Political Conditions—Reopening of Japan to Foreign
Intercourse—Conclusion of Treaties—Decay of Shōgunate.
Much space has been given in the preceding chapter to the Tokugawa
period of administration. For this no apology is due to the reader. The
period in question, held in grateful remembrance by the nation as the
Era of Great Peace, is the most important in Japanese history. This
importance it owes to its long duration; to the singular character of
its government—a centralized and autocratic bureaucracy flavoured with
feudalism; to the progress which took place in literature, art and
industry; to its being the immediate predecessor of what is known as the
Meiji Era—the reign of the late Emperor, which began in 1868; and,
consequently, to the fact that the Japanese people, as we see them
to-day, are the product of that period more than of any other. Before
leaving the subject, therefore, it may perhaps be convenient to explain
very briefly what kind of feudal system it was which formed, as it were,
the basis of Tokugawa government, for one feature of it still survives.
In his _History of the Civilization of Europe_, Guizot puts forward on
behalf of feudalism the claim that it constitutes an essential stage in
the evolution of nations. It certainly played a very noticeable part in
the development of Japan, lasting as it did from the close of the
twelfth century down to the middle of the nineteenth, a period of more
than seven hundred years. The French author and statesman in question,
however, might have been surprised had he known that one feature of
Japanese feudalism would survive its abolition, and that feature one not
known on the continent of Europe.
Though in its general character Japanese feudalism resembled the feudal
systems prevailing at various times in the continental countries of
Europe, in one respect—the position of the population inhabiting the
fiefs—it came closer to the clan type of Scottish feudalism; with this
important distinction, however, that, whereas the Scottish clan was a
family, or tribal, organization, the basis of the Japanese clan was
purely territorial, the clansmen being held together by no family link.
The Japanese word _Han_ (borrowed from China), the usual English
rendering of which is “clan,” does not, in its feudal sense, refer to
the territory included in a fief, but to the people inhabiting it. In
unsettled times, which were the rule and not the exception before the
middle of the sixteenth century, the map of feudal Japan was constantly
changing. The area of a fief expanded, or contracted, according to the
military fortunes of the daimiō concerned; and at times both fief and
feudal owner disappeared altogether. Nor in the alterations thus
occurring from time to time in the feudal map was any consideration paid
to natural boundaries. A daimiō’s fief, or, in other words, the
territories of a clan, might consist of the whole or only part of a
province, of portions of two or three provinces, or even of several
whole provinces, as in the case of the founder of the Tokugawa line of
Shōguns, and, at one time, of Mōri, “the lord of ten provinces.” In
earlier days the word “clan” (_Han_) was not much used, the personality
of the daimiō of the fief being the chief consideration. As conditions
became more settled, however, under the peaceful sway of the Tokugawa
Shōguns, the boundaries of fiefs became more fixed and permanent. As a
result, too, of these unwarlike conditions, and of the spread to feudal
circles of the corrupt and effeminate atmosphere of the Imperial Court,
the personality of a daimiō counted for less, while the term “clan”
gradually came to be more commonly employed to express the idea of a
distinct feudal community, united solely by territorial associations.
These acted as provincial ties do everywhere, but where feudal and
provincial boundaries were the same, the tie uniting the population of a
fief was naturally stronger than elsewhere. Some idea of what the clan
really was in Japan is necessary in order to understand how it was that
clan spirit should have survived when feudalism died, and how it is that
Japan to-day, more than half a century after its abolition, should be
ruled by what the Japanese themselves speak of as a clan government
(_Hambatsu Séifu_).
We now come to a new chapter in the history of Japan—the reopening of
the country to foreign intercourse. At the close of the drama which
ended in the expulsion, or death, of all missionaries and their converts
the Dutch and Chinese were, as we have seen, the only foreigners allowed
to trade with Japan, the reason being that neither, so far as the
Japanese could judge, had any connection with Christianity, or
missionaries. This was about the middle of the seventeenth century.
Things remained in this state until the beginning of the nineteenth, by
which time the commerce carried on by the traders of the two favoured
nationalities had dwindled to very small proportions. During the last
fifty years of this trade changes full of meaning for Japan, for the
continent of Asia and for the world at large were taking place. Russia
was extending her sphere of activity in Siberia, and threatening to
become an intrusive neighbour in Saghalin and the Kuriles. American
whalers had discovered a profitable field of enterprise in the Sea of
Okhotsk, while, further south, landing parties from these vessels were
making use of the Bonin islands to obtain water and fresh provisions.
The development of America’s seaboard on the Pacific had led to the
opening of a new trade route with the mainland of Asia, for which the
Japanese islands offered convenient ports of call. And, finally, the
governments of Great Britain and France were busily engaged in
demolishing the barriers of conservative prejudice behind which China
had for so long entrenched herself. These changes, due partly to the
introduction of steam navigation, caused a sudden and rapidly growing
increase in the visits of foreign vessels to Japan. The trend of affairs
was perceived by the Dutch, who warned the Japanese authorities that the
moment was approaching when the policy of isolation could no longer be
pursued without danger to the country. It needed little to arouse
Japanese apprehensions. A system of coast defence was at once organized.
The Bay of Yedo, and its vicinity, the inland sea, and the harbours in
Kiūshiū, including the immediate neighbourhood of Nagasaki, were places
to which special attention was given. It is clear from the experience of
foreign ships which accident or enterprise carried into Japanese waters,
from the detailed instructions issued periodically from Yedo, and from
the reports of movements of foreign vessels received by the authorities,
that there was no lack of vigilance in the working of the system. Yet it
was singularly ineffective; a result, under the circumstances, not
surprising, since the policy of the Yedo Government varied according to
the degree of apprehension existing at the moment in official circles,
and there was a general desire to evade responsibility.
Three reasons inspired these visits of foreign vessels: the need of
provisions, looking for shipwrecked crews, or repatriating shipwrecked
Japanese, and a desire to engage in trade, or to establish friendly
relations which would lead to that result. In no case was the reception
accorded encouraging, though a clear discrimination was exercised
between merchant vessels and warships. To the former scant mercy was
shown; but warships were treated with more respect. They were towed into
and out of harbour free of charge, and were supplied with provisions for
which no money was accepted.
America was the country most interested at that time in the opening of
Japan to foreign intercourse on account of the operations of her whalers
in the Pacific and her trade route to China. The United States
Government, therefore, decided to take the initiative in endeavouring to
put an end to the Japanese policy of isolation. Accordingly, in the year
1845, Commodore Biddle arrived in Yedo with two men-of-war for the
purpose of establishing trade relations between the two countries. He
failed, however, to induce the Japanese Government to enter into any
negotiations on the subject. Seven years later the matter was again
taken up by the Government at Washington, Commodore Perry receiving
orders to proceed to Japan on a mission to arrange for the more humane
treatment of American sailors shipwrecked on the coasts of Japan; to
obtain the opening of one or more harbours as ports of call for American
vessels and the establishment of a coal depôt; and to secure permission
for trade at such ports as might be opened. No secrecy surrounded the
intentions of the United States. They were known in Europe as well as in
America, as Macfarlane, writing in 1852, mentions, and the Dutch
promptly told the Japanese.
On July 8th, 1853, Perry arrived in the harbour of Uraga, a small cove
in the Bay of Yedo, some thirty miles from the present capital. His
instructions were to obtain the facilities desired by persuasion, if
possible, but, if necessary, by force. He succeeded after some
difficulty in prevailing upon the Japanese authorities to receive the
President’s letter at a formal interview on shore. At the same time he
presented a letter from himself demanding more humane treatment for
shipwrecked sailors, and pointed out the folly of persistence in the
policy of seclusion. He would return next spring, he added, with more
ships to receive the answer to the President’s letter.
With Perry’s arrival the Shōgun figures under a new title, that of
Tycoon (_Taikun_), or Great Lord, a term first used in correspondence
with Korea in order to conceal the fact that the Shōgun was not the
sovereign of Japan. This was the word chosen to designate the Shōgun in
the earlier treaties concluded with foreign Powers, and is the name by
which he was commonly known to foreigners until the Restoration put an
end to the government he represented.
On Perry’s return in the following year, 1854, he insisted on anchoring
further up the Bay of Yedo, off what was then the post town and
afterwards the open port of Kanagawa. It was at a village close to this
spot, now known as the town of Yokohama, that on the 31st March he
signed the Treaty opening the ports of Shimoda (in Cape Idzu) and
Hakodaté (in Yezo) to American vessels—the former at once, the latter at
the end of a year. This Treaty, which was ratified in the following
year, was the first step in the reopening of Japan to foreign
intercourse.
Perry’s Treaty was succeeded by similar arrangements with other
Powers—with the British in October of the same year (1854), and in the
year following with the Russians and Dutch.
The Dutch benefited greatly by the new direction given to foreign
relations. By the provisional arrangement made in 1855 most of the
humiliating restrictions accompanying the privilege of trade were
removed; and two years later they were allowed “to practise their own or
the Christian religion,” a provision which seems to suggest that the
Japanese idea as to their not being Christians was inspired by the
Dutch. The orders, moreover, with regard to trampling on Christian
emblems were also at the same time rescinded. There was still some
difference between their position and that of other foreigners. This,
however, only lasted a year or two. With the operation of the later more
elaborate treaties the nation which had prided itself on its exclusive
trading privileges with Japan was glad to come in on the same footing as
other Western Powers.
None of the arrangements above described were regular commercial
treaties. The first, concluded with America, was simply an agreement for
the granting of certain limited facilities for navigation and trade, the
latter being a secondary consideration. The object of the British
Treaty, made by Admiral Stirling during the Crimean war, was to assist
operations against Russia in Siberian waters. The Russians, for their
part, merely wished for political reasons to gain a footing in Japan;
while the Dutch were chiefly anxious to escape from the undignified
position they occupied.
It was not until 1858 that regular commercial treaties were concluded.
Perry’s Treaty had stipulated for the appointment of an American
Consul-General to reside at Shimoda. Mr. Townsend Harris was selected
for the post. His arrival was unwelcome to the Japanese, who had not
expected the enforcement of the stipulation. They accordingly boycotted
him. He could get no trustworthy information. If he asked for anything,
it was withheld as being “contrary to the honourable country’s law”; and
his letters were not answered because “it was not customary to reply to
the letters of foreigners.” Harris, nevertheless, persevered in spite of
Japanese obstruction with his task of developing American relations with
Japan. In June, 1857, he was able to report the signature of a
convention which extended considerably the facilities conceded to Perry;
in the autumn of the same year he was received in audience by the Shōgun
as the first duly accredited representative of a Western Power; by the
following February negotiations for the new Treaty were practically
completed; and in July of that year (1858) the Treaty was signed in Yedo
Bay on board an American man-of-war.
The delay of five months was caused by the Shōgunate’s decision to refer
the Treaty before signature to Kiōto for the approval of the Throne.
This reference was not necessary. The right of the Shōgun to act
independently in such matters had been recorded in the “Hundred
Articles,” and long custom had confirmed the rule thus recorded. But in
the embarrassment and trepidation caused by Perry’s unexpected visit,
and still less expected demands, the Shōgunate had departed from this
rule, and revived the obsolete formality of Imperial sanction, extending
at the same time its application. The Court refused its consent to the
proposed Treaty, but in spite of this refusal the Japanese negotiators
signed it; the Shōgun’s ministers being influenced by the news of the
termination of the war in China, and the impending arrival of British
and French ambassadors, as well as by the representations of the
American negotiator.
Treaties with Great Britain, with Holland, with Russia, and with France
followed in rapid succession, the first three being signed in August,
the last-named in October. All four reproduced more or less closely the
substance of the American convention. The choice of open ports in
Perry’s Treaty—due to solicitude for American whalers, and
considerations connected with America’s new trade route to China—had in
the interests of general commerce been unfortunate. This defect was
remedied in the new treaties by provisions for the opening of additional
ports. A tariff and a system of tonnage dues were also established. In
other respects the new treaties merely confirmed, or amplified, the
provisions of earlier arrangements. They were useful, however, as the
forerunners of a whole series of practically uniform agreements, which
simplified Japan’s position, while enlarging the scope of foreign
relations. One of the last to be concluded was the Austro-Hungarian
Treaty of 1869, the English version of which was made the “original,” or
authoritative, text. By virtue of the most-favoured-nation clause, which
figured in all these conventions, it was this instrument which governed
the relations of Japan with Treaty Powers, until the new revised
treaties came into force in 1899. When the Japanese people became aware
that the character of these treaties was different from those made by
Western governments with each other, an early opportunity was taken to
protest against the provisions conceding ex-territoriality and fixing a
low customs tariff, and against the obstacle to revision presented by
the absence in the agreements of any fixed period of duration. The
irritation thus caused led later on to an agitation for treaty revision,
which did much to embitter Japanese feeling towards foreigners. The
complaint was not unnatural, but in making it there was a tendency to
overlook the fact that the position of foreigners in Japan under these
treaties was also very different from their position under other
treaties elsewhere. The residential and commercial rights of the
foreigner in Japan applied only to the “open ports,” while his right of
travel, except by special permission, not readily granted, did not
extend beyond a narrow area at the same ports known as “treaty limits.”
The rest of the country remained closed. This limitation of facilities
for commercial intercourse was, moreover, accentuated by the fact that
the choice of “open” or “treaty ports” was not, as has been pointed out,
the best that could have been made. Compelled against their will to
consent to foreign intercourse, it was only to be expected that the
Japanese should seek to render the concession worthless by selecting
harbours neither suitable nor safe for shipping, and places far from
markets, and that a similar spirit should dictate the choice of sites
for foreign settlements. That the early negotiators who represented
Japan were handicapped by ignorance of the principles regulating
international relations is undeniable. But the injustice, as they
considered it, of the conditions against which protest was made was
really a blessing in disguise; for, on the admission of the Japanese
themselves, it served as a powerful stimulus to progress on the lines of
Western civilization.
In the course of five years from the date of Perry’s Treaty no less than
thirteen elaborate agreements, besides other arrangements of a less
formal character, had been concluded by Japan. So rapid an extension of
foreign intercourse might seem to point to a subsidence of anti-foreign
feeling, and a decrease of opposition to the establishment of friendly
relations with foreign countries. Such, however, was not the case. The
negotiations of these various covenants were carried on in the face of
growing anti-foreign clamour, and in the midst of political confusion
and agitation,—the precursors of a movement which was to end in the
collapse of Tokugawa government.
In order that the subsequent course of events may be understood, some
reference, however brief, to the political situation which existed at
this time is necessary. It will be seen what complications—quite apart
from the embarrassments arising out of the reopening of foreign
intercourse—were caused by the inconsequence and ambition of the Court,
the weakness of the Shōgunate, and the jealousies of rival statesmen.
Some idea may also thus be formed of the ignorance of foreign matters
which then prevailed, except in a few official quarters, and of the
clumsy timidity of a policy which consisted chiefly of shutting the eyes
to facts patent to everyone.
Ever since the establishment of Tokugawa rule there had been a party at
the Kiōto Court, consisting of Court nobles, which championed the
pretensions of the Throne, mourned over its lost glories, conducted its
intrigues, and felt a common resentment against what in its eyes was an
administration of usurpers. The fatal mistake of the Shōgunate in
referring to Kiōto Perry’s demands for the reopening of foreign
intercourse on new and strange conditions—a matter which, in accordance
with established precedent, was within its own competency—gave an
opportunity to this party to revive the long obsolete pretensions of the
Court. The opportunity was at once seized. The party had at this time
powerful adherents. Amongst them the chief figure was the ex-Prince of
Mito. Early in the previous century his grandfather, the second of his
line, had founded a school of literature and politics, which espoused
the Imperial cause, and encouraged the native religion and language in
opposition to what was borrowed from China,—a profession of principles
which sat curiously on a leading member of the Tokugawa House. Holding
the same views himself, the ex-Prince had been forced to abdicate some
years before in favour of his eldest son for having destroyed the
Buddhist temples in his fief, and made their bells into cannon, for the
alleged purpose of repelling a foreign invasion. With the ex-Prince were
ranged the Tokugawa Prince of Owari and the influential daimiōs of
Chōshiū, Échizen, Tosa and Uwajima, whilst a large measure of sympathy
with Imperial aims existed among the prominent clans of the south and
west. The anti-Shōgunate movement also derived help from the turbulent
class of clanless _samurai_, known as _rōnin_, which at this time was
rapidly increasing in numbers owing to economic distress in feudal
territories, and the growing weakness of the Shōgunate. The latter’s
supporters, on the other hand, were mostly to be found in the centre,
the north and the east, all of which were old Tokugawa strongholds. Its
chief strength, however, lay in its being _beatus possidens_,—having,
that is to say, the command of State resources, and being in a position
to speak for the Throne; and in the fact that Tokugawa government, by
its long duration and the completeness of its bureaucratic organization,
had taken so firm a hold of the country, that whatever sympathy might
possibly be evoked on behalf of revived Imperial pretensions might not
unreasonably be expected to fall short of material support.
One other advantage the Shōgunate possessed was the presence in the
Government of a minister of distinguished ancestry, and of great ability
and courage, combined with, what was rare in those days, independence of
character. This was the famous Ïi Kamon no Kami, generally known as the
Tairō, or Regent, whose castle-town, Hikoné, near Kiōto, overlooked Lake
Biwa. The early associations of his family made him a staunch upholder
of Tokugawa rule. He quickly became the leading spirit of the Ministry,
and the liberal views he apparently held on the subject of treaty-making
and foreign intercourse brought him at once into collision with the
boldest and most uncompromising member of the Court party—the ex-Prince
of Mito. The disagreement between them first showed itself in the advice
called for by the Throne from the Council of State and the leading
feudal nobles on the question of the signature of the American Treaty of
1858. In the controversy which arose on this point they figured as the
chief protagonists. The policy of the Court in 1853 had been
non-committal. In 1855 it had formally approved of the treaties, the
Shōgun’s resident at Kiōto reporting that “the Imperial mind was now at
ease.” Nevertheless, in spite of this approval, and notwithstanding the
signature of fresh treaties, the crusade of the Court party against
foreign intercourse went on unabated. On the present occasion the
ex-Prince of Mito argued strongly against the Treaty, while the Council
of State, adopting the views of Ïi Kamon no Kami, who was not yet
Regent, recommended the signature of the Treaty as being the proper
course to follow. But the question which provoked the keenest rivalry
and the bitterest antagonism between the two statesmen concerned the
succession to the Shōgunate.
The Shōgun Iyésada, appointed in 1853, was childless, and, in accordance
with custom in such cases, it was incumbent on him to choose and adopt a
successor. The ex-Prince of Mito wished the choice to fall on one of his
younger sons, Kéiki, then fifteen years of age, who having been adopted
into the Hitotsubashi family, was eligible for the appointment. But the
new Shōgun was only twenty-nine, and in no hurry to choose a successor
from another family. His relations, moreover, with the ex-Prince of Mito
were not cordial; and there were other objections. If he were
constrained to adopt a successor, his own choice would, it was known,
fall on a nearer kinsman, the young Prince of Kishiū, a boy of ten. The
heir preferred by the Shōgun was also the choice of Ïi. The parties
supporting the rival candidates were not unequally matched. Though the
weight of clan influence was on the side of Kéiki, fated a few years
later to be the last of the Tokugawa Shōguns, a section of the Court
nobles joined with the Council of State in favouring the candidature of
the young Kishiū prince, behind whom stood also the Shōgun.
The two questions in dispute were thus quite distinct, the one being a
matter of foreign, the other of domestic policy. But the two
protagonists in each being the same, it looked as if the side that was
successful in one issue would gain the day in both. And this in fact is
what happened. In June, 1858, in the interval between the second and
third missions to Kiōto in connection with the signature of the American
Treaty, Ïi became Regent—an appointment tenable in times of emergency as
well as during a Shōgun’s minority. The end of the conflict, which had
lasted nearly five years, was then in sight. In July, as already stated,
the American Treaty was signed. Before another week had elapsed the
young Kishiū prince was proclaimed heir to the Shōgunate. Ten days later
the Shōgun Iyésada died.