Part 11

For fifteen years prior to its extinction the foreign policy of the Tokugawa Shogunate had been that which was found acceptable to the Emperor Mutsuhito on his accession, thus the necessity for the “Tycoon’s” intervention to secure imperial recognition for the treaties was no longer apparent, and it was inevitable that the position he held should eventually become untenable, apart from all other considerations of political exigency. The predominance of the Bakufu as a military despotism attained its zenith, to judge by the available history of the period, in the days of Iyemitsu, and in proportion as the individual strength and influence of the numerous feudal barons who owed it allegiance were found to increase, the real power of the Tokugawa house steadily diminished. While it lasted, however, the Bakufu did much to render Japan a prosperous country, studiously fostering the arts of civilisation in general, and diligently seeking to promote secular education. It established academies as far back as 1857 for the study of foreign languages and science, supplemented by a school of medicine in 1858.

III

FUJITA TOKO

Outside the Japanese Empire the name of Fujita Toko is but little known, yet he undoubtedly exercised an influence which tended greatly towards the making of Modern Japan, if only by reason of his pronounced hostility to the Regency of the Bakufu and his steadfast, unwearying inculcation of the doctrines of loyalty to the real sovereign and constant preparation for national defence. That he was in advance of his age is clear, for he lived in an era when Japan was secluded from the outer world, and was mainly dependent on such information regarding it as filtered through from Holland by way of the Dutch settlement at Nagasaki. Fujita was a renowned Chinese scholar and teacher of the classics, born in the third year of the Bunkwa period (1806), at Mito, in eastern Hondo, the seat of one branch of the Tokugawa family which for 250 years virtually ruled the country from Yedo. Mito is distant from the capital some fifty-five miles by railway, and is now the chief town of the Ibaraki prefecture, with a population of about 35,000, but in the time of Fujita it was accessible only by road through Tsuchiura, a town at the extremity of the large inlet or lagoon named Kasumi-ga-ura which penetrates from the Pacific a long way inland just to the north of Cape Inuboye. Mito itself is about twelve miles from the coast and is a flourishing agricultural centre, famed for its output of barley, beans, millet, and buckwheat. Tobacco is also extensively cultivated in this region, which is at the present day in the enjoyment of exceptional facilities of communication, for sea-going steamers call at Choshi, an anchorage at the mouth of the river Toné, close to Cape Inuboye, and smaller craft ply between Choshi and the towns situated along the Toné or on the shores of Kasumi-ga-ura, in addition to the branch railway from Oyama on the main line to the north of Japan and a separate line in connection with the capital through Tsuchiura.

Fujita Toko was not merely a celebrated professor of Chinese literature in an age when classical learning was highly prized, but he was the friend and counsellor of the famous Rekko, senior prince of Mito, whose seventh son, born in 1837, was destined to play so conspicuous a part in the affairs of the nation, and who happily still occupies a leading position as Prince Tokugawa Keiki, better known in pre-Restoration days as the Shogun Hitotsubashi, and whose share in the revival of imperial rule is elsewhere referred to in these pages. The head of the Mito house, Prince Tokugawa Nariaki, strenuously opposed the Bakufu form of government and its policy towards foreign powers, but there is no direct evidence that he was personally antagonistic to the people of the Occident. Dark deeds were attributed to his followers, but the perpetrators were at all events in theory “ro-nins” or outlaws, who had voluntarily severed their connection with the clan beforehand, and for whose crimes the house of Mito was not to be held responsible. This was particularly the case in regard to the assassination of the Regent or Tairo, Ii Kamon-no-Kami, in 1860, at the Sakurada Gate in Yedo. Though the murderers had once, it turned out, been followers of the “old prince of Mito”—as he was termed—they had cut themselves adrift from the clan, and were acting independently of it when they perpetrated the crime that so profoundly stirred the community.

Fujita had long before this taken up his abode in Yedo, and dwelt in that part of the capital known as Koishikawa, down to the date of the terrible earthquake of 1855, in which he, in common with many thousands of his fellow-citizens, was engulfed. He spent practically the whole of his life, however, in Mito, and thither came in 1842 the future Commander-in-chief of the Imperial Forces in the War of the Restoration, and at a later period Minister for War in the Government of Revived Imperial Rule, Saigo Takamori. Saigo became Fujita’s pupil, and there is no doubt that the professor instilled into Saigo’s mind a hostility to the Shogunate as deep and enduring as his own, to bear fruit in after years when the possibility as well as the desirability of effecting a complete revolution in the administration came to be a matter no longer of secret consultation but of free and open discussion. If in the affectionate remembrance of his countrymen Saigo Takamori was the “sword and spear” of the Revolution of 1868, as Kido was its “brain” (employing a phrase once much in vogue), the thoughts of people in Japan must often turn to the long since dead Mito scholar who implanted in his pupil the conviction of the pressing need that there was for a return to the old order of things, and the personal rule of the real emperor.

There is a little story still current in Japan relative to the time of Saigo’s departure from Mito, after a stay of some years’ duration there under Fujita’s tuition. The master had bidden a number of his friends to a supper in Saigo’s honour, and in accord with ancient custom Fujita offered his _sakazuki_ (wine-cup) to his pupil in token of friendship, but Saigo, to Fujita’s surprise, at first begged to be excused. When rallied on his excessive caution Saigo explained that he went in fear lest under the influence of wine he might be guilty of acting imprudently, but Fujita would not accept the plea. “A man who aims at distinction as a samurai must never refuse his master’s invitation to take wine with him,” declared Fujita,—meaning, apparently, that a soldier must place himself unreservedly in the hands of his chief,—and Saigo thereupon took the risk, as he deemed it, on that occasion, and drank several cupfuls of _Sake_. Fujita was pleased with his pupil’s spirit, and often said of him afterwards that whatever Saigo might undertake he would assuredly succeed in, as he could accommodate himself to circumstances.

Fujita had many other students of classical literature staying with him at Mito at various times, it being a period when not only was there the highest appreciation of Chinese literary composition, but things Chinese in general had a vogue in Japan which approximated to that which in later years was developed in respect of things European. There was, moreover, a growing disposition among the samurai to apply themselves to the study of such arts and sciences as were revealed to them through translations of foreign works introduced by the Dutch at Nagasaki. To thinking men of the type of those who went to Fujita for instruction the Dutch books formed the only media whereby the desired information concerning the Western world could be obtained, and considering the difficulties under which those who sought knowledge in those days must have laboured the perseverance shown in its pursuit reflects vast credit on professors and pupils alike. Long prior to Commodore Perry’s first visit in 1853 the Japanese people were cognisant to some extent of the existence of railways, and steam engines,—even of the electric telegraph, it is said, which was at that time quite new to Europe and America,—and blast furnaces, mills, and workshops of different kinds had been set up on plans obtained from Nagasaki, with no inconsiderable share of success. Other industrial inventions had been introduced, which, if they did not precisely originate in the Occident, had at least been brought to some degree of perfection there, such as the art of printing from movable types, which is said to have belonged in the first place to Korea, and so with human effort in other directions it was at last discovered that all unknown to the Western world the leaven had been working in the various strata of society in Japan with results as astounding to the onlooker as they were beneficial in their effects on the nation. The disposition towards independence of political thought that arose from the perusal of foreign writings which found their way to the country in its period of seclusion was productive, when once the upheaval commenced, of a mental activity that manifested itself in a thousand ways in the last half-century, and there is little likelihood, despite her eagerness for progress, that Japan will ever forget those who aided in the past to bring about her emancipation from a feudal system which sapped her energies and blighted her prospects of advancement. Fujita Toko lives in the hearts of his countrymen.

IV

SAKUMA SHURI (OTHERWISE SHOZAN)

In the eighth year of the Bun-kwa era, corresponding to A.D. 1811, during the reign of the Emperor Kokaku, was born in the little town of Matsu-shiro (Pine citadel) in Shinano province, a man who was destined to leave his mark on the annals of his country for all time. Little has ever been heard of him, so far, outside his own land, but in Japan he is regarded as one of the forerunners of a new regime,—a patriot to whom the Japanese people of the present day are indebted in no small degree for the privileges which they now enjoy. His family name was Sakuma, and his common or as we might say, his baptismal name was Shuri, but to the student of history he is best known, perhaps, by his _nom de plume_ of Shozan. His poetical works fill many volumes, and I venture to quote one of the numerous “thirty-one syllabled” poems which he penned, as an example of his endeavours to stimulate his fellow-countrymen to throw off the yoke of feudalism:—

Kokoro-mi ni izaya sakeban Yama-biko no Kotaye tataseba koye wa oshimaji.

(When once to our loud shouts Echo vouchsafes an answer The vocal effort made to gain her favour counts for naught.)

It is recorded of him that even as a child he evinced an unusual gravity of demeanour, so much so that his behaviour was that of an adult rather than a boy of seven, and the neighbours were apt to shake their heads in doubt as to what manner of man he would grow up to be. He cared nothing for the ordinary sports of Japanese children of his years, who, as we have often been assured, dwell in a perfect paradise as far as their play is concerned, but was at all times distinguished by a taciturnity wholly unbefitting one so young. His cleverness was the subject of general remark, and he was a source of intense pride and satisfaction to his parents. In Japan, as in the West, children who betray extraordinary ability are objects of the most marked admiration.

As far as can be ascertained, Shuri continued to reside in his native town until he was twenty-nine years old, when he set out for Yedo, as the capital of the Shogun,—now Tokio—was then called, to seek his fortune. There he studied diligently, under such celebrated professors as Hayashi Jussai and Sato Issai, the then much-prized Chinese literature, and enjoyed the close friendship of those profound scholars Yanagawa Seigan, Watanabe Kazan, and Tsuboi Shindo. All these men won for themselves enduring fame as exponents of the writings of the Chinese sages, and under their guidance Sakuma became deeply versed in the teachings of Mencius and Confucius, and many of the lesser lights of Chinese philosophy. Japan’s rigid seclusion from the outer world, which had at that time already lasted over two centuries, had had the result, for one thing, of elevating Chinese learning to a position, in the eyes of the average Japanese, scarcely less exalted than that of Greek or Latin in England in the Middle Ages, although in Japan some knowledge of Chinese was found among all classes. But Sakuma’s studies were by no means confined to Chinese literature. He set himself to glean all that he could from the works of the Hollanders, then almost the only Occidental writings available to the Japanese in their search for information, and having acquired a fair knowledge of the Dutch language, he embarked resolutely on an investigation of the arts and sciences of the West, including the manufacture of firearms, the construction of vessels of war, of fortifications, and the casting of heavy guns. The immediate effect of his researches was to imbue his mind with a conviction of the paramount necessity of strengthening the national defences, and providing against the contingency of an attack by some hostile Western power. His studies in musketry led him to invent a new weapon, in the shape of a musket capable of far greater rapidity of fire than that which at the time was in use, the pattern of which had been brought from Europe. Sakuma was groping in the dark, by comparison with those of his fellow-countrymen who, at a later date, followed in his footsteps along the path which led to substantial reforms, but he was on the right track, as his unerring judgment assured him, though it was not his fate to live until the dawn of the Meiji era, still less to be able to form a true conception of the success that would attend his country’s efforts and the phenomenal progress that would be achieved under the beneficent auspices of the Emperor Mutsuhito’s reign. In 1842, which was the thirteenth year of the Tempo period, while the Emperor Ninko was on the throne, the feudal chieftain of Shinano, Sakuma’s native province, was given high office under the Tokugawa Government—that is to say, under the administration at Yedo of the Shogun, or as he was better known to Europeans, the “Tycoon.” The Shinano _dai-mio_, as the feudal chiefs in those days were styled, raised Sakuma to the rank of private adviser to the State on matters concerning coast defence. In the execution of his duties in this capacity Sakuma prepared a memorandum on the nature of the measures to be adopted for adequate protection, and the document is not without historical value, when considered in the light of the more recent events of Japanese history. The report, it will be remembered was made in the year 1842. Roughly speaking, Sakuma’s ideas of national defence were,—

(_a_) To fortify all points of strategical importance on the coast territories.

(_b_) To prohibit the export of copper to Holland, and to undertake the manufacture of a large number of cannon. (The impression conveyed is that many thousands of such guns were to be cast, and that the material was to be bronze.)

(_c_) To build powerful men-of-war, on the Western model.

(_d_) To promote the trade with foreign countries, by every means at command, external commerce being essential to the national development, and at the same time to put a check on the self-seeking ambitions of the Dutch merchants at Nagasaki, and induce them to abandon their evil ways.

(_e_) To strengthen the navy. (Considering that Japan was not supposed to have had a navy until quite recent years, this provision would at first sight appear to be somewhat superfluous, but the reference is, of course, to the very few sailing vessels fit to carry guns which had been built in the days of the Tokugawa regime, on lines that had been handed down to the native shipbuilders from the time of Will Adams, the sailor and shipwright of London, who, after his vessel’s wreck on the Japanese coast, at the dawn of the seventeenth century, entered the employ of the then Shogun, and for the remainder of his life devoted himself to the service of his adopted country.)

(_f_) To establish schools and in every way spread a knowledge of the benefits of a liberal education.

(_g_) To familiarise people with the principles of sound government, by the introduction of beneficent regulations, and to lead them to appreciate its advantages by the establishment of organised rule on enlightened methods.

(_h_) To employ only the more intelligent persons in offices of higher rank.

It will readily be comprehended that these recommendations, had they been adopted, would at the outset have involved such sweeping reforms in the methods of administration as would have procured for Sakuma in any case a whole host of enemies, for there were vested interests to be considered in those times as in every age, and it is not at all surprising to learn that his proposals were not received with any degree of favour: admirable as they were in conception, they struck at the very root of the system on which the Tokugawa rule was based, after the closing of the country to foreign intercourse in 1638, which was that of complete seclusion from the rest of the world, and the memorandum was, as might be said, pigeon-holed for future reference.

To fully appreciate the risk that Sakuma ran in putting forward proposals so entirely subversive of the existing order of things, it must be brought to mind for an instant that early in the seventeenth century of the Christian era, at a time when the over-sea trade of Japan had attained to some importance, the Tokugawa Government sternly suppressed all trade with foreign nations on account of the attempts of the Jesuit missionaries, it was said, to obtain for their order that political influence in Japan that they had succeeded in securing at the time in China. The construction of large vessels was prohibited under very severe penalties, and a maritime trade that bade fair to prove eminently advantageous to Japan was strangled at the outset. As far as can be gleaned from the records of that period, Japan had in 1620 about 200 ocean-going ships, fit to brave the storms that were usually to be encountered in the course of a voyage to India, Mexico, or the islands of the South Seas, where the Japanese flag was in those days by no means rarely to be seen. The order that thenceforward Japanese ships were to have but one mast struck at the root of naval expansion, and Japan was still suffering the consequences of this drastic regulation when Sakuma penned his remarkable essay on needed measures of defence.

When his feudal chief, at a later date, returned to his own province Sakuma went back also, being no longer in the employ of the Shogun, though of course the clan administration was still conducted in full accord with the prevailing system, under which the Shogun, as the Emperor’s deputy, managed the nation’s secular affairs and controlled its foreign policy. It was not long, however, before Sakuma was again in Yedo, this time occupying himself in teaching Dutch, of which he had acquired a competent knowledge, to a group of pupils whose ideas tended to coincide with his own. It was at this period that he wished to publish a Dutch-Japanese dictionary, but the Shogun’s officials, so strict were still the laws on this point, could not grant the desired permission. And in the fifth year of the Ka-yei era, corresponding to 1852, the year before Commodore Perry made his appearance off the shores of Idzu province, Sakuma sought to issue a handbook on gunnery, but this right was likewise denied him. The work was entirely from his own pen, and it is to be regretted that it has not, so far as is known, been translated.

The next year eight American warships arrived at the little bay of Uraga, close to the entrance of the gulf of Yedo, and it was freely stated that they had brought a message to the effect that unless the Japanese were prepared to open their ports to trade with all nations these “black ships” would find their way to Yedo itself and bombard the castle of the Shogun. The prospect filled the minds of the people of the locality with horror. Japan had no naval or military strength to oppose to these invaders. It was mournfully recognised that the coast forts then in existence had no armaments that would enable them for an instant to cope with the powerful guns on board the American ships. Japan had in secluding herself failed to keep pace with the march of progress, and was wholly at the mercy of the powers of the Occident. China had had, as in Japan they well knew, to endure in 1841 the intrusion of foreign troops, and the forcible entry of Western vessels into the waters of the Yang-tse-kiang, and now Japan, though she had secluded herself for centuries from the unwelcome attentions of foreign nations, was destined to undergo, as it seemed, the forcible encroachment on her dominions of Western barbarians with whom she had no sort of sympathy, and whose acquaintance she had absolutely no desire whatever to make.

Sakuma was stirred to action. Mounting his horse, he set off alone to Uraga, riding at full speed, resolved to see for himself, as a first step, what manner of men these visitors were, and to gather, if he could, from their attitude to the local inhabitants, what were the real intentions of the intruders. He saw sufficient, as he judged, to form an opinion, and speedily returned to Yedo in order that he might make a report to his feudal chief, who was then staying in the capital. Soon afterwards Sakuma was appointed a member of the general staff, and given the command of the military forces. While enjoying the opportunities which his position afforded him, he frequently at this period advocated the adoption of a new and more complete system of training, as being requisite if Japan desired not merely to protect herself from the aggression of those foreign powers which had already worked their will upon China, but to be in a position some day to choose her own friends should a recourse to Occidental methods suggest itself as politically advantageous to his countrymen. But his aspirations met with no favourable response at headquarters. His ideas were pronounced to be crude and altogether needlessly alarmist in their tendency. He was compelled, therefore, to bury his hopes for the time being, trusting that in the chapter of accidents something might arise to add force to his own respectful but solemn warnings of the danger of delay.