Chapter XIX · JAPAN. (continued 2)

We have seen that the British Government had already confessed its belief that the Tycoon's Government was incompetent to maintain order where foreigners were concerned. Yet until that Government itself should plead incompetence, foreign States could only hold it wholly accountable for all that was done affecting their interests. But the Tycoon's Government fought tooth and nail against such admission, resorting to every subterfuge to maintain their status, while yet evading the responsibilities of the position. The success of this ambiguous policy required that the foreign representatives should be kept in ignorance of the relations which subsisted between the different parties in the Japanese State. Hence secrecy and misdirection governed their diplomatic intercourse. The treaties themselves having been tainted from their origin with deception, every stage of their execution was marked by dissimulation, which came gradually to light as the pressure from within and from without caused now one corner, now another, of the curtain to be raised.

The Tycoon was between the upper and the nether millstone,—foreigners pressing him for fulfilment of his obligations, while a power greater than his own was demanding the complete repudiation, or at least the substantial curtailment, of all these obligations. The straits he was put to to keep up his two faces were pitiable and desperate, for he had to make the Mikado and the Daimios believe he was as much opposed to the foreigners as they were, while to foreigners he was professing loyalty and throwing the blame of the reaction on the hostile Daimios. Instigated by them, the Mikado had fully asserted his authority, and the Tycoon was no longer able to pose as the sovereign ruler of Japan. The allocation of a site for the foreign Legations on Gotenyama, a popular pleasure-ground in Yedo, was attacked, and the Tycoon ordered to rescind the grant, which he endeavoured to do by proposing the substitution of another site. This being refused by the British chargé d'affaires, the Japanese sentry on the buildings under construction was assassinated, and soon after the whole building was blown up and burned.[9] So ambiguous had become the attitude of the Tycoon, that Colonel Neale was in doubt whether this conflagration pleased or displeased the Yedo Government. (Six months later the buildings occupied by the United States Legation were likewise destroyed by fire.) The hostile Daimios, in the name of the Mikado, were, in fact, putting strong pressure on the Tycoon, while those Daimios who had favoured the treaties had been punished by confiscation of their revenues. The Tycoon's position was fast becoming untenable, and in the last extremity his advisers decided to take the foreign representatives for the first time into their confidence.

In January 1863 a Governor of Foreign Affairs informed Colonel Neale that the Mikado was angry because he had not been consulted about the treaties, either before or after the signing of them; and that his Majesty had ordered the Tycoon repeatedly to drive foreigners out of the country. "But," replied the British chargé d'affaires, "that is wholly inconsistent with what the Gorogiu previously told Sir Rutherford Alcock." "Quite so," rejoined the Governor; "only what the Ministers told Sir Rutherford Alcock was false." "But if one member of the Gorogiu can thus give the other the lie, what security have we that some successor of yours will not equally disavow what you say? so that at one time we have the Mikado reported as friendly and at another as hostile to foreign treaties and trade, and we shall never know which to believe." This not very promising beginning of "confidences" was quickly followed by singular confessions and proposals—part of the system of "frauds, stratagems, and deceptions practised by the Tycoon's Government," as Colonel Neale characterises them. The Tycoon's Government was ordered to communicate officially to the foreign representatives the mandate of the Mikado to drive out foreigners and close the ports. In obedience to this order a Governor of Foreign Affairs, in announcing the fact to the French Minister, softened its effect by explaining that this was carrying out the Mikado's orders "officially"; but "ce n'est là qu'un stratagème nécessaire pour tromper le peuple japonnais." In developing his plan of campaign the Governor laid bare to the French Minister the intention of the Tycoon to deceive the Mikado by pretending to share his views about foreigners; he was in like manner to deceive the Daimios. Ogasawara, the Minister who was responsible for carrying out the edict against foreigners, being "un homme très capable," would find a means of avoiding the execution; he would himself go to Kioto and make the Mikado listen to reason; if he refused, then he would pick a quarrel and employ force against the sovereign. In that case would the foreign Powers assist the Tycoon? All this, however, must be kept from Hitotsubashi, the First Minister of the Tycoon, "whose views were as yet uncertain whether to carry out the expulsive orders from Kioto or not. Ogasawara had formed the plan to declare himself the enemy of foreigners in order to deceive the high officers even of the Tycoon who might not be favourable to his scheme; but everything was to be done to "save Japan." Finally, Ogasawara was to come the day following himself to interview the foreign Ministers at Yokohama, but not a word of all this would he utter "for fear of indiscretions." He would only speak briefly to the point of the notification of the Mikado's order of expulsion. And if the foreign Ministers would be good enough to frame their reply to that message in such severe terms as would make an impression on the agitators in Kioto and Yedo, it would assist the patriotic schemes of this bustling statesman. So everybody in Japan from the highest to the lowest was to be bamboozled—even one's own colleagues in the Tycoon's service—and the only people with whom faith was to be kept were the detested foreigners, as represented by the Ministers of England and France! Well might Colonel Neale recoil in disgust from such a brewage of "fraud, stratagem, and deception." The Tycoon's officers had in all this one definite object in view, which was to induce the foreign squadrons then menacing Yedo to transfer themselves to Osaka and Hiogo and menace some one in that part of the empire. And, curiously enough, the presence of the French troops which had recently arrived in Yokohama was not only tolerated by the Tycoon, but they were to serve him as a lever whereby the astute Ogasawara was to work on the feelings of the Mikado, by representing to his sovereign the indignation of the foreign Governments and the difficulty of giving effect to an order for general expulsion, which would include a body of well-armed troops.

For while such comedies were being enacted at Yokohama the Tycoon himself was at Kioto under the friendly surveillance of the Mikado and his faithful Daimios, and it was a reasonable enough calculation that the vicinity of foreign fleets might tend to moderate the counsels of these recalcitrants, to ease the tension between the contending factions, and lighten the burden of the Tycoon.

Meantime the pressure of the British demands for redress of the two grievances was met by evasions and delays until the ultimatum stage was reached in June 1863. The pecuniary indemnity charged on the Tycoon, amounting to £110,000, was then paid under circumstances so peculiar as to be worth recounting as affording further insight into the agitations of the period. After exhaustive negotiations, leading to an ultimatum, an agreement was made whereby the Government was to pay the amount demanded by seven instalments, commencing 18th June 1863. On the 17th June Ogasawara, third member of the Gorogiu, wrote a curt note to say the money could not be paid owing to an "unforeseen circumstance," and postponing payment till 22nd June. On the 19th the same Minister wrote to Colonel Neale that he intended to have left Yedo for Yokohama for an interview, but was prevented by sudden illness. This was followed by an intimation from the Government that no payment whatever would be made. Diplomatic relations were thereupon broken off by the British chargé d'affaires, and the conduct of affairs was placed in the hands of the admiral. This brought about the interview with the French Minister above alluded to, when the Japanese emissaries promised to pay at once the whole amount due under the agreement with Colonel Neale, and the specie was actually conveyed in four cartloads to the British Legation on 24th June. The only explanation given of this strange shuffle was that the numerous enemies of the Tycoon and of foreigners were on the watch, and threatened terrible consequences if any money should be paid to the foreigners. That difficulty, however, had been surmounted by the resourceful Japanese Machiavel issuing strict orders that the payment should be kept a dead secret from all except the Governors of Foreign Affairs themselves,—the four cartloads of silver, drawn each by a dozen or two of men, grunting laboriously at the task, from the Japanese custom-house to the British Legation, remaining for this purpose conveniently invisible to a cloud of hostile witnesses.

The demands made on the Tycoon in respect of the attack on the British Legation and on the Richardson party being thus satisfied, it only remained to carry out the second portion of Earl Russell's instructions and exact equal satisfaction from the Prince of Satsuma, over whom the Yedo Government had shown itself to have no control whatever. Much delay had occurred, due to a variety of circumstances—mainly to the aggressive acts of another great Daimio, Choshiu, who possessed the western key of the Inland Sea. This might have necessitated a concentration of the British squadron in that spot—which actually came to pass a year later. Finally, however, Rear-Admiral Sir Augustus Kuper proceeded in August to the Bay of Kagoshima, the stronghold of the Satsuma principality, Colonel Neale accompanying him to present the demand on the prince with which he had been intrusted by the British Government.

The sole reply vouchsafed by the Daimio was a recommendation to Colonel Neale to return to Yedo and treat with the Tycoon, as Satsuma had no relations with Great Britain. It was now the admiral's turn to act, and his first step in the way of reprisal was the seizing of three steamers, then lying in the bay, which were soon burned to relieve the squadron of their charge. Thereupon the Daimio's forts opened fire, and a hot engagement ensued in the midst of a terrific gale, which the prince's people afterwards said was reckoned on as a condition favourable for his attack on the foreign ships. There was considerable loss of life on both sides; much damage was done to the Daimio's defences, arsenal, and magazines. But the inhabitants of the town escaped injury from the conflagration, they having previously been removed to places of safety. The squadron returned to the Bay of Yedo.

Within a short time the Prince of Satsuma sued for terms, paid the indemnity demanded, £25,000, promised to punish the murderer of Richardson, when caught, and became a good friend to the English, to the extent at least of desiring to cultivate relations with them.

Thus happily ended the first hostile encounter between Japan and any Western Power, the first demonstration of the superiority of foreign arms, and, as some think, the baptism of fire which was the inaugurating rite by which Japan entered into the comity and the competition of the Western nations, and into that path of material progress which has since led to such astonishing results.

The attitude of the Yedo Government in this affair may be said to have been one of placid observation. They had nothing to regret in the chastisement inflicted on a prince who set their authority at defiance.

In the interval of time between the settlement of the indemnities for the two outrages and the departure of the fleet for Kagoshima the Tycoon's Ministers had drawn closer and closer to the foreign representatives, and English steamers were chartered for conveyance of the Tycoon's troops to Osaka with the knowledge and approval of the British authorities. The defence of Yokohama was by the Government voluntarily confided to the English and French admirals, and sanguine hopes were held out to the foreign representatives that if the Tycoon should succeed in his endeavours at Kioto, foreign relations would assume a totally different aspect on his return to his capital.

On the other hand, while the negotiations with the Yedo Government had been dragging their slow length along, another of the great princes had taken arms against the foreign Powers indiscriminately. The Daimio Choshiu had made a strong stand against foreign intercourse, and in a well-reasoned and moderately worded letter addressed to the Tycoon in May 1862 he urged union between that high officer and the Mikado in order that the country might be placed in a condition to resist foreigners. The territory of the Prince of Nagato, as he was also designated, commanded the narrow strait of Shimonoséki, which connects the Suwonada, or Inland Sea, with the outer waters. This had become the regular route of steamers between the Bay of Yedo and the south of Japan, as at this day.

Moved by an impulse which was not cleared up at the time, if ever it has been since, Choshiu began in July 1863 to fire from his forts and from armed vessels in the straits on passing steamers. French, American, and Dutch war-vessels were successively bombarded as they entered the passage. The fire was returned, and damage inflicted on the Daimio's batteries; but such was the power of their guns and their precision of aim that many were killed and wounded on the foreign ships, some of which were obliged to retire without getting through the strait. The prince remained obdurate and continued his hostile proceedings, a steamer belonging to the Tycoon and another belonging to Satsuma, said to be the friend and ally of Choshiu, coming in for the customary salutation as they passed. He embargoed or destroyed trading junks attempting to pass the straits, and thus established an effective blockade of the great commercial artery of Japan.

It was droll to find Satsuma, soon after the affair of Kagoshima, appealing to the Mikado against these outrages of Nagato, and opposing the reactionary policy of his quondam ally. Satsuma had had his lesson; Nagato had yet to receive his.

Sir Rutherford Alcock returned to his post after two years' furlough. His distinguished services had been recognised by the Queen's Government, who conferred on him the honour of Knight Commander of the Bath. In the same year, 1862, he completed his valuable work, 'The Capital of the Tycoon,' which for the first time brought the real Japan of that day to the knowledge of the reading world. This, the most important single literary work left by the busy pen of Sir Rutherford Alcock, is a storehouse of information on the history, civilisation, politics, religion, art, and industry of Japan, carefully sifted and presented in the most attractive form. It contains, moreover, a vivid narrative of the reopening of international intercourse with that country, and of the stirring incidents which marked the earlier years of its progress. It is also a philosophical study at first hand of the most remarkable political evolution that history records. Considering the official activity and high tension under which the materials were gathered, the writing of such a book, of a Japanese Grammar, and other literary and artistic studies, is a proof of the intellectual detachment which is usually associated with the higher order of mind. This work of a single pioneer observer has well borne the scrutiny of the innumerable host of students, grave and gay, who have followed in the same path. After forty years its authority remains intact. A short extract will at once show the character of the book and afford a convenient summary of the then Government of Japan:—

That the Mikado is the hereditary sovereign of the empire, the descendant of a long and uninterrupted line of sovereigns of the same dynasty, and the only sovereign de jure recognised by all Japanese from the Tycoon to the lowest beggar—a true sovereign in all the legal attributes of sovereignty; and that the Tycoon receives investiture from him as his lieutenant or generalissimo, and as such only, the head of the executive, is known to most readers of the present day. True, the Mikados have been shorn of much of their power since Yoritomo, in 1143, profiting by civil commotions among the princes of the land, and armed with power as generalissimo to humble these turbulent chiefs, only suppressed the troubles to arrogate to himself the greater part of the sovereign power under the title given by a grateful master of Ziogun. Another Pepin d'Héristal and mayor of the palace, he did not care to dethrone the descendant of an illustrious line of emperors, and was content with holding the reins, and transmitting the same privilege to his descendants. And so the power continued divided in great degree, the shadow from the substance, until later, towards the close of the sixteenth century, a peasant's son and favourite attendant of the actual generalissimo, but known in Japanese history by the name he afterwards assumed of Taiko Sama, raised himself, apparently by great abilities as well as daring, to the seat of power on his master's death, and stripped the reigning Mikado of the last remains of secular power.

Since that time the successive emperors, or Mikados, are brought into the world, and live and die within the precincts of their Court at Miaco (Kioto), the boundaries of which they never pass during their whole life. Is it possible to conceive a less desirable destiny? But the Zioguns, or Tycoons, as they are styled in European treaties, have long been undergoing a somewhat analogous process, under which all substantial power has been transferred from them to the principal Daimios, or Princes, who form a Great Council of State, and whose nominee the Tycoon himself has become, as well, I believe, as all his chief Ministers or councillors. They exercise, if they do not claim, the right of removing both Tycoon and Ministers, and a voice potential in all affairs of State. For legislative changes even the almost forgotten Mikado must indeed give his consent, never of course refused when any unanimity prevails....

The Mikado of the day is the exact type of the last descendant of Clovis, sitting "sad and solitary, effeminate and degenerate," doomed only to wield "a barren sceptre" and sigh away a burdensome and useless existence of mock pageantry; never permitted to pass the gates of his prison-palace....

This double machinery of a titular sovereign who only reigns, and a lieutenant of the empire who only governs and does not reign, from generation to generation, is certainly something very curious; and by long continuance it seems to have led to a duplicate system such as never existed in any other part of the world, carried out to almost every detail of existence. Every office is doubled; every man is alternately a watcher and watched. Not only the whole administrative machinery is in duplicate, but the most elaborate system of check and countercheck, on the most approved Machiavellian principle, is here developed with a minuteness and perfection as regards details difficult at first to realise. As upon all this is grafted a system of more than oriental mendacity, we feel launched into a world of shadows and make-believes hard to grapple with in the practical business of life. Of their mendacity and cynical views respecting it I had many illustrations. One of the official gentry upon a particular occasion having been found by a foreign Minister in deliberate contradiction with himself, was asked, somewhat abruptly perhaps, how he could reconcile it to his conscience to utter such palpable untruths. With perfect calmness and self-possession he replied, "I told you last month that such and such a thing had been done, and now I tell you the thing has not been done at all. I am an officer whose business it is to carry out the instructions I receive and to say what I am told to say. What have I to do with its truth or falsehood?"...

To return to the Tycoon and the governors of the early middle ages, with its suzerain and feudatories, its fiefs and a phantom king, with hereditary mayors of the palace and chiefs with 10,000 retainers, each one holding himself as good as the Tycoon, who must live in constant dread of open revolt or secret assassination, what a pleasant state of existence for all parties it reveals! Each of these territorial magnates or great Daimios is practically independent of the Tycoon when within his own territory, with power of life and death over all his subjects and dependants; ... even an imperial passport will not secure an intruder's life....

Power has passed in no small degree from the Tycoon's hands, as it formerly did from the Mikado's, and now remains chiefly in an executive Council of State, consisting of five Ministers, and these again held in no small check, if not in subservience, by the Daimios and feudal chiefs of the higher order, amounting to some 360. Although these do not actually form a Chamber of Lords nor assemble in a body at stated periods, nothing legislative, it is said, can be done without their assent obtained.... They hold themselves too high to demean themselves by taking part in the administration, or holding office, under the Tycoon. But neither the Tycoon nor the Ministers, separately or collectively, can venture upon a change in their laws and customs without their sanction and a further confirmation by the phantom sovereign of Miaco....

In the mean time, between the Mikado who nominally wields the sceptre—the Tycoon, a youth who no less nominally governs the kingdom, and is but fourth in rank in the Japan red-book, for three of the Mikado's officers take precedence—and the Daimios great and small, ... the administrative machinery of the realm seems to be kept in order.

Another incident of the year was Sir Rutherford Alcock's second marriage to a friend of the earlier Shanghai days, the widow of the Rev. T. Lowder, first consular chaplain of that settlement. They had been both widowed about the same time. They were about the same age too, and the union, based on a deep-rooted and matured affection, proved an exceptionally happy one during thirty-five years, till death divided them. Lady Alcock accompanied her husband on his return to Japan, where they arrived in March 1864.

During the two years of the Minister's absence affairs in Japan had, as we have seen, been advancing rapidly—whether towards a reasonable solution or to a catastrophe was as yet doubtful. The agitation against the foreign treaties had been gathering force and consistency; the Tycoon's position was becoming more and more precarious, his existence being pledged to the annulment of the hated treaties. Encouraged by the success which had attended his mission to Europe in 1862, he despatched another in the beginning of 1864, to represent to the European Governments that the public feeling in Japan was growing worse every day, that the Tycoon would not be able to protect foreigners in Yokohama, and that, in short, the port must be closed and foreign trade confined to Hakodate and Nagasaki. The mission, already on its way, was met by Sir Rutherford Alcock in Shanghai, where he had an opportunity of personal conference with the envoys. The situation was thus summarised by the Minister in a despatch to the Foreign Office, 31st March 1864:—

It is just two years since I left Japan in order to be present in London when the first mission sent by the Tycoon to the treaty Powers in Europe should arrive. Returning to my post a month ago, I met a second mission on its way to the same Courts. These two embassies seem to me to form very significant events in the history of Japan and its relations with foreign States.... I consider the signing of the protocol of June 1862 (afterwards adopted with unimportant modifications by all the other Powers), freely granting without abatement all that the Tycoon asked, was the culminating act and fitting end of the conciliatory policy so consistently adhered to from the beginning. It was impossible to concede more without abandoning the treaties altogether. Thenceforth it only remained to gather the promised fruit of greater security to life, and freer intercourse within narrowed limits, which, for the moment at least, appeared unattainable in the wider range of five ports and two cities.... The avowed object of the second mission is to declare that all the hopes held out by the Tycoon of the probable results of the first concessions have been illusory.... The only fruit has been indiscriminate aggression, increased insecurity, calling for measures of coercion on the part of all the treaty Powers; finally, a decree for the expulsion of foreigners, with a mission from the Tycoon to declare his utter inability to maintain the treaties, and to suggest a surrender of all the rights and privileges they were framed to secure in perpetuity.

The mission was not successful in its main purpose, and soon returned to Japan to report progress.

VI. THE CRISIS.

Foreign rights must be sustained by force or definitively abandoned—Organises a retaliatory demonstration against Nagato—Forts at Shimonoséki attacked by international squadron, after delays—Satisfactory results—Nagato claims authority of Mikado for his attacks on foreign ships—His defeat gave courage to Tycoon—Anti-foreign measures promptly withdrawn—The treaties of 1858 ratified by Mikado—Sir R. Alcock's recall—Lord Russell's amende.

The Tycoon's Government had actually succeeded by patient persistence in evil-doing in making Yedo "too hot to hold" the foreign representatives, who had in consequence gradually accustomed themselves to residence in the freer air of Yokohama. "Incendiarism and assassination had done their work and effected the end for which they were employed," writes Sir Rutherford Alcock, who goes on to remark that "the recovery of this lapsed right" (of residence in the capital) "will have now to follow, not precede, other measures." So far had the foreign nations retreated before the forces of reaction, forces which necessarily acquired cohesion and momentum with each retrograde step of the opposing Powers. The country, meaning thereby the official hierarchy, was now at least, if not before, practically unanimous. Mikado, Daimios, the Tycoon himself, however they may have been embittered by their mutual jealousies, were now united, and passionately united, in the determination to expel the foreigners, so far as it might be possible,—on which latter point, however, there was room for great differences of opinion. The Prince of Nagato might be a rebel against the Tycoon's or the Mikado's authority, both of whom had disavowed his proceedings, but his determination to block the passage of the Inland Sea and suppress all trade but his own was an important part of the national policy of expulsion. It appeared that the only friend of foreigners at that time was the Prince of Satsuma, who had become a changed man since his stronghold was bombarded, and he began to see that the restoration of imperial rule and deposition of the Tycoon might be accomplished by the assistance of foreigners. That event was undoubtedly accelerated by the policy of the first two British ministers in Japan.

The new position was reviewed under a sense of deep personal responsibility by Sir Rutherford Alcock in several despatches during the spring of 1864, and, as we have seen, the conclusion he arrived at was that the utmost limit of concession to Japanese exigencies had been reached: everything had been given up to them that could be given up without abandoning the treaties entirely and leaving the country. There was not even room left for negotiation. "No attempt at a compromise of such conflicting pretensions could possibly succeed." "Compromise or concession is plainly impossible in the nature of things." Moreover, Earl Russell had enjoined on both the chargé d'affaires and the Minister to stand firmly for their rights. His latest instruction to Sir Rutherford Alcock on his departure from England was, "You will in any case require from the Tycoon and the Daimios the execution of the treaty." In the face of a determination to annul the treaties this necessitated some vigorous action.

The most obvious and most straightforward course indicated was to deal a decisive blow against the Prince of Nagato, who for nearly twelve months had set the whole of the Western Powers at defiance. He was more accessible from the salt water than even Satsuma; he was repudiated, hypocritically or not, by his sovereign; and a punitive expedition to Shimonoséki would not involve detriment to trade or inflict injury on innocent people. Such an operation had, moreover, much to recommend it from the point of view of general Japanese policy; for "in attacking in his stronghold the most violent and rash of his class, it may be possible," said the British Minister, "by one blow to paralyse the whole body of Daimios.... The command of the Inland Sea and the whole internal trade of that portion of Japan which must of necessity be in our hands during any operations would do more, probably, to bring the Court of the Mikado and of Yedo to a sense of the danger and folly of entering upon hostilities with the treaty Powers than any course of diplomacy.... The alternative is a probable catastrophe, and a war of a protracted kind at no distant period."

About this time the appeals which for two years had been made in vain to the British military authorities in China for a sufficient force to give security at Yokohama were listened to, and a regiment of infantry, the 20th, and of marines, were detached from Hongkong and a force of Beloochis from Shanghai. One of the anomalies of an unprecedented situation was that the Government, which was concerting measures to expel all foreigners, was nevertheless constrained to provide accommodation for these troops, "which were not to make war, but to prevent acts which would lead to war." For all that, the presence of foreign troops on the sacred soil was far from palatable, even though the Tycoon might secretly acquiesce in the reasoning by which the British Minister had commended a measure which was in any case an unavoidable necessity.

The arrival of these troops had a marked effect on the tactics of the Tycoon. For ten months his Government, which had been powerless and passive regarding the warlike proceeding of Choshiu, now became alarmed lest the foreigners were about to take the law into their own hands with that recalcitrant Prince. The Tycoon's Ministers began to affect much concern for his punishment and repression. They would at once move against him, and until the result of their efforts was known they urged that the British garrison should remain absolutely passive in Yokohama.

For effective action against the Daimio Choshiu it was necessary that an agreement should be come to among the treaty Powers, three of whom had been in actual collision with his batteries and armed ships. Individually Great Britain had not received this direct provocation, and was only interested in the general question of the obstruction to commerce and in the maintenance of the political status of the Powers. How the concert was brought about would be an interesting inquiry, but we may safely conclude that the achievement owed much to two causes, one positive and one negative. The former was the strong will, clear sight, and absolute fearlessness of responsibility of the British Minister; the latter was the non-existence of any ocean telegraph. For, as we have so frequently seen nearer home, the direct efforts of the Great Powers to arrive at any agreement for common action are always protracted, often abortive, and seldom successful. The decision in this case had to be taken by the agents on the spot, personally intimate with each other, acting on general principles and on a free interpretation of the instructions from their Governments. And so it came to pass that within three months after Sir Rutherford Alcock's arrival in Japan the Ministers of France, the United States, the Netherlands, and Great Britain had signed a protocol in which they agreed to make a fresh representation in the nature of an ultimatum to the Tycoon's Government, calling upon it to adopt means to put an end to the hostilities of the Prince of Nagato, and informing it that on no account would their Governments allow the port of Yokohama to be closed. This agreement of May 1864 was the natural sequel to a declaration of 25th July 1863, by which the same four Powers had intimated to the Tycoon the necessity of reopening the Inland Sea, but which had remained without any acknowledgment by the Government. The new note identique addressed to the Gorogiu was equally left unacknowledged by that body.

Nothing therefore remained but to take the respective naval commanders into counsel. The Ministers had no authority over them, but it was quickly found that the concert of admirals and captains was as perfect as that of the diplomatic body. The ships of the four Powers—Great Britain, France, United States, and Netherlands—were placed under the command of Vice-Admiral Sir Augustus Kuper, and a plan of action was settled upon.

The advance to Shimonoséki was still, however, delayed by two circumstances. The first was the return from Europe of two Japanese students, out of five who had been sent there the previous year by that very Prince of Choshiu against whom coercive measures were about to be undertaken. These young men, hearing while abroad of the proceedings of their chief, and convinced, from what they had seen in Europe, of the overwhelming resources of the Powers, that Choshiu was bringing disaster on himself in forcing battle on such antagonists, resolved to hurry back to Japan with the express object of warning their prince of his danger. The arrival of the two youths in Yedo was thought by the foreign Ministers to offer some chance of coming to terms with Choshiu without the arbitrament of arms, and accordingly facilities were afforded by Vice-Admiral Kuper for landing the two travellers at the nearest convenient point to their prince's territory. They were intrusted with overtures of peace in the form of a long memorandum from the British Minister, reviewing the whole situation, and explaining the attitude of the Powers and the hopelessness of the armed resistance of any Daimio. The messengers brought back to the rendezvous, where a light-draught vessel waited for them, an oral reply from the prince explaining his attitude and asking for three months' delay to enable Choshiu to confer with the Mikado and Tycoon, by whose orders he had done what he had done, and without whose consent he dare not change his policy. It is interesting to recall the fact that the names of the two youthful emissaries were Ito and Inouyé, who have since played so distinguished and honourable a part in the development of their country.

The second cause of suspension of action against Choshiu was the news of a convention concluded in Paris between the Japanese envoys and the French Foreign Minister, dated June 20, 1864, in which this very object of the reopening of the Straits of Shimonoséki was provided for. Were this convention to be ratified by the Tycoon the immediate cause of dispute would be removed. The matter, however, was disposed of with more than its accustomed promptitude by the Japanese Government, who curtly refused to ratify the French convention. The Tycoon's Ministers declared themselves unable to carry out the agreement, and to ratify it would merely be to add another to their too onerous obligations. Admiral Kuper was finally given a free hand on August 25, and before the middle of September the forts and ships of the recalcitrant prince were completely destroyed by the Allied squadrons, not without considerable resistance and some loss to the assailants. The action was conducted with admirable harmony among the officers engaged, and the reciprocity of compliments between the respective commanders-in-chief, especially between the French and English admirals, is edifying reading in these later days.

The negotiations which followed on board the British flagship ended in the most satisfactory manner. Choshiu submitted with a good grace, while apologetically throwing the blame of his hostile proceedings on the two higher authorities, the Mikado and the Tycoon.

All the Daimios had been notified of the decision of the Mikado and the Tycoon to break off relations with foreigners from 20th June 1863. Three days after this notice its purport was confirmed, and a positive order given to "make military preparations with diligence that the ugly barbarians may be swept out." This was promptly followed by a third yet more explicit. "Bearing this in mind" (the date of expulsion, 20th June 1863), "you must omit nothing which is required to complete the maritime defences of your province, and you must be ready to sweep them off should they attack you unawares." A liberal interpretation of these imperial decrees might be held to cover the aggressive proceedings of the most powerful Daimio in the empire, whose province happened to command its most important strategic position, and who watched the continual passing of foreign ships under the guns of his forts. The time when Choshiu commenced his attacks on passing ships coincided so exactly with the date assigned by the Mikado for the general rupture with foreigners, that it is hardly possible to dissociate his act from the scheme of his suzerain. When subsequently called before the council, Choshiu boldly defied both Tycoon and Mikado, declaring that he alone had obeyed the imperial mandate, and deserved gratitude for executing single-handed the law of the empire for the extermination of foreigners. The rupture was decreed for June 20. The American steamer Pembroke was fired on on the 25th, being, no doubt, the first foreign vessel to pass the straits after the 20th. Whatever ulterior designs this great feudatory may have entertained, therefore, he was not altogether without provocation in making a raid on the Mikado's capital, which he did in the month of August following, and for which he was condemned by his suzerain to a term of seclusion within his palace, the usual form of punishment of an offending feudatory, which implies much more than would appear from this mild definition.

On the capture of the forts at Shimonoséki the Government at once stepped in and assumed all the obligations, pecuniary and other, which the issue of the collision imposed on the Prince of Nagato. The town of Shimonoséki had been spared, but held to ransom. A convention was signed whereby the Tycoon agreed to pay an indemnity of three million dollars, which was eventually paid in full, the last instalment of it after the fall of the Shôgunate.

Taking heart of grace from his defeat by foreigners, the Tycoon, if not the Mikado also, began to coerce Choshiu on his own account. Not being able to reach him conveniently in his principality, the Tycoon's Government set to work to destroy his vast establishment at Yedo. The fire brigade was employed in this work, and such was the extent of it that several thousand men were said to be engaged for three days in burning down the buildings and fittings. Moreover, when categorically questioned by the foreign Minister whether, now that Satsuma and Choshiu had been brought under control, "the Tycoon would find it possible to give full effect to the treaties, and to deal with any recalcitrant or rebellious Daimios," the confidential Minister of the Tycoon replied without hesitation, "Yes, certainly."

The defeat of the two most warlike of the Daimios illuminated the situation and cleared the way for more intelligent action all round. To the Japanese Government it was once for all demonstrated that it was not by force of arms that the "ugly barbarians" were to be driven from the country. The foreign fleets were for the time being invincible, and the Powers had also shown themselves ready not only to act, but to act together. There was, besides, a strong garrison of foreign troops in Yokohama—a British force of 1200 men of all arms, with a marked tendency to increase. The Mikado and the Tycoon wisely acquiesced in the situation, so far as foreigners were concerned, not necessarily abandoning their policy, but at any rate deferring its execution.

Their immediate attention was directed to the internal commotions of the country, which could not now be long in coming to an explosion. A new planet had intersected their system and upset its balance. There could be no rest, therefore, until a new equilibrium was found. Foreign forces chastising the great feudatories, with the tacit acquiescence and for the benefit of the suzerain, could only be a step either towards dissolution and subjugation, or towards renaissance and national unity. Feudalism had had its day and served its turn; it was wholly incompatible with the new relations which had been imposed on the country by the foreign Powers. But where is the State, ancient or modern, that could entirely remodel itself, as it were, on the field of battle and in front of the enemy? That must remain the proud speciality of Japan.

The effect of the action at Shimonoséki on the position of foreigners was at once made apparent in various ways. The Tycoon's Government had laid a secret embargo on raw silk sent to market at Yokohama as part and parcel of the general imperial design of closing that port, or, in the alternative, of a gigantic scheme of Government monopoly of the whole foreign trade, such being the only form of commerce for which the Japanese officials had any real sympathy. The stoppage had lasted three months. After Choshiu's defeat the restrictions were at once officially withdrawn, though considerable efforts were still required to give full effect to the withdrawal. Once more, also, "the Tycoon resolved to abandon the policy of equivocation and duplicity," and to inform the Mikado frankly of the impossibility of closing the port or of refusing to maintain the treaties.

The moment seemed opportune for raising the question of the ratification of the treaties by the Mikado, in respect to which Sir Rutherford Alcock made certain plain statements in a letter addressed to the Tycoon in person. "There exists," he said, "a want of accord on the subject of foreign relations between the Mikado and Tycoon.... The Mikado, by requiring the abrogation of treaties, has reduced the Tycoon to the alternative of either disobeying his legitimate sovereign or bringing on his country all the calamities of war.... The only solution of the difficulty that promises either peace or security is the ratification of the treaties by the Mikado." The four foreign representatives simultaneously pressed the same consideration on the Government, eliciting from the Japanese Ministers the admission, "We perfectly agree with you, it should now take place."

It now became the business of the British Minister to show to his Government that the proceedings at Shimonoséki fulfilled in every point the instructions he had received from the Foreign Office. This he did in a despatch dated September 28, 1864, and so convincingly that Earl Russell wrote in reply—

Your despatch of the 28th of September is a successful vindication of the policy you have pursued.... My despatches of the 26th of July were written with a view to discourage the interruption of a progressive trade by acts of hostility, and to forbid recourse to force while the treaty was generally observed. Those despatches, you will understand, remain in full force.

But the documents you have sent me, which arrived by the last mail, show that the silk trade was almost wholly interrupted by the Tycoon, who seemed to be preparing to abet or to abandon the project of driving out foreigners according to the boldness or the timidity of our demeanour.

In this position there could be no better course than to punish and disarm the Daimio Prince Nagato.

That course had these three separate advantages:—

1. It gave the best promise of concurrence of the four Powers, as France, Holland, and the United States had all been sufferers from the Prince of Choshiu's violations of treaty, while we were most exposed to risk and loss by any Japanese attack on Yokohama.

2. It involved proceeding only against a rebellious vassal, and not against the Mikado or the Tycoon.

3. If the operation should prove successful, the four Powers were under no obligation to undertake further hostilities unless fresh provocation should be received.

Her Majesty's Government have received with great satisfaction the account of the naval operations of the four squadrons, and their result, contained in your despatch of September 28. Those operations were conducted in the most gallant manner; the loss was not considerable; the four Powers acted in harmony together; no defenceless city suffered during the hostilities; and the terms granted to the offending Daimio were moderate towards him, and sufficient for us.

I have only to add, that I am commanded to express to you her Majesty's full approbation of your conduct.

So far so good. But the slow mail service of those days, and the entire absence of the telegraph, admitted of wonderful interpolations in correspondence with such far-off countries as Japan. Events marched quicker than the course of post could follow them, and despatches were sometimes written which the writer would have given a good deal to recall. Such was the case here. We have said that soon after Sir Rutherford Alcock's return to Japan he addressed some weighty despatches to the Foreign Office on the situation, undoubtedly leading up to the ultimate employment of force in vindication of the foreign treaties. This was in full accord with the spirit of Earl Russell's instructions dated December 17, 1863. These were—

1. To require from the Tycoon and the Daimios the execution of the engagements of the treaty.

2. To consult the admiral and any military officer who may be sent to Japan as to the means of strengthening and holding our position in Yokohama.

3. To endeavour to procure from Hongkong the services of a regiment of infantry.

4. The admiral to be authorised to land marines and destroy the batteries which have been erected for the evident purpose of interrupting the passage of our merchandise, &c.; but he must take care that no unarmed and peaceable town should be bombarded.

But when the Foreign Secretary received the Minister's despatches of May, following the terms of these instructions to their only logical conclusion, he became alarmed at the prospect of active measures, and by despatch of August 8 he recalled the Minister under the pretext of the need of a personal consultation on the state of affairs. This was followed up by some temporising despatches, saying the Inland Sea was of no consequence; that the Tycoon was professing an intention to do all that was necessary; and that the Tycoon and Mikado, seeing the British forces strong though passive, would gradually drop all hostile policy. How were these vacillating utterances to be reconciled with the position so decidedly taken up eight months before?

A disturbing influence had intervened, causing Lord Russell to see Japan at an oblique angle. Certain other brave words of the Foreign Secretary in that year, 1864, in connection with the Danish Duchies, had also had their current turned awry and lost the name of action. Japan was but an echo. Of course, after the definite energetic policy of the Queen's representative in Japan had proved a brilliant success, had involved no complications, had, in fact, been the means of temporarily uniting four of the treaty Powers, Lord Russell was ready enough to make the amende to Sir Rutherford Alcock, though to have cancelled his order of recall would have been too frank an admission of error to expect from any statesman. In this manner was the career of Sir Rutherford Alcock in Japan brought to an abrupt, but highly honourable, conclusion. He received his letter of recall while in the act of completing the final convention with the Tycoon respecting the affair of the Prince of Choshiu. The announcement was heard in Japan almost with consternation. The Tycoon's Ministers were particularly grieved about it, and they sent a strongly-worded letter to Earl Russell to be laid before the Queen, dwelling on the important services the envoy had rendered to their country, and begging that he might be sent back to them as soon as the urgent affairs that required his presence in England had been settled. The mercantile communities of the treaty ports were no less warm in their commendation of the services rendered to them and to general commerce by the decided measures adopted by the Minister, and in their regret at his departure. "The principal triumph of your success," they said in a farewell address, "lies in the fact that you have accomplished all this not only without causing a collision between her Majesty's Government and that of the Tycoon, but by actually strengthening the Government from which you obtained the concessions, as well as by acting in such a way as to secure the cordial co-operation of the foreign Ministers resident at this port."

Admiral Kuper took so serious a view of the loss of a representative of such unrivalled experience and virility, that he took it on himself to address to the Minister privately a weighty appeal, on public and patriotic grounds, to postpone his departure until at least he had time to refer again to the Foreign Office, which on subsequent information must certainly take a different view of the action of their Minister. That the admiral correctly appreciated the attitude of the Foreign Office is sufficiently shown by Lord Russell's despatches already quoted, and by that dated January 31, 1865, which concludes, "I shall wish you to return at once to Yokohama, to perform in Japan such additional meritorious services as may be expected from your tried ability and long experience." But Sir Rutherford Alcock did not consider that the episode would have left him the prestige necessary for further useful service in Japan, and he declined to return to that country.

Sir Rutherford remained at his post long enough to secure the fulfilment of the primary objects of the Allied expedition against Choshiu: the reopening of trade, which had been practically closed both at Yokohama and Nagasaki, and a number of most important improvements in the conditions of foreign residence in Yokohama. These comprised a parade-ground and racecourse, hospitals, slaughter-houses, filling in of swamp, a clear and convenient site for consular buildings, a good carriage-road seven miles in circuit, away from the town, and various other extensions of the comforts of foreign residents.

The ratification of the treaties, too, by the Mikado was virtually arranged. The very day before Sir Rutherford Alcock embarked for England he was enabled to report to his Government that the law interdicting intercourse and putting all foreigners under the ban of outlawry had been modified, and its hostile provisions repealed. This was considered tantamount to the Mikado's acknowledgment of the Tycoon's treaties, and thus the vice of illegality which had attached to them from their origin was at last removed. A year later the Mikado distinctly and in so many words approved of the treaties. This, therefore, may fairly be considered Sir Rutherford Alcock's last service to his country in Japan. It was not, however, till 1868, after the attack on Sir H. Parkes while on his way to the palace of the Mikado, that an edict was published, over the imperial sign manual, decreeing that the lives of foreigners in Japan were thenceforth to be deemed as sacred as the lives of the subjects of the empire.

But it would not have been Japan without an assassination to mark the close of the Minister's eventful career. Two officers of the British garrison, Major Baldwin and Lieutenant Bird, on an excursion on horseback to the romantic district of Kamakura, and near the celebrated bronze statue of Buddha, were stealthily attacked in broad day by a couple of two-sworded men, and mercilessly cut down. One of them lived late into the night, spoke, and drank tea, when the assassins, or accomplices in the crime, paid another visit to the dying man and, as in the case of Richardson, despatched him with ghastly ferocity. The Tycoon might truthfully say, "An enemy hath done this"; but the position of the Government had been so much strengthened by the collapse of Choshiu that the Tycoon's officers were no longer afraid of pursuing the criminals and bringing them to justice, especially as they happened to be ronin, or masterless men. "Twelve similar onslaughts," wrote Sir Rutherford, "have been made on foreigners, and in no one instance has justice had its due." For "even in the only case where men were executed, the Government did not venture in exposing their heads to declare their crime, or admit that it was for an attack upon foreigners." The present case was to prove an exception to the hitherto unbroken rule. Within a month certain accomplices in the crime were brought to punishment in Yokohama, and there one of the principals, who was executed in presence of British officers, died boasting of his crime and claiming the highest patriotic sanction for it.

Sir Rutherford and Lady Alcock took their departure from Yokohama on December 24, 1864.

VII. THE BIRTH OF NEW JAPAN.

Four years of civil strife—Cessation of efforts to eject foreigners—The adoption of foreign appliances—Educational missions—Unanimity of Japanese in cultivating foreign intercourse—The merits of those who promoted the movement—Sir R. Alcock's services in the cause of Japanese progress—His services to Japanese art.

"Is this the commencement of a civil war?" wrote the British Minister during his first year of residence in Japan. When he left the civil war was well advanced. Feverish energy was being displayed by every party in the State. There was a race for foreign ships and armaments among the Daimios; the Tycoon was involved in a struggle for existence; the legitimate sovereign was asserting his authority, and the feudatories were rallying to his support. Neither the immediate nor the remote issues were clear, but the sword was out of the scabbard, and would not be sheathed again until a new order of things should be established.

The civil strife, which ended within four years in the abolition of feudalism and the assumption by the Mikado by divine right of all administrative functions, may be called revolution, restoration, or merely evolution, according to the point of view from which we regard it. The hand of the foreigner had loosened the stone from the mountain-side, but it rolled down by its own laws. The introduction of foreigners into the country brought down vengeance on the Tycoon as the responsible agent. To abase him and transfer the sceptre to another house was perhaps as far as the views of the hostile princes in the first instance extended. The consummation of the movement in the unification of the State, though its natural fruit, grew and ripened with a rapidity which bewildered the lookers-on. From the moment when the goal was descried a profound unanimity of sentiment urged the leaders towards it, the territorial magnates being themselves the first to propose the abolition of the privileges, titles, and responsibilities of their order, which stood in the way of nationality in the larger sense. But wide and manifold as were the issues raised in the course of the brief but fierce struggle, it concerns us chiefly to remember that the avowed impulse which gave the first impetus to the whole was the passionate purpose of expelling the foreigner. This was the rallying cry that brought the entire nation into line. The presence of the foreigner on the soil sacred to the gods was an insult and a deep humiliation. The manifestoes of the Daimios, their invective against the Tycoon, the distress of the Mikado and his constant imploring appeals for help to purge the land of its defilement, testify to the sincerity and universality of the feeling. In that sentiment there was no difference between Tycoon and Mikado, the Daimios attached to the one and those attached to the other: they were only divided as to the time and the means, the risks and the consequences.

From the first the foreigners had evidence of the tenacious character of the Japanese: their persistency in face of difficulties and discouragements, and, above all, their readiness, not only to risk, but deliberately to sacrifice, their lives in the pursuit of an object. Such a spirit would render any people formidable,—most formidable when united in a common purpose; and their genius for combination is one of their most typical characteristics. What these qualities have already led to the world has partly seen; what they will hereafter lead to is perhaps as much hidden from our generation as the phenomena of the present were from the preceding one. But from the earliest days of the new intercourse it was hardly possible to misconstrue the seriousness of the Japanese people, though their refinement of taste, especially in art, their pleasant vices, and their addiction to light and frivolous recreation, often masked their more solid qualities. One word may possibly reconcile the seeming contradiction. They are an intensely vital people, living every part of their lives earnestly, which, however, is no synonym for solemnly. The gravest and the gayest have their appointed place in the social system, whose parts appear to be co-ordinated as if the whole were a direct inspiration of nature itself, elastic, accommodating, ever renewing itself, and yet so highly organised that there is no unemployed surplus, no waste material, nothing that does not find an effective place in the great cosmic product. That many practical men have misjudged the Japanese is beyond doubt. Indeed it is the so-called practical men who are the most apt to misjudge human phenomena, seeing that their system leaves out of account all they do not understand, which is usually a good deal. It was long thought that the Japanese were mere copyists and imitators, and disparaging epithets have been applied to them under that misapprehension. But, rightly considered, their very imitation was the clearest proof of their depth. They had been overcome by the foreigner, therefore they would help themselves to his weapons—all his weapons, educational, scientific, ethical, and not merely the machinery of war. This was not imitation, but adaptation and assimilation. It was no more imitation than what is seen every day among Americans, for instance, who so successfully "exploit" the ideas of Europe, and improve on them. It gradually dawned upon the intelligent few who watched the process from the beginning that the adaptation of European customs and costume was nothing but a strict application of the laws of evolution. The Japanese began spontaneously to appropriate ideas from the dress of Europeans; modifications, scarce perceptible, were adopted at first by servants. Certain malefactors advertised for by the Yedo police as early as 1862 were described as wearing "riding trousers and coats of tight foreign fashion." Each article of attire was adopted on its merits, for convenience and for no other reason, one of the first items being buttons. Strange combinations were sometimes seen, such as a billycock hat, or policeman's cast-off coat with a few buttons left on, surmounting a pair of bare legs shod with wooden clogs. Such bizarre combinations were not uncommon during the time of transition. The growing habits of travel necessitated a revolution in the coiffure. The ancient custom of shaving part of the head and training the truncated queue required a staff of skilled barbers to accompany every travelling party. The expense and inconvenience were intolerable, and so the old head-dressing had to go the way of obsolete things.

The Japanese deliberately resolved to learn every secret thing that any foreign nation possessed. To do this they had to be conciliatory, so as to gain access to schools, laboratories, arsenals, factories of every kind. Japanese swarmed in the workshops of Europe and America; they took military, naval, mercantile, and industrial service wherever they could get it.[10] In such pursuits an outlandish costume would have been a severe handicap, not merely marking them as strangers, but hampering them for the mechanical work they might be engaged in. To be the comrades of the foreign workmen they must dress like them, and minimise all personal peculiarities. It is often said by those who regret the change that the native dress was so becoming, and that the Japanese looked ever so much nicer in their own than in foreign garb—which may be true, though irrelevant. To look nice was not what they were aiming at. They had to join the family of nations, to become men of the world, to comply with all civilised observances, and as much as in them lay to avoid attracting notice to their nationality. Such a programme necessitated adoption of the common costume of the Western nations, and if we do not accuse German, French, English, and Americans of being imitators, who for similar reasons adopt a uniform society habit, why should the Japanese be imitators when doing the very same thing? Let the world not deceive itself,—there is something more serious than copying in the development of the Japanese nationality. Borrowers they have undoubtedly been, and that on a grand scale. Religion, philosophy, language, literature, art, and artistic manufacture they took bodily from China, apparently through Korea. But who shall say they have not improved upon their teachers? That is a kind of borrowing which may yet carry Japan very far. We should not forget that even a Shakespeare may be an incorrigible borrower.

From the first appearance of Commodore Perry's "black ships" in 1853 one idea took complete possession of the Japanese ruling classes, and inspired all their manifestoes. How far the common people were in sympathy with their rulers there was no evidence available to show. The idea was that their nation was weak, and in its seclusion had been outstripped by the nations of the West, and that they must make every exertion to arm themselves in order to be able to cope with and to expel the barbarians. All their temporising with the enemy had this end in view, and they followed it up with such zeal, intelligence, and national harmony, as to excite both wonder and admiration. In the building up of their nation, and giving it a status among the military and industrial Powers, the Japanese freely and extensively employed foreigners in all capacities, dispensing with their services when done with as naturally as a builder dispenses with his temporary scaffolding. They used foreigners from the outset, but have never allowed foreigners to use them. They have thus remained the masters in their own house, and therein has lain their strength, present and prospective. Teaching they have recompensed with coin; and though confidences have been received with courtesy, their own plans and purposes have been veiled from the most honoured of their tutors. Their attitude has remained what it was in the days of the Dutch monopoly, when instruction in Western lore, including naval and military science, was freely imparted to them, while the uses to which it was applied were studiously hidden from the teachers. Though the Dutch, for example, taught the Japanese mathematics and triangulation so successfully that the pupils were able to make accurate surveys and construct maps of the country and charts of its sea-coasts, yet the Dutch were never permitted to see the finished result.

In looking back on the work of those foreign Governments and their agents who by their interference shook this new nation into life, it is obvious that they did not, any of them, know what they were doing. There was a divinity shaping their ends which they, with their conventional concessions to the modern spirit, had no idea of. If we are to pass judgment at all on those men, it must not be by the ulterior consequences which they did not and could not foresee, but on the merits of the problem which immediately presented itself to them. The demand for free intercourse with Japan being shared by all the nations of Christendom was bound to be satisfied one day: it was but a question of a favourable opportunity. Commodore Perry and the United States Government made their opportunity. Townsend Harris had his opportunity made for him, and with great adroitness, and not too much scruple, he took advantage of it to force the half-open door. Lord Elgin, in his turn, did a smart thing in sandwiching in a full treaty with Japan between his earlier and later negotiations with China. Each in his degree contributed to the general result without any apparent sense of responsibility for unsettling an ancient polity of which they were ignorant, and to which they were blind. Lord Elgin was indeed visited by the qualms of conscience which were as natural to him as they were honourable, but the particular consequences of which he had a passing dread were not those which followed. In any case, his act was momentary: its results remained to be dealt with by those who came after. The heat and burden of the day fell upon those who had to "stub the Thurnaby waste" which the cavaliers had gaily cantered round,—to reduce theories and compliments to everyday practice. Here was not only a labour but a responsibility, not of the attenuated abstract order, but one which was apt to knock violently at their door every morning and every night. For whatever might be the remote effects, the immediate issues were always urgent, and what a conscientious man had to do was to shape a daily course among unknown rocks and whirlpools such as would eventually lead to a successful ocean voyage. It is surely a test of good pilotage in such emergencies that no step need be retraced; that to whatever extent temporary exigencies may hasten or retard, they should never deflect the general movement from its true direction; that the years achievement should be homogeneous with the day's doings. It is a test which would eliminate the time-server from political life, but it was in all important particulars well responded to in the short career of Sir Rutherford Alcock in Japan.

It would be idle to conjecture the probable course of events had a different spirit prevailed among the first diplomatic representatives in Japan. Had they been a weak and yielding body, or had they been connected with the bureaux of their respective Governments by electric wire; still more, had each step taken by them formed a bone of contention between opposing factions in their legislatures, all alike ignorant of the situation, the proceedings of the Ministers would not only have been deprived of all initiative, but would have been liable to paralysis at every critical moment. Under such conditions foreign policy in Japan would have been like driftwood in a whirlpool; the forces of reaction must have gained courage; the position of foreigners would have been rendered untenable; and what might have happened in the country itself it would, as we have said, be quite idle to imagine. In those days no Power would have interfered to maintain order or to defend treaties had England held aloof. There is no need to carry hypothesis further than this in order to appreciate the good fortune not only of Great Britain herself, but of Japan and the world, in having as pioneer representative a man so alert, so capable, so clear, and with such unshakable nerve as Sir Rutherford Alcock; for it is the man on the spot in distant countries who shapes the policy of his Government, if it is to have a policy at all, and this historic service the first Minister sent to Japan did effectually render to his country. Amid difficulties unprecedented, emergencies incessant, and an elemental strife ever raging, the terms of which were inscrutable, two immutable principles guided the Minister to a clear issue. The first was duty, at all costs and hazards; the second, the integrity of the treaties. Whatever might be argued about the policy or the ethics of making them, once made, retreat from their engagements was impossible and compromise futile. Matters had to be pushed to an issue. The whole term of Sir Rutherford Alcock's service in Japan was filled up with a warfare against the temptation to temporise in the hope that things would be better,—a temptation to which, as we have seen, her Majesty's Government for a time succumbed. In perplexing situations the best solvent is simplicity, and the Minister found his safety in directness of aim and inflexibility of purpose. Standing on that rock, the mystifications with which he was surrounded lost their power to disturb him. "Fortunately," he wrote to Earl Russell, "whether the Tycoon was playing a comedy or not, the course plainly indicated is the same, the assertion of a fixed determination not to be driven out, and to maintain the rights secured under treaties, by force, if all other means fail."

To the man who perceived and successfully carried out this simple rule of action his countrymen owe no common debt.

As it is proverbially the busiest people who have the most leisure, the British Minister found time in the midst of his harassing labours to employ his æsthetic gifts for the benefit of the public. It fell to his lot, as the reader may remember, while consul in Shanghai, to contribute samples of the art, industry, and natural products of China to the Great Exhibition of 1851, neither the native Government nor the foreign mercantile community being sufficiently interested to assist in the work. A similar service was asked of him in Japan for the Exhibition of 1862, and it was performed under similar conditions, neither the native Government nor the foreign residents taking any part in it. The task had a special fascination for Sir Rutherford, for Japanese art was a new and rich field for the student as for the dilettante. The Japanese had originally borrowed their whole art, with their literature and religion, from China, but they had improved or at least transformed it so much as to make it their own, though it is contended that in ceramics they had never succeeded in overtaking the Chinese. For five hundred years they had worked on the Chinese idea; but at last in the eleventh century A.D. native schools sprang up, and thenceforth Japanese artists followed their own inspiration, which was that of nature, producing, in the fulness of time, the exquisite results with which the world is now so familiar. The introduction of this Japanese work to the connoisseurs of Europe through the London Exhibition of 1862 was effected through the personal exertions of Sir Rutherford Alcock, who added immensely to the obligations under which he laid his countrymen by the publication in 1878 of a short but comprehensive work on 'Art and Art Industries of Japan.' Like the collecting of objects for the Exhibition, the writing of this book was evidently a labour of love. It reviews with a sympathy which almost rises to enthusiasm not only the finished product, but the stages of the evolution of Japanese art, having its origin in a loving fellowship with nature and in a special affinity with what may be called its humorous side. The genius of Japan has taken a different form from that of the West, where "the great works of the sculptor and the painter are seen by but few," whereas the art work of Japan, "which is always in sight, tends to cultivate the taste of the million by bringing constantly before their eyes objects of taste, not less effective because they are unconsciously felt and enjoyed." It is art pressed into the service of the life of the people "which can give a priceless value to the commonest and least costly material by the mere impress of genius and taste, ... which is the most precious, tested by any true estimate of value and utility." The volume is well worth perusal by those who are interested in art, not only for its philosophical yet simple analysis of the subject generally, but for the instructive way in which universal principles are adapted to the popularised art of Japan. To read this book, one would imagine the writer had devoted the whole of the three years and a half he spent in Japan to the cultivation of the industrial fine arts.

The Japanese language, too, attracted the interest of the busy Minister, who during his stay in Yedo brought out a grammar and phrase-book in Japanese and English. They have, as a matter of course, been superseded by the more recondite studies of later students; but as a first step towards familiarising the language to visitors and strangers these introductory works cannot be denied their meed of merit.

VIII. THE DIPLOMATIC BODY—TSUSHIMA.

Four Western Powers represented in Tokio—Russia only in Hakodate by consul—And naval officers—Cordial Anglo-French relations—Temptations to intrigue—Secret communications to Japanese—Representatives of the Powers arousing suspicions of each other's designs—Letters cited—The Tsushima incident—Admiral Sir James Hope obtains its evacuation by Russians.

During the first few years there were four representatives of the Western Powers resident in or near the Tycoon's capital: they were the Ministers of Great Britain, the United States, France, and Holland. Russia had accredited no Minister, but intrusted her interests to the very capable hands of M. Goskavitch, consul at Hakodate, the treaty port in the northern island of the Japanese group. What was no doubt deemed of at least equal importance, she maintained a powerful squadron on the western coast of Japan, whose actual strength was magnified to the view by their incessant activity, which had the character of a continuous demonstration on the coast both of China and Japan; and the principle of direct action by naval officers without the medium of diplomacy, at the ports of Nagasaki and Hakodate, was so different from that of any other Power, that the Daimios declared to the Tycoon that any of the foreigners could be safely insulted except the Russians. Their manœuvres in force round Hongkong, meaningless to the ordinary professional or political eye, played probably a corroborative part in the impressions they were making on the rulers of the neighbouring countries. Prussia had not yet come effectually on the scene when the decisive operations against the two great Daimios, which really determined the future course of events, were undertaken.

The relations of the resident foreign Ministers among themselves were marked by substantial harmony, in some instances rising to great cordiality. The foreign diplomatic body thus presented a united front to the forces, open or covert, that were opposed to them. Such differences of opinion as arose in the course of business either were not of a nature, or were not allowed, to interfere with the pursuit of the national interests of each, which were inextricably bound up in the common interests of all. United, the influence of the Powers was practically irresistible; divided, they would have fallen an easy prey to the devices of what, for want of another term, must be spoken of as the common enemy, Japan. It is not pleasant to think of Japan in this way, since she was on her defence in a position forced upon her; yet overruling circumstances had, in fact, placed the parties in temporary antagonism—the world against Japan.

The key to the success of European diplomacy of the earlier period was without doubt the Anglo-French alliance, which had culminated in the coercion of imperial China, and was spending its ebbing strength in suppressing the great Taiping insurrection against that empire. Being possessed of mobile forces within call, the two Powers were always in a position to act when circumstances called for action, and they had become accustomed to co-operation. Hence the potency of their united counsels.

The Minister of France as well as the admiral on the station had the instructions of the Imperial Government to support England in her Far Eastern policy,—"for," said the calculating Emperor Napoleon III., "though our interests in that part of the world are trivial, we may find our account in the friendship of England in quarters where our interests are vital." That the Ministers of the two countries, therefore, should be on terms of official intimacy and mutual confidence was only natural, and it was a tower of strength to them both. But we gather from the despatches that personal respect and attachment went hand in hand with the official liaison; and whether it was Sir Rutherford Alcock or Colonel Neale on the one side, or M. Duchesne de Bellecourt or Leon Roche on the other, their expressions towards their colleagues were always of the warmest. So completely confidential were their relations, that when something was insinuated by third parties which, if credited, would have necessitated explanations between the two, it was simply dismissed as unworthy of consideration. There were not wanting those who would have regarded with equanimity a little more coldness between the Allied colleagues.

For, notwithstanding their good fraternal relations, it cannot be said that the foreign officials in Japan were uniformly successful in resisting the besetting sin of diplomacy, the common temptation to intrigue. In certain cases it was resorted to as the natural means of advancing the solid interests of a particular country; in other cases, where no national interest could be served by it, it would appear that intrigue was its own allurement, followed for the mere pleasure of the game. The political situation in Japan was sufficiently complicated to afford occasion for both these motives of action. The unstable Government of the country, oppressed by conflicting obligations and consciously struggling for existence, offered an ideal theatre for volunteer experimentation by those on whom no ulterior responsibility rested.

Be that as it may, however, secret communications did pass between certain foreign officials and the Japanese Government of a kind which betrayed the design of undermining the interests of other Powers and frustrating their policy, presumably for the benefit of those whose zeal in the cause of international honour impelled them to adopt the rôle of international informers. It need hardly be said that Great Britain was a principal object of these occult practices; neither need it be denied that she suffered from their effects in the estimation of the Japanese Government, which was naturally credulous of any disparagement of the Powers it dreaded so much. In the incandescent condition of the intercourse of those earlier years, had any of the foreign agents spoken well of his neighbours he would have obtained no hearing for his praise; but given vilification for its motive, the representation would find its way straight to the Japanese heart, since nothing could be too vile to be believed of the intentions of any of the foreign nations. The spy system was congenial to the Japanese, woven into their whole administration; while as regards foreigners, they had had ample experience centuries before of the lengths Christian nations would go in traducing each other for the sake of gaining a little favour of the rulers of Japan. It was entirely in keeping with their medieval experiences that these dastardly barbarians should now be ready to stab each other in the back. Whatever reception, therefore, on other grounds, might be accorded to gratuitous information conveyed through prejudiced channels, no surprise was occasioned by it, and as little doubt of its truth, so long as its burden was evil. This much has to be borne in mind as a tribute to the intelligence of the writers of letters such as the following, addressed to the Gorogiu, or Bureau of Foreign Affairs, and conveyed to them with ostentatious secrecy. In 1860 one Government agent wrote—

Last year towards the middle of the second month the English created great difficulties in China in consequence of the war they waged by sea and land. They had violated the treaties in a shameful manner, and as this excited the indignation of the Chinese they attacked the English on the river, and captured three men-of-war. Feeling herself humbled by this defeat, England swore revenge. She uttered the most unjust menaces against China, and at the very moment the Chinese commenced their conferences upon this subject four or five months ago the English suddenly ordered forty-seven men-of-war from London. These vessels are at present at Chusan, and await the signal for action. Within two or three months the men-of-war will leave for the north. The merchant vessel Dayspring brought us all this news on the 12th instant.

On speaking about this important news to Mr —, the British Consul residing here, he gave me the following information in a strictly private manner.

"At last," said Mr —, "the war with China is decided upon. We have for a long time been searching for a good harbour where we shall be able to put the sick and wounded. We have chosen Tsushima, where we intend to send the sick and wounded, and as soon as the war has commenced we have resolved to take possession of that island."

Mr — communicated this to me as a great secret, and I now give you this information in a strictly private manner.

You will perceive that this is a question of the utmost importance, and you must take it into serious consideration without delay, and with the utmost attention.

Four years ago the English, who had for a long time coveted an excellent little island called Perim, took possession of it, informing the Turkish Government that they only wished to place their invalids on that island, and this false pretext was matter for serious discussion. The Turks were perfectly aware of the deceitful conduct of the English. They did not ignore that fourteen or fifteen years before, while fighting with the Chinese, the English had stolen Hongkong under the same pretences.... But while they were deliberating the English sent their invalids to Perim, and immediately built forts and stole this island in the most disgraceful manner.

As the English are wonderful impostors, it is your duty not only to take care of Tsushima, but also of the smallest island in your empire: this must be done with the utmost watchfulness.

I inform you of this danger in the most private and secret manner.

And a year or two later, when the intercourse between the British Minister and the Tycoon was charged with contentious, almost with explosive, matter, missives were passed in from philanthropic onlookers of a tenor which excited no surprise, but a good deal of genuine exultation, in the minds of the Japanese Ministers. It was well known some time before that it had been sought to prevent a settlement of outstanding difficulties between the two countries by the assurance volunteered to the Tycoon's Government that Great Britain was quite unable to make war on Japan, and the following letter is only one of a series of such international amenities which shunned the light of day:—

Japan was opened by us, ... and after we had settled down here the other Powers made their appearance. The intentions of ... in opening this country to foreign intercourse was to increase the welfare and prosperity of its inhabitants. While we were doing our utmost for this nation some English men-of-war suddenly appeared here to demand indemnities for a murder which, although unjustifiable, was not a casus belli. As long as the ambitious, warlike, and quarrelsome Englishmen are here, the object we have in view cannot be obtained. They must, therefore, be driven out of this country. You cannot consent to their demands. Do not fear the English; there are other nations in Japan, and if you require assistance you may rest assured we shall give you moral and material support.

But in vain was the snare set by these fowlers in the sight of the bird. The notion of setting a thief to catch a thief was not uncongenial to Japanese habits of thought, but a generous offer of armed assistance against a foreign Power savoured too much of the wooden horse even for such inexperienced internationalists as the New Japan. Having expressed their appreciation—had it been the Chinese Government it would have taken the form of praise for their loyal obedience—the Government intimated that they would exhaust their own resources before putting these friendly foreign Powers to the trouble of intervening on their behalf. The Japanese have always been wary about accepting help unasked for. The United States frigate Niagara, which brought back the envoys in 1860, brought also a staff of artillery officers whose services were tendered to the Tycoon, but declined. And it was said the American officers were rather astonished by the proofs afforded them in Yedo of the efficiency of armament and proficiency of the gunners which Japan was already able to show.

One of the vigilant observers of political portents about that time became convinced that the French had designs upon Tsushima, a belief which was no doubt in some way also communicated to the Japanese Government; but by that time—1863—it was too late for any Power to flirt with that "excellent little island," for since the first warning given the Japanese in 1860, above cited, the island had been made the subject of definitive arrangements. The incident itself, though of brief duration and leaving no visible trail behind it, nevertheless deserves to be remembered as a landmark of history.

When Count Mouravieff was in Yedo in 1859, he took the trouble to warn the Tycoon's Government that the English harboured aggressive designs against the island of Tsushima, which is a long double or "twin" island, possessing wonderful harbours, and situated midway between the main island of Japan and the southern coast of Korea. On March 13, 1861, the Russians landed from the corvette Possadnik in Tsushima, and saying their ship wanted repairs, began to build houses on shore. Captain Birileff had forced the Prince of Tsushima to receive him at his capital, which created an intense feeling of indignation, especially in the ranks of the nobles, who each saw himself exposed to similar intrusions. The Daimio repeatedly requested the Russians to leave, but was always told the ship required further repairs. In consequence of reports from his own officers and the Japanese Government, Vice-Admiral Sir James Hope looked in at Tsushima himself in the month of August, and observing what was going on there, he addressed a letter to Captain Birileff, of which the substance was as follows: The prolonged stay of his Imperial Majesty's corvette Possadnik, the erection of buildings, &c., having created alarm in Yedo, the admiral had the intention to communicate on the subject as early as possible with Commodore Likatchoff. Would Captain Birileff meantime facilitate this correspondence by replying to the questions—(1) Should the Japanese Government appeal to the treaty, which conveys no right either to create establishments ashore, to survey the Japanese coast without Government sanction, or even to enter a non-treaty port except in case of necessity, would Captain Birileff's orders admit of his leaving Tsushima immediately on the request of the Japanese authorities? (2) Was it Captain Birileff's intention to leave Tsushima in October as previously stated to Commander Ward, leaving the buildings to whomsoever wanted them?... (3) Had the captain orders to create a permanent establishment there?

The reply of Captain Birileff was to the effect that the officers of his Imperial Majesty were accountable only to their own chiefs; ... that he was quite astonished to hear of the alarms in Yedo, seeing that only two months before the Prince of Bungo had been sent to Tsushima expressly from Yedo to grant permission to the corvette to remain there; that the same prince gave him the opportunity of visiting the Prince of Tsushima, who was instructed to supply workmen and all that might be necessary for the construction of the buildings in question; that if the Japanese Government were annoyed by the surveying operations, they should address their complaint to the Russian diplomatic agent; that he had no orders for the occupation of the island, and the nature of the buildings which the admiral had done him the honour to visit would not show any such intention; and finally, that when he spoke of leaving in October it had referred only to himself personally. So far Captain Birileff.

It was no "Prince of Bungo," but a Governor of Foreign Affairs named Bungo, who had been despatched in haste from the capital to endeavour by any means to induce the Russians to leave Tsushima, and was, for his want of success, disgraced.

Sir James Hope forthwith proceeded in search of Commodore Likatchoff to Olga Bay, whence he addressed to him a letter dated September 5, pointing out the irregularity of the proceedings at Tsushima, the bad effect they were having on the relations of foreigners generally in Yedo, and that he could not recognise any establishment on Japanese territory not sanctioned by treaty—which resolutions he would make known to the authorities concerned.

To this the Russian commodore courteously replied from Hakodate, September 23, excusing himself from entering on any international questions, and pointing out that in their hydrographical labours the Russians were only following the excellent example set them by the British surveying officers whom they met on their respective missions, and that no complaint had ever been made by the Japanese Government. As for the "absurd rumours" alluded to, the Possadnik had already received orders for another destination, before receipt of the admiral's letters, and nothing consequently need be said to calm the doubts and alarms, "si même elles auraient véritablement raison d'exister."

Admiral Hope acknowledged this letter, "with much satisfaction," from Chefoo, October 22, and remarked that, so far as the surveying operations of the ships in his squadron were concerned, they were carried out with the full consent of the Japanese Government, at whose special request Japanese officers and interpreters were accommodated on board during the whole of the cruise. He added that it was not so much the surveying operations of the Possadnik as the preparation for a permanent settlement on shore that disquieted the Japanese Government; and, moreover, that the Japanese Ministers had distinctly stated that the matter had been the subject of remonstrance to the commodore, through M. Goskavitch, the consul at Hakodate, and to Captain Birileff by an officer specially deputed for the purpose (Bungo).

The question extended itself to St Petersburg, where Prince Gortchakoff had remarked to Lord Napier, then British ambassador, on the tone of Admiral Hope's letter to Commodore Likatchoff, which, he said, but for the conciliatory disposition of the latter, might have led to serious misunderstanding. Lord Napier, in reply, observed that "Admiral Hope was a man of a frank, downright, energetic character, who used the language natural to him without any intention of giving offence."

As the Russians had abandoned the island, Prince Gortchakoff called on Lord Napier to declare that the English would never take possession of Tsushima, whereupon the ambassador reminded his Excellency that the English had "offered to sign a treaty binding ourselves and the other Powers having engagements with Japan to make no acquisitions in those seas." "I think," concludes the ambassador in his letter to the Foreign Office, "that Admiral Hope will do well to assure himself that the buildings have really been evacuated." This precaution had already been taken, and the admiral reported on November 10 that the Russians had evacuated on September 29.

There the incident ended, but not its historical significance.

IX. TRADE AND TRADERS.

Commerce increases in spite of adverse political situations—And of efforts of Japanese government to repress it—The personnel of the mercantile community—British predominance—Relations of merchants to Ministers—Interests and duties not always identical—Sumptuary laws—Discharges of firearms forbidden—Seizure of Mr Moss—Wounding of a Japanese policeman—Trial and sentence of Mr Moss—His liberation in Hongkong—Sues the Minister and obtains damages—Legal supremacy at Hongkong—Defects of the consular jurisdiction—The recreation of shooting.

These fierce struggles, the sudden arousing to intensity of dormant passions, the dislocation of the whole structure of Japanese polity, represented to the foreign nations merely the risks and sacrifices incidental to the expansion of their commerce. In order to compel the Government to permit the people to exchange the products of their soil for the merchandise of the strangers within their gates, the labour, anxiety, and expense which we have only faintly indicated were voluntarily incurred by the Western treaty Powers, and by them in turn forced on the reluctant rulers of Japan. An a priori judgment of the probable effect of the sanguinary conditions into which official intercourse had been thrown would probably have concluded that peaceful commerce could not under such circumstances exist. The restrictions resulting from an ill-regulated currency, and from the direct interference of the Government, might have been deemed sufficient of themselves to check the development of trade. When to these inimical influences were superadded the further facts that the foreign traders went in peril of their lives, that the communities of Nagasaki and Yokohama were at different times in such danger that provisional arrangements were made for conveying them, bag and baggage, on board ship, a condition of things less favourable to international traffic could scarcely be conceived. Yet these difficulties, and a score of others which could be enumerated, served only to bring into clear recognition the inherent vitality of commerce, which, like running water, finds its way through or round almost any obstacle. There were, on the other hand, circumstances favourable to trade. In Japan, as has been already hinted, the traders of the country had neither part nor lot in the strife that raged above and around them, and for the most part they could pursue their peaceful avocations without fear or hindrance. So the quality of commerce was not strained; but, shedding its benefits on buyer and seller alike, it grew from small beginnings till it attained to a volume of world-wide importance, accumulating momentum as it progressed.

The total amount of foreign trade was a little over one million sterling per annum for the first three years of the open ports. In the fourth year, 1863, the development of Japanese produce, especially the more precious commodities, silk and the eggs of the silkworm, began to tell on the gross values, and the exports for that year amounted to two and a half millions sterling, the imports of foreign goods being £811,000. The year 1864, notwithstanding its crowded events of anti-commercial character, witnessed a notable advance in the value of foreign trade, which in that year doubled itself. The same thing occurred again in 1865, when the figures reached a total of eight millions sterling, being double the returns for 1864.

Thus the foreign trade of Japan had fairly established itself as "a going concern," advancing in war and peace, but with great fluctuations and many vicissitudes to those engaged in it. From the purely commercial standpoint the result justified the anticipations of the Powers who opened Japan to the world. The event proved that when the materials of trade exist there trade is sure to follow on the removal of obstructions. And the materials of trade are not wanting wherever there is a population that wears clothes and builds houses.[11]

It is obvious to remark that had it been in the power of the Japanese Government to place an effective interdict on foreign commerce at its sources within their own jurisdiction, and beyond the reach of treaty obligations, it would have been the surest means of causing the withdrawal of foreigners from the country. That the Government had the will to do so was shown by their repeated partial attempts at preventing produce from reaching the open ports, and even inducing a temporary exodus therefrom of the native population. Why their measures of repression were not more thorough may be conjectured to have been connected with the circumstance that the advantages of the foreign trade soon began to be felt in quarters with which it was not convenient for the Tycoon to inter-meddle.