (official commercial agents) held a remarkably high status in the society of that time. Even within a hōken social structure that placed a premium on the warrior class while disparaging commoners, this specific class of agents was treated with considerable respect. In an era when the distinction between the warrior class and the common people was strictly enforced, these agents, despite their status as commoners, were permitted privileges such as wearing the two swords of the warrior, using a surname, and enjoying a rank equivalent to that of a ‘local magistrate’. Senior retainers who would not grant an audience to low-ranking warrior or who, even when official business required a meeting, would converse only from across a partition, would sit knee-to-knee and speak directly with the yōtatsu.
These agents were sometimes permitted to view the inner gardens of the nobility, areas ordinarily off-limits to common retainers, and were occasionally even engaged to handle private commissions. The reason for the high regard in which they were held is clear: they were the creditors, and the daimyo their debtors. As commerce flourished in the capital, a class of wealthy townspeople gradually emerged, and the daimyo found themselves compelled to borrow money from these individuals.
Consequently, those possessing financial means frequented the estates of the daimyo to serve as their commercial agents, making the lending of money to these daimyo their primary business. To put it in modern terms, the daimyo were great landowners, while the commercial acted as banks lending them capital; without such banks, the landowners would have had no source of funds, and without the commercial agents, they would have been unable to launch their enterprises. By what methods, then, did the daimyo implement their policies for enriching their domains?
1. Negative Measures
To enforce the principles of diligence and frugality, daimyo repeatedly issued decrees interfering in the daily lives of their subjects. Examples include Matsudaira Sadayoshi of Kuwana, who forbade even his senior retainers from wearing silk except when going out, requiring all classes of people to wear cotton instead; or a certain daimyo in the Chūgoku region who mandated that the wives of senior retainers use navy-blue parasols, while locals used white parasols with navy borders and commoners used plain white ones. All such measures were adopted as part of policies promoting thrift. Particular emphasis was placed on the enforcement of measures to curb extravagance.
2. Positive Measures
Measures concerning land management: planting forests to replenish water sources; creating tree lines to block drifting sand; constructing bridges, embankments, and waterways; and building reservoirs and drainage systems to manage water flow.
Measures concerning domestic products: introducing products from other regions or emulating their manufacturing methods; prohibiting the shoddy production of local goods while encouraging high-quality craftsmanship; and rewarding those who contribute significantly to industry. Examples include Uesugi Harunori encouraging the cultivation of lacquer and pine trees within his domain; the Awa Domain establishing a state monopoly on indigo; and the Kumamoto Domain actively promoting the cultivation of wax trees.
The Development of a Great Metropolis
Kyoto was not merely the seat of the imperial court and a religious capital; it was a place that anyone traveling by land, from itinerant merchants, pilgrims, and wandering monks to traveling poets, was inevitably bound to pass through on their way to the capital from the domains of the western daimyo. Consequently, it remained a thriving metropolis even into the Tokugawa era.
Yet, when compared to Osaka, Kyoto paled into insignificance. Osaka had originally been the stronghold of the Hongan-ji temple; however, the hero Toyotomi Hideyoshi recognized the strategic advantages of its location and relocated his seat of government there. The city subsequently flourished; benefiting from excellent maritime access, it became the hub of Japanese commerce, gathering goods from east and west for redistribution and effectively commanding the nation’s economic power. Consequently, ships from Settsu plied the coasts of various provinces to conduct trade, while financial mechanisms, such as money-changing services and systems for handling bills of exchange, emerged early on from this environment, facilitating the circulation of capital.
Edo was, from the outset, less developed than Osaka. Its merchant class originated with settlers from places such as Kyoto, Osaka, Sakai, Fushimi, Sunpu, and Odawara; furthermore, regarding maritime transport, reliance was generally placed on overland routes until the introduction of cargo shipping services during the Shoho era. However, as commerce advanced over time and the city gradually expanded, the area, once a quiet, secluded locale that inspired Ota Dokan to compose a poem about his hermitage standing near a pine grove, far from the sea, with the towering peak of Mt. Fuji visible from the eaves, transformed into a bustling metropolis. By the eighth year of the Kyoho era, it had grown to comprise 1,672 town blocks and 15,577 households, with a population of 565,482 (excluding warriors and Buddhist monks). Kyoto and Osaka represent the region known as Kamigata, while Edo represents Kanto; yet, one observes significant differences in the customs of their townspeople. A text published in the ninth month of the third year of Kyōhō states the following:
Differences Between Kyoto and Edo
People in Kyoto often appear gentle on the surface but are guarded and inscrutable at heart. While there is some logic to the Edo mindset, there are also aspects where the Edo style falls short. Regarding trends, Edo is quick to adopt them, whereas Kyoto is slow to follow suit; when I visited Kyoto after a ten-year absence, I noticed features, such as narrow obi sashes and long ‘kogai’ hair ornaments, that had been fashionable in Edo long ago but seemed to persist there unchanged. Furthermore, the hairstyles of the mistress and the maidservant were by no means identical. Regarding the practice of covering one’s head, done to avoid standing out among travelers on the road, ordinary people wear hats, while those outside townhouses wear head-coverings. Even nuns invariably wear hats so as not to expose their heads. A man named Yamashita Sōemon, who traveled from Kyoto to Edo, was astonished to see a nun who wore no head-covering and was dressed in a ‘haori’ (short coat); he found the sight of a woman wearing only a hand towel on her head to be utterly inconceivable. Such is the strict observance of custom here. When asking a stranger on the road to share a light for one’s tobacco by touching the bowls of their pipes together, the proper etiquette is to pinch off a small portion of one’s own tobacco, offer it to the other person, and then receive the light. While this might seem like a trivial detail, it is likely considered a sign of vulgarity to neglect such niceties. However, the general ethos is that causing another person even the slightest loss, not even the cost of a single puff of tobacco, is contrary to one’s principles. Consequently, accounts are settled precisely, down to the last ‘sen’; payments are made and collections are handled promptly. In contrast, people from Edo might, depending on the situation, fail to pay a sum of around a hundred ‘mon’ even if they have the funds on hand; they do not regard such a loss as significant, and the other party does not take it to heart either, so the matter is often simply forgotten. People from Kyoto, however, view an outstanding payment of even a hundred ‘sen’, money that is due but has not arrived, as a sign that the debtor lacks a sense of propriety; they will press for payment, reflecting a fundamental incompatibility in their respective temperaments.
Setting aside other matters for the moment, if we trace the root causes of the striking contrast between the Edo native’s utter nonchalance regarding money and the Kamigata native’s meticulous prudence, we are compelled to attribute this difference to the fact that the latter received a grounding in commoner life from an early age, whereas the former was raised in an aristocratic milieu. Edo was, in truth, an aristocratic capital. To begin with the layout of the city itself: the streets are a complex tangle, lacking the orderly, grid-like regularity of Kyoto or Osaka, a design so well-suited to commercial markets, while the sheer number of canals in Osaka is enough to startle the eye.
Warriors, wearing their customary two swords, frequently moved about the city. Edo merchants conducted their business with warrior families as their primary clientele. Even the somewhat wealthier among them, much like middle-class families today who send their daughters to girls’ schools, would place their daughters in service within warrior households to learn proper etiquette and manners before eventually marrying them off. Born into such an environment and dealing with warriors who were often unversed in financial matters, it is hardly surprising that the people of Edo were so nonchalant about money. In contrast, the merchants of the Kamigata region could not afford such an attitude; their livelihoods depended on shippers, businessmen from the provinces, and they were compelled to calculate their profits with meticulous precision.
They were taught only that the way to amass wealth lay in accumulating small amounts to build something great. This is what distinguished the natives of the Kamigata region from those of Edo. In truth, the people of Edo lagged far behind their Kamigata counterparts in understanding the genuine path to wealth creation; a native of Edo could simply never become a truly skilled merchant. Consequently, while Edo certainly made great strides in accumulating wealth, its commercial development, in the purest sense, was inevitably forced to trail behind that of Osaka.
Let us examine the state of commerce across the ‘Three Capitals’ (Edo, Osaka, and Kyoto). The hōken system exerted its influence on every aspect of life, and it was inevitable that urban commerce would largely take the form of monopolies. Consequently, the ‘tonya’ (wholesale merchants) of the era largely monopolized the flow of goods; operating beneath them were brokers whose numbers were strictly limited, leaving little room for free trade. The distribution of goods relied on four key players: the consignor, the wholesaler, the broker, and the retailer. Wholesalers were typically based in the cities, while consignors would lend capital to brokers, often under contracts requiring the brokers to sell exclusively to them in return, thereby securing a position of exclusive buying and selling power.
At that time, wholesale merchants wielded considerable power; they occupied the upper echelons of commoner society, holding themselves in high esteem and commanding respect from the public. It was not uncommon for them to act high-handedly, frequently sparking disputes with shippers and brokers. They often refused even to sit at the same table as brokers. Consequently, goods from across the country converged on major cities, where they were absorbed by these wholesalers. The monopolistic practices of these wholesalers gave rise to numerous abuses; for instance, they would withhold information about actual market conditions from shippers, leading to the production of goods that defied the fundamental laws of supply and demand, or drive prices down so drastically that they effectively destroyed the shippers’ productive capacity.
However, at a time when transportation was inconvenient and conditions in different regions were isolated from one another, it was highly beneficial for wholesalers, who sat at the nation’s commercial crossroads and understood the ebb and flow of trade, to facilitate the movement of goods. This was especially true given that wholesalers functioned much like a type of industrial banker, offering the convenience of lending capital to the consignors.
The Shogunate adopted varying policies depending on the times and circumstances, such as collecting special levies from these wholesalers in exchange for protecting their monopoly rights or intervening in response to public complaints before ultimately reaffirming that protection, yet its stance consistently leaned toward safeguarding them. This is the origin of the so-called ‘kabu’ (guild membership shares) held by Edo merchants.
A metropolis cannot exist in isolation; it must maintain vital economic connections with the regions. As a city flourishes, its economic mechanisms inevitably continue to evolve. The immense expansion of the metropolis is underpinned by a robust commercial network. The city prospers through its relationship with the regions, and the regions, in turn, prosper through their relationship with the city. The rapid accumulation of wealth in Edo and Osaka stands as a testament to the tremendous material progress achieved during that era.
An Inner View of the City
Let us briefly look at the inner workings of the city.
Although the town of Edo was a complex tangle, a clear distinction generally existed between the residences of the warrior class and those of the commoners; the principle, as described by Guanzi, of separating the “four classes” of society was largely observed in practice. With regard to the dwellings of the commoners, a hierarchy prevailed: those living along the main thoroughfares held the highest status, those in the side streets ranked in the middle, and those in the back-alley tenements or newly opened lanes occupied the lowest tier.
Moving from a back-alley shop to a side-street location, and then to a main-street frontage, represents a progression from darkness to light and from poverty to affluence; it is a shift from a drab, chaotic environment to one of order. Conversely, closing a main-street shop to relocate to a side street is a sign of decline, while moving from a side street to a back alley marks an even greater fall. Many of those who own shops on the main street are wealthy. Typically, they maintain their residence and place of business side by side, with a sturdy earthen storehouse built on the premises to safeguard household valuables and merchandise. If the property is spacious enough, they may also construct a separate retirement cottage or a tearoom, spaces where elderly family members can enjoy their leisure, the master can spend his free time, or friends can be entertained. Furthermore, they employ numerous men and women, training them in the intricacies of both domestic affairs and commerce.
Those who learn the trade within the shop are known as bantō’ (head clerks), and most are men who have already passed their prime. Having served in their master’s household since childhood and successfully navigated the perilous years of youth, fraught with temptation and pitfalls, they have finally risen to the position of bearing the heavy responsibility of managing the household’s finances. Consequently, the master holds the ‘bantō’ in high regard; everyone in the household, men and women alike, treats them with constant respect. A ‘bantō’ who takes a wife and lives in a separate home, yet travels back and forth morning and evening to oversee the shop, is known as a ‘kayoi-bantō’ (commuting head clerk). Such a man is an elder among the clerks, and his relationship with the master’s family is akin to that of a relative.
Young men served under the ‘bantō’ were known as ‘tedai’ or ‘wakana’. There were also boys, known as ‘denchi’ (apprentices), who ran errands; in most households, these apprentices were first assigned domestic chores before moving on to commercial duties. Young women were employed to serve the master, the mistress, or the elderly members of the household. There were also women assigned to kitchen duties and others tasked primarily with sewing; collectively, they were referred to as ‘jochū’ (maids). Additionally, men were employed for manual labor such as sweeping the garden, pounding rice, and tending the cooking fires. The total number of people in the household was by no means small; indeed, a historian from another country observing this arrangement would likely marvel at the lavishness with which the Japanese employed domestic staff.
There were also those who gravitated around these great merchant houses—much like planets orbiting a sun, forming a class known as ‘deiri’ (regular associates or purveyors). These individuals relied on the merchant houses as clients, sources of capital, patrons, or lenders. The group included figures at the very bottom of the social scale, such as masseurs, laundrymen, lending-library operators, and rickshaw pullers; yet, depending on the master’s tastes, even Kabuki actors might be counted among these ‘deiri’. Among them, however, two types were indispensable: physicians and the ‘kashira’ (foremen), leaders of carpenters or other tradesmen who acted as arbiters in the quarrels and disputes that frequently arose in the society of the time.
Senior clerks who left their master’s household to establish their own independent businesses (distinct from commuting clerks) continued to frequent the master’s house and conducted their trade by leveraging the master’s resources. Such men regarded the master’s house as their ‘head office’ and revered the master as they would a daimyo. Consequently, the heads of great merchant houses held high social standing and commanded universal respect. Yet, given the rigid class distinctions of the era, they could not presume to stand on equal footing with the warrior class. As previously mentioned, while many retired great merchants built and occupied retirement quarters on the same estate grounds, some chose to establish their retreats in quiet locations away from the city’s bustle. Often residing in the countryside near the capital, they would pass the nights listening to the calls of cuckoos and rails, spend their leisure days engaged in the tea ceremony, haiku, waka poetry, and flower arranging, and surround themselves with fine incense, calligraphy, paintings, and rare artifacts as they quietly lived out their remaining years.
Life was a relentless round of busyness; even the head clerk of a great merchant house was forbidden to spend the night away from the premises for any reason other than business, required instead to sit at the counting-house desk day after day, overseeing operations. Permission to return home for the night was granted only twice a year, on the two occasions known as ‘nido no deban’ (the ‘two turns of duty’). As for the apprentices, they were constantly on the run, attending to their master’s every outing; even in snowy weather, they had to walk barefoot in straw sandals, never pausing in their stride. It is no wonder that a poet of the common people was moved to tears of sympathy, writing: “Were he my own child, I would not send him out in today’s snow.” Yet, amidst this, the children of these great merchant families enjoyed a world of leisure and pleasure all their own. The sons, naturally, knew nothing of life’s hardships; they spent their days engaged in haikai poetry gatherings and sightseeing excursions, though some—unable to resist the temptations of youthful passion, would occasionally squander their time in pleasure quarters. Here, too, the discontents of human life were already manifest.
Reflecting further on the circumstances of life in these back-alley tenements fills one with a profound sense of melancholy. Where poverty dwells, ignorance dwells; and where ignorance dwells, vice dwells. The inhabitants here live in a state of utter lack of decorum: women feel no shame in going without a sash, wearing only an apron; men, clad in rags, cannot bring themselves to forgo their daily flask of cheap sake.
There are those who live alone with neither trade nor assets, wandering the city streets to pick fights and extort money from others. Even those who do have a trade engage in nothing more than monkey-showing, selling ground-cherry pods, repairing tobacco pipes, or scavenging for wastepaper. Some simply lay out a couple of door panels to sell lightly grilled dried squid.
Struggling to make ends meet in their daily lives, families huddled together in the bitter cold under a single quilt, insufficient to cover both mother and child, while rice was purchased in meager measures of five ‘gō’ or even just one, barely keeping starvation at bay. This wretched state of human degradation represented the darkest side of Edo. Yet, there existed a darkness even deeper than this: the brothel districts. I cannot bring myself to describe them here. Who, then, provided general education in this great metropolis? It was the writing masters.
They taught children using texts ranging from the Ikawa primer to Jijun-shi (Self-Cultivation), Shōbai-shikarai (Business Practices), and the Senjimon (Thousand Character Classic). These teachers were respectfully addressed as ‘O-shishō-san’. Typically, they gathered children from the morning until two in the afternoon to instruct them in etiquette and calligraphy. There were female writing-masters as well.
At that time, few people truly understood the nature of education; parents simply sent their children to a writing master and paid no heed to the substance of the instruction. Consequently, the masters tended to focus primarily on catering to the children’s whims. It was customary for the master to take the children out for cherry blossom viewing every March, an event the children eagerly awaited. Among the pupils, the most outstanding was designated the ‘head student’ and commanded respect from the others. Those who continued their studies after growing up, occasionally visiting the master for further instruction, were known as ‘regular students.’ The remuneration paid by students to their masters was extremely meager; during the Tenpō era, it was generally around two hundred ‘mon’ per month. However, as they occasionally received gifts from the students’ families, the masters were able to make ends meet.
Such was the state of urban life. Furthermore, the city lacked the convenience of horse-drawn carriages or rickshaws for getting around; one relied instead on street-corner palanquins. Yet, it was not uncommon to be accosted by a drunkard in the middle of the main thoroughfare. In areas with little foot traffic at night, bandits would frequently lie in wait. Moreover, in notorious districts like Sake Yokocho, packs of dogs would often roam wildly, menacing passersby. Such, in general, was the scene within Edo.
Enterprising Figures
Material progress accompanied the arrival of peace, and the individuals who distinguished themselves through such undertakings are worthy of the historian’s attention. Suminokura Ryōi, a merchant from the capital, opened up the gorge of the Ōi River to establish a waterway from Hozu to Saga; he also harnessed the Fuji and Tenryū Rivers to facilitate transport across the provinces of Kai, Kawachi, and Shinano. These feats took place during the Keichō era, when Toyotomi Hideyori held his stronghold in Osaka. Later, between the Shōhō and Keian eras, Nagata Shigemon constructed a weir at the mouth of the Naka River in Hitachi Province for the daimyo of Mito, and by the Jōkyō and Genroku eras, the renowned Kawamura Zuiken had made his mark.
He devised a grand plan to transport rice and grain from the Ōu region to Edo by sea for the government of the day and, also, implemented measures to control floodwaters in Osaka. In the ninth year of Genroku (1696), Miyazaki Bundaifu of Chikuzen authored the ‘Nōgyō Zensho’ (Complete Book of Agriculture) in ten volumes; the work included a discussion on sugar production—noting that sugar cane was not yet cultivated in Japan at the time, necessitating annual imports of 4.22 million ‘kin’ through Nagasaki. In the fourth month of the eleventh year of Genroku (1698), a project was completed to divert water from Lake Hakone to Suntō District in Suruga Province—an undertaking that originated from the innovative ideas of Ōba Gennojō, the village headman of Fukara in Suntō District. During this era, extravagance gradually spread; arts and crafts evolved from simplicity to intricate detail and from rustic plainness to ornate splendor, as a civilization characterized by aristocratic tastes and material wealth neared its peak.
The eighth shogun, Yoshimune, sought to curb extravagance while simultaneously encouraging the development of local products; he released three ‘white cattle’ into the fields of Boshu to promote cattle breeding and researched sugar production methods, even introducing seedlings from Ryukyu for experimental cultivation. Aoki Bunzō’s efforts to expand sweet potato cultivation further fostered a spirit of industrial promotion, and during the Hōreki, Meiwa, and An’ei eras, Hiraga Kyūkei advocated the study of production and economics. Uesugi Harunori’s decision to establish a ‘Domestic Products Office’, acting on the proposal of Takemata Mimasaku, was an action that took .advantage of this trend. Sato Enki produced his writings, drawing upon the specialized agricultural expertise passed down through generations of his family, during the Bunka, Tenpo, and Koka eras. It was in the fifth year of the Bunsei era, when Enki was fifty-three years old, that Ninomiya Sontoku, a commoner, undertook the task of rehabilitating the village of the Utsu clan on behalf of the daimyo of Odawara.
Just as the names of poets must not be omitted from the history of literature, when one looks back at the history of material progress, the names of the heroes who provided vital support to such endeavors shine like stars, indelible and enduring. They were all individuals who recognized the needs of their times and acted to meet them.
We ought not to forget their names. Yet, it is not only the luminous insect that takes flight in the night; there are also unsung heroes in remote hamlets, whose names do not grace the annals of history, who have contributed immensely to our material progress. They sacrificed their wealth to cultivate the land, introduced crops from other regions, dug canals for irrigation, stored grain against years of famine, and excavated ponds to secure water sources; furthermore, whenever they had the means, they established libraries to educate the youth. In every village distinguished by noble customs, there exists a central figure who serves as a model for others. Often, as a reward for the hardships endured during their lifetimes, they achieve an enduring legacy after death; indeed, the many places known as “So-and-so’s New Field” (Shinden) serve to perpetuate the names of those who first reclaimed the land.
At the fork in the road where villagers come and go, a stone stands to commemorate their deeds. Within a small shrine amidst the wooded hills, they are revered as sacred figures. Alas, heroes of humble hamlets—though lacking high lineage, literary renown, or wide connections, and thus leaving no names in the annals of history, their achievements endure nonetheless between heaven and earth. Coral polyps are tiny, yet when they gather, they form islands; indeed, the material progress of modern times has been wrought by the hands of heroes unknown to the world. The people of Japan must never forget these benefactors.
They strove to shatter the superstitions of their hometowns. While introducing new facilities, they battled against age-old customs. Examples include stocking fish in ponds and marshes long revered as the abodes of divine dragons; persuading local residents, who feared that such actions would bring misfortune, to utilize these waters for irrigation; or introducing the consumption of foods previously deemed taboo. None of these were easy undertakings. Yet, they could not simply leave the work undone. In the Tokugawa era that prized monopoly and secrecy, deciphering the manufacturing methods of other regions required them to brave dangers akin to those faced by spies infiltrating enemy territory. To acquire knowledge that others refused to share, they were sometimes compelled to resort to deceit or theft. Such endeavors demanded a passionate zeal and, at times, the resolve to sacrifice their very lives for the cause.
One need not speak of this merely in the abstract. Take, for instance, the story of the ‘seven-island rush mat’ of Bungo; its history is truly inspiring. During the Kanbun era, a merchant from Oita crossed three hundred miles of open sea, braving violent storms and raging waves, and narrowly escaping death, to import a special kind of rushes plant from the Ryukyu Islands. When the locals refused to share the seedlings, he concealed the plants inside a hollowed-out bamboo stalk to bring them back. However, the seedlings withered because he was unfamiliar with the proper cultivation methods. Undeterred, he sailed to the Ryukyus once more. Ultimately, he succeeded in his mission, and the ‘Seven Island Rush Mat’ became a renowned specialty of Bungo. Stories of this kind surely exist everywhere; it is simply that the records of such events have often been lost to time, leaving them untold.
The achievements of Suminokura Ryooi in water management and of Kawamura Zuiken in river transportation are recorded in historical texts. Although they should not be forgotten for their accomplishments, they are only well-known because they were major merchants in the city. There were hundreds of Kawamuras and thousands Suminokuras throughout the land. However, because they did not live great cities, their names have not been recorded by unfair historians.
