TREATIES--ANTI-FOREIGN SPIRIT--MURDER OF FOREIGNERS
THE expedition of Commodore Perry to Loochoo and Japan was not the first
enterprise of its kind that had been undertaken by the Americans. Having
accomplished their own independence as the result of a contest in which
a few millions of half-united colonists had successfully withstood the
well-trained legions of Great Britain and her German mercenaries (though
not, it may be fairly said, without in a great measure owing their
success to the very efficient assistance of French armies and fleets),
they added to this memory of ancient wrongs a natural fellow-feeling for
other nations who were less able to resist the might of the greatest
commercial and maritime Power the world has yet seen. While sympathising
with Eastern peoples in the defence of their independent rights, they
believed that a conciliatory mode of treating them was at least equally
well fitted to ensure the concession of those trading privileges to
which the Americans are not less indifferent than the English.
In 1836 they had despatched an envoy to Siam and Cochin-China, who was
successful in negotiating by peaceful methods a treaty of commerce with
the former state. In China, like the other western states, they had
profited by the negotiations which were the outcome of the Opium War,
without having to incur the odium of using force or the humiliation of
finding their softer methods prove a failure in dealing with the
obstinate conservatism of Chinese mandarins. For many years their eyes
had been bent upon Japan, which lay on the opposite side of the Pacific
fronting their own state of California, then rising into fame as one of
the great gold-producing regions of the globe. Warned by the fate of all
previous attempts to break down the wall of seclusion that hemmed in the
'country of the gods,' they resolved to make such a show of force that
with reasonable people, unfamiliar with modern artillery, might prove as
powerful an argument as theories of universal brotherhood and the
obligations imposed by the comity of nations. They appointed to the
chief command a naval officer possessed of both tact and determination,
whose judicious use of the former qualification rendered the employ of
the second unnecessary. Probably no one was more agreeably surprised
than Commodore Perry at the comparative ease with which, on his second
visit to the Bay of Yedo, he obtained a Treaty, satisfactory enough as a
beginning. No doubt the counsels of the Dutch agent at Nagasaki were not
without their effect, and we may also conjecture that the desire which
had already begun to manifest itself among some of the lower _Samurai_
for a wider acquaintance with the mysterious outer world was secretly
shared by men in high positions. Fear alone would not have induced a
haughty government like that of the Shôguns to acquiesce in breaking
through a law of restriction that had such a highly creditable antiquity
to boast of.
Most men's motives are mixed, and there was on the Japanese side no very
decided unwillingness to yield to a show of force, which the pretext of
prudence would enable them to justify. England and Russia, then or
shortly afterwards at war, followed in the wake of the United States.
Next an American Consul-General took up his residence at Shimoda, to
look after the interests of whaling vessels, and skilfully made use of
the recent events in China to induce the Shôgun's government to extend
the concessions already granted. In 1858 the China War having been
apparently brought to a successful conclusion, Lord Elgin and the French
Ambassador, Baron Gros, ran across to Japan and concluded treaties on
the same basis as Mr. Harris, and before long similar privileges were
accorded to Holland and Russia. In 1859 the ports of Nagasaki, Hakodaté
and Yokohama were thrown open to the trade of the Five Powers, and a new
age was inaugurated in Japan.
It was not without opposition that the Shôgun's government had entered
into its first engagements with the United States, Great Britain and
Russia. An agitation arose when the first American ships anchored in the
Bay of Yedo, and there were not wanting bold and rash men ready to
undertake any desperate enterprise against the foreign invaders of the
sacred soil of Japan. But at this time there was no leader to whom the
malcontents could turn for guidance. The Mikado was closely watched by
the Shôgun's resident at Kiôto, and the _daimiôs_ were divided among
themselves. The principal opponent was the ex-Prince of Mito, whose
constitutional duty was to support the Shôgun and aid him with his
counsels in all great national crises.
During the presence of Commodore Perry the reigning Shôgun Iyéyoshi had
fallen ill, and he died not long after the squadron had sailed. He was
succeeded by his son Iyésada, a man of 28, who does not seem to have
been endowed with either force of character or knowledge of the world.
Such qualities are not to be expected from the kind of education which
fell to the lot of Japanese princes in those days.
In view of the expected return of the American ships in the following
year, forts were constructed to guard the sea-front of the capital, and
the ex-Prince of Mito was summoned from his retirement to take the lead
in preparing to resist the encroachments of foreign powers. By a curious
coincidence, this nobleman, then forty-nine years of age, was the
representative of a family which for years had maintained the
theoretical right of the Mikado to exercise the supreme government, and
was at the same time strongly opposed to any extension of the limited
intercourse with foreign countries then permitted. Nor can it be
wondered that Japan, who had so successfully protected herself from
foreign aggression by a policy of rigid exclusion, and which had seen
the humiliation of China consequent upon disputes with a Western Power
arising out of trade questions at the very moment when she was being
torn by a civil war which owed its origin to the introduction of new
religious beliefs from the West, should have believed that the best
means of maintaining peace at home and avoiding an unequal contest with
Europe, was to adhere strictly to the traditions of the past two
centuries. But when the intrusive foreigners returned in the beginning
of the following year, Japan found herself still unprepared to repel
them by force. The treaty was therefore signed, interdicting trade, but
permitting whalers to obtain supplies in the three harbours of Nagasaki,
Hakodaté and Shimoda, and promising friendly treatment to shipwrecked
sailors.
While making these unavoidable concessions, the Japanese buoyed
themselves up with the belief that their innate superiority could enable
them easily to overcome the better equipped forces of foreign countries,
when once they had acquired the modern arts of warfare and provided
themselves with a sufficient proportion of the ships and weapons of the
nineteenth century. From that time onwards this was the central idea of
Japan's foreign policy for many years, as the sequel will show. Even at
this period there were a few who would have willingly started off on
this new quest, and two Japanese actually asked Commodore Perry to give
them a passage in his flagship. They were refused, and their zeal was
punished by their own government with imprisonment. The residence of Mr.
Harris at Shimoda and the visit which he insisted on paying to the
capital created fresh difficulties for the advisers of the Shôgun.
Written protests were delivered by non-official members of his council,
and he was obliged at last to ask the Mikado's sanction to the treaties,
in order to strengthen his own position. This invocation of the Mikado's
authority may fairly be called an innovation upon ancient custom.
Neither Nobunaga, Hidéyoshi nor Iyéyasu had thought it necessary to get
their acts approved by him, and Iyéyasu granted trade privileges
entirely on his own responsibility, without his right to do so ever
being questioned. This reference to Kiôto is the first sign of the
decadence of the Shôgun's power.
The supremacy of the Mikado having been once admitted, his right to a
voice in the affairs of the country could no longer be disputed. His
nobles seized the opportunity, and assumed the attitude of obstruction,
which has always been a powerful weapon in the hands of individuals and
parties. One man out of a dozen, of sufficient determination, can always
force the others to yield, when his position is legal, and cannot be
disturbed by the use of force. On the one hand, Mr. Harris pressed for a
revision of the treaty and the concession of open ports at Kanagawa and
Ozaka; on the other was the Court, turning an obstinately deaf ear to
all proposals. In its desperation the Shôgun's government appointed to
be Prime Minister, or Regent as he was called by foreigners, the
descendant of Iyéyasu's most trusted retainer, the _daimiô_ Ii Kamon no
Kami of Hikoné, and Mr. Harris, as has already been said, skilfully
turning to account the recent exploits of the combined English and
French squadrons in the Chinese seas, obtained his treaty, achieving a
diplomatic triumph of the greatest value purely by the use of "moral"
pressure. The English, French, Russian and Dutch treaties followed. The
Shôgun stood committed to a policy from which his new allies were not
likely to allow of his receding, while to the anti-foreign party was
imparted a consistency that there had previously been little chance of
its acquiring.
Scarcely was the ink of these engagements dry, when the Shôgun, who had
been indisposed for some weeks past, was gathered to his fathers,
leaving no heir. According to the custom which had been observed on two
previous occasions when there had been a break in the direct line, a
prince was chosen from the house of Ki-shiû to be his successor. The
ex-Prince of Mito, and several of his sympathisers among the leading
nobles, namely, Hizen, Owari, Tosa, Satsuma and the Daté of Uwajima, a
man of abilities superior to the size of his tiny fief in Shikoku, had
desired to choose a younger son of Mito, who had been adopted into the
family of Hitotsubashi. But the Prime Minister was too strong for them.
He insisted on the election of his own nominee, and forced his opponents
to retire into private life. Thus to their disapproval of the political
course adopted by the Shôgunate, was added a personal resentment against
its chief minister, and this feeling was shared in a remarkable degree
by the retainers of the disgraced nobles. A bloody revenge was taken two
years later on the individual, but the hostility to the system only
increased with time, and in the end brought about its complete ruin.
Mito was the ringleader of the opposition, and began actively to
intrigue with the Mikado's party against the head of his own family. The
foreigners arrived in numbers at Kanagawa and Yokohama, and affronted
the feelings of the haughty _samurai_ by their independent demeanour, so
different from the cringing subservience to which the rules of Japanese
etiquette condemned the native merchant. It was not long before blood
was shed. On the evening of the 26th August, six weeks after the
establishment at Yedo of the British and American Representatives, an
officer and a seaman belonging to a Russian man-of-war were cut to
pieces in the streets of Yokohama, where they had landed to buy
provisions. In November, a Chinese servant belonging to the French
vice-consul was attacked and killed in the foreign settlement at
Yokohama. Two months later, Sir R. Alcock's native linguist of the
British Legation was stabbed from behind as he was standing at the
gateway of the British Legation in Yedo, and within a month more two
Dutch merchant captains were slaughtered in the high street at Yokohama.
Then there was a lull for eight or nine months, till the French
Minister's servant was cut at and badly wounded as he was standing at
the gate of the Legation in Yedo. On the 14th January, 1861, Heusken,
the Secretary of the American Mission, was attacked and murdered as he
was riding home after a dinner-party at the Prussian Legation. And on
the night of July 5 occurred the boldest attempt yet made on the life of
foreigners, when the British Legation was attacked by a band of armed
men and as stoutly defended by the native guard. This was a considerable
catalogue for a period of no more than two years since the opening of
the ports to commerce. In every case the attack was premeditated and
unprovoked, and the perpetrators on every occasion belonged to the
swordbearing class. No offence had been given by the victims to those
who had thus ruthlessly cut them down; they were assassinated from
motives of a political character, and their murderers went unpunished in
every instance. Japan became to be known as a country where the
foreigner carried his life in his hand, and the dread of incurring the
fate of which so many examples had already occurred became general among
the residents. Even in England before I left to take up my appointment,
we felt that apart from the chances of climate, the risk of coming to an
untimely end at the hands of an expert swordsman must be taken into
account. Consequently, I bought a revolver, with a due supply of powder,
bullets and caps. The trade to Japan in these weapons must have been
very great in those days, as everyone wore a pistol whenever he ventured
beyond the limits of the foreign settlement, and constantly slept with
one under his pillow. It was a busy time for Colt and Adams. But in all
the years of my experience in Japan I never heard of more than one life
being taken by a revolver, and that was when a Frenchman shot a
carpenter who demanded payment for his labour in a somewhat too
demonstrative manner. In Yedo I think we finally gave up wearing
revolvers in 1869, chiefly because the few of us who resided there had
come to the conclusion that the weight of the weapon was inconvenient,
and also that if any bloodthirsty two-sworded gentleman intended to take
our lives, he would choose his time and opportunity so as to leave us no
chance of anticipating his purpose with a bullet.
In the spring of 1862 Sir Rutherford Alcock returned to England on leave
of absence, and Colonel Neale was left in charge. As I have said before,
disbelieving in the validity of the reasons which had led the Minister
to remove his official residence to Yokohama, the Chargé d'Affaires
reestablished himself at the temple formerly occupied as the British
Legation. On the anniversary, according to the Japanese calendar, of the
attack referred to on a previous page, some Commissioners for Foreign
Affairs in calling upon Colonel Neale, congratulated him and themselves
on the fact that a whole year had elapsed since any fresh attempt had
been made on the life of a foreigner. It was not unnatural, therefore,
that in the first impulse of indignation at the savage and bloody
slaughter of the sentry and corporal almost at his bedroom door, he
should have conceived the suspicion that the visit of the Commissioners
and their language in the morning, had been intended to put him off his
guard, and that consequently the Japanese government, or rather the
Shôgun's ministers, were implicated in what looked like a barbarous act
of treachery that deprived the Japanese nation of all right to be
regarded as a civilized community; more especially as the native watch
had been recently changed, and fresh men substituted for those who had
fought so well in defence of Sir Rutherford Alcock the year before. But
on reflection it will easily be seen that there was no real
justification for such a belief. The assassin was one of the guard.
After the murder of the two Englishmen he returned to his quarters and
there committed suicide by ripping himself up in the approved Japanese
fashion. We may be sure that if his act had been the result of a
conspiracy, he would not have been alone. Ignorant as the Shôgun's
ministers may have been, and probably were, of the sacred character of
an envoy, it was not their interest to bring upon themselves the armed
vengeance of foreign powers at a moment when they were confronted with
the active enmity of the principal clans of the west. I think they may
be entirely absolved from all share in this attempt to massacre the
inmates of the English Legation. But on the other hand it seems highly
probable that the man's comrades were aware of his intention, and that
after his partial success they connived at his escape. But he had been
wounded by a bullet discharged from the pistol of the second man whom he
attacked, and drops of blood on the ground showed the route by which he
had made his way out of the garden. As his identity could not be
concealed, he had to commit suicide in order to anticipate the penalty
of death which the Shôgun's government could not have avoided inflicting
on him. The apparent cognisance of the other men on guard (who were what
our law would call accessories before the fact), and the fact that
nevertheless they took no share in his act, is consonant with the
statement that he was merely accomplishing an act of private revenge.
His selection of the darkness of night seems to indicate that he hoped
to escape the consequences. Willis said that when he arose and looked
out, the night was pitch dark. It was the night before full moon, and in
the very middle of what is called in Japan the rainy season. He informed
me that there was a high wind and that heavy black clouds were drifting
over the sky. The stormy weather and the lateness of the hour (11 to 12
o'clock) might perhaps account for the native lanterns which were hung
about the grounds having ceased to give any light, but even under those
circumstances it is a little suspicious that the guard should have
neglected to replace the burnt out candles.
It was at Taku on our way down from Peking that Robertson, Jamieson and
I heard of this new attack on the legation. I believe our feeling was
rather one of regret that we had lost the opportunity of experiencing
one of the stirring events which we had already learnt to regard as
normally characteristic of life in Japan. It certainly did not take us
by surprise, and in no way rendered the service less attractive. But
Jamieson had found a better opening in Shanghai, and the remaining two
went on to Yokohama as soon as they could get a passage.