Part 3

Marco Polo’s references to “Jipangu,” as we have seen, were not based on his personal observations but on information derived from the Chinese, and though he travelled widely in China, accompanied by his brother, he never set foot on Japanese soil. That an island empire existed to the east of them, however, had been known to the Chinese for centuries, and Kublai Khan had unsuccessfully sought to bring it into subjection only a short time prior to the Polos’ arrival at his Court in 1275. It is probable that Christopher Columbus, when setting sail from Palos in 1492, hoped to reach “Jipangu,” of which he had doubtless heard through the publicity given to Marco Polo’s travels, by sailing westward, and it is possible that Columbus imagined that he had found his way to some part of an Eastern continent when he discovered America. The first traveller to actually land in Japan was Fernao Mendes Pinto, in 1542, seven years before the Jesuit Missionary Francisco Xavier arrived there. Pinto was favourably received in Bungo, a province of Kiushiu, the large island in the south-west of Japan, and arrangements were made for a vessel to visit Bungo with foreign produce, every other year. Pinto belonged to Coimbra, in Portugal, and thus it is to that power that is due the honour of its subjects having been the first to visit Japanese shores. Pinto’s ship was the only survivor of three which started from Lisbon on a voyage of adventure, and it was from her crew that the Japanese first acquired a knowledge of the use of firearms. The Bungo province gives its name to the narrow channel that here divides the islands of Kiushiu and Shikoku, which is exceptionally rich in historical associations, for if tradition be in this instance correct it was in one of its many little bays that the vessel conveying the ancestor of the Ten-shi, the first Emperor Jimmu Tenno, dropped anchor over 2500 years ago. Where Jimmu Tenno came from remains an absolute mystery, but it seems to be fairly established that he brought with him a mighty host, armed for conquest, and that he had early encounters with the tribes then inhabiting the south and west of Hondo, the main island. One of these was the Yamato tribe, which probably at that remote period dwelt in what is now Iwami, and its occupancy of the coast facing the peninsula of Korea, might be taken to imply that its people originally crossed the water from that kingdom, though it would not of necessity follow that the men of Yamato were identical in race with the dwellers in Korea at the present day. Fighting his way along the borders of the Inland Sea, the invading chieftain Jimmu Tenno ultimately reached the neighbourhood of what is now Kioto, and set up his capital in that region. It is not improbable that he brought with him many members of the Yamato tribe that he had subjugated, and this may account for the presence to this day in that part of Japan of numberless families possessing the characteristics in a marked degree of what is termed the Yamato race,—in other words, the elongated features and intellectual aspect as distinguished from the round chubby countenances of the majority of the men and women of the hei-min, or common stock, which forms so large a percentage of the entire population. The Yamato people may have emigrated in the first place from Manchuria, passing through Korea on their way to Japan, and though it may be condemned as fanciful the idea is perhaps not altogether groundless that in seeking to recover Manchuria in recent years from the grip of the Muscovite the Japanese may in reality have been striving, though few were aware of it, to deliver their own ancestral home from the presence of the Western intruder.

Jimmu Tenno began to reign as Emperor of Japan in 667 B.C., being then, it is supposed, about thirty-five years of age. Ancient Japanese tradition no doubt assigned to him a supernatural origin, and it is not difficult to trace in the unexpected advent on Japanese soil of the conqueror and his knights the germ of such a belief, supported as it probably was by martial prowess to a degree with which the then peaceful inhabitants of the Japanese chain of islands were totally unfamiliar. The peoples of the adjoining mainland of Asia—that is to say, the Chinese and the Manchus, as well as the Koreans—were appreciably in advance, it is to be presumed, in the arts of war, of any of the islanders of that age, and the invaders, as Jimmu Tenno and his men must have been, of Southern Japan, seven centuries before the Christian era, may have been regarded, and not altogether unnaturally, as beings descended from another planet. The Emperor Jimmu’s mother was a daughter, we are told, of the Sun-Goddess and the Sea-God (the Japanese Neptune) and in this myth may be traced a notable parallel to that concerning Romulus, the founder and first King of Rome, whose father was reputed to have been Mars, the god of war. Romulus founded Rome just eighty-six years before Jimmu became the founder of the dynasty of Japanese emperors, but there the parallel ends, for while Rome became a republic in less than 250 years, and underwent endless vicissitudes, a direct descendant of Jimmu occupies the imperial throne of Japan to-day.

In the older histories of Japan one may read how the Isles of Sunrise came into existence, and the legend is pretty enough to merit recognition in lands other than that to which it especially applies. When all was chaos on this globe, very far back in its nebulous stage of existence,—when the purer elements were ascending to form its skies, and the impure were gathering to form its earth,—the god Izanagi, with his august spouse the goddess Izanami beside him, was standing on the ethereal arch that spans the higher heavens, bearing in his hand the jewel-spear. Suddenly he thrust the weapon downward and with it probed the watery expanse beneath. As he drew it forth from Ocean, drops of foam and brine fell from its point, and in congealing formed an island. That island is called “Foam-land” (Awaji), in the centre of what is now Japan, and it bars the passage from the eastward to the picturesque “Inland Sea.” In it Izanagi and Izanami took up their abode, and gradually formed the other islands of the group. The Sun-goddess and the Sea-god were their children, and Ama-no-terasu, the “Splendour of the Skies,” was their grand-daughter, and became the parent of Jimmu Tenno, the first Emperor of Japan.

In the month of July 1853, there appeared to the astonished gaze of the inhabitants of the little fishing village of Uraga, situated on the Pacific coast within ten miles of the entrance to the Gulf of Tokio, a squadron of “black ships,” as the children termed the war vessels, the like of which they had never before seen or even heard of, and not long afterwards a boat was rowed ashore and a party of officers landed. For 230 years there had been no communication with strangers, the edicts of the Shogun Iyeyasu and his successors in the office having expressly prohibited all intercourse, for reasons which need not be given here, and the open defiance of the law of the land implied by the visit of the Americans filled the villagers with consternation. It was discovered that the unwelcome guests had brought a letter for the reigning monarch of Japan, and this the head man of the place agreed to forward to the proper officials. Commodore Perry happened to reach Japan at a time when the feudal lords of the various provinces had become jealous of the long-continued supremacy of the Tokugawa line of Shoguns, deputies of the crown who had for two and a half centuries practically ruled the country, in the name of the monarchs who had remained in seclusion at the palace of Kioto while their lieutenants governed the land from Yedo. The movement in favour of the re-establishment of the direct rule of the Emperor, in place of the semi-regal authority which had been exercised by the descendants of Iyeyasu, the first Shogun of the Tokugawa line, had begun to take definite shape some years previously, as we shall discover when we consider the history of Fujita, Sakuma, and Yoshida,—patriots who flourished earlier in the nineteenth century,—and the advent of the American visitors served but to accentuate the difficulties of the situation for the Yedo potentate, who was placed on the horns of a dilemma. If he yielded to the demands of the Americans that the nation which had so long been hidden from the rest of the world should emerge from its retirement and admit foreigners within its gates, he would incur the wrath of the ultra-Conservative party among the nobility of his own land. If he refused to comply with the American President Fillmore’s amiable suggestions, Japan might yet share the fate of China, and a forcible invasion of his Imperial master’s dominions, which would be equally disastrous to himself as being responsible for the exclusion of the “barbarians,” was almost certain to occur. The Shogun took the advice of those who advocated the making of treaties with men whom they were not then strong enough in Japan to effectually exclude, and the thin end of the wedge was inserted by the conclusion of the compact,—at first nothing more than a promise of friendship,—between Japan and the United States of America.

Under the provisions of the American treaty then negotiated by Perry, the United States acquired the right of establishing a legation at Shimoda. This is a small town at the tip of the Idzu promontory, which extends in a southern direction from the province of Sagami, and it is sixty-five miles as the crow flies south-west of Yokohama. Over a building which had previously been a Buddhist temple the Stars and Stripes were hoisted at Shimoda in September 1856, and America’s accredited envoy, Mr Townsend Harris, resided there for many months, being the first of the diplomatic representatives of foreign powers to dwell in the newly awakened Land of Sunrise, and the first to arrange a treaty of commerce. Under the arrangement made with Commodore Perry there were to be two seaports opened to the reception of American vessels, where they might obtain coal, provisions, wood, and water. One of these ports was Shimoda, the other was Hakodate, in the northern island of Yeso. The treaty provided for hospitable behaviour towards shipwrecked crews,—a matter in which, had the instincts of the Japanese nation at large been appreciated as they are to-day it would perhaps have been deemed superfluous to make any stipulations—and it also included certain regulations for conducting trade and for the residence of consuls or agents, at the places named. The stay of the American agent at Shimoda was not of long duration, for on the opening of the capital, as a place wherein the representatives of other powers could most fittingly dwell, Mr Harris removed to that city. But it should not be lost sight of that Shimoda was for a time the official headquarters of the American Legation in Japan, and a place where the population was more or less accustomed to see foreigners long before the rest of the country,—save the trading ports of Yokohama, Kobé, Nagasaki, and three other places on the coast opened later—was available to strangers. The British treaty, made the same year by Admiral Stirling, was on similar lines. It was not until the Earl of Elgin concluded the treaty of 1858 that powers were obtained for the residence of the foreign ministers in Yedo, though it had been agreed that a third port,—that of Nagasaki,—should be opened to trade. The Elgin treaty in addition provided for the establishment of open ports at Kanagawa, Niigata, and Hiogo. But Kanagawa being a town situated on the highroad along which in those days it was usual for the feudal lords and their immense retinues to travel, and the feeling in many quarters being decidedly inimical to foreigners, it was deemed inexpedient to make it a focus of animosity due to the strangers’ settlement therein for purposes of trade whilst it might remain the recognised resting-place for imperial and other processions making the journey to and from Kioto and Yedo. Accordingly it was agreed that the little fishing village of Yokohama, _lit._: “the beach across the way,” on the other side of the bay of Kanagawa, which is itself a mere indentation of the coastline of the Gulf of Tokio, should become the actual place of residence of the foreign community. From this small beginning in 1859 the port speedily grew to be the centre of a vast and profitable trade, and its population now numbers 194,000, of whom 2100 are foreigners exclusive of Chinese. It is claimed for Kobé, a port in the channel separating Shikoku from Hondo, that it has eclipsed the older port of Yokohama in respect of its commerce, and it is in some things better situated for trade, particularly with the tea-producing districts. Kobé was originally a village adjoining Hiogo, which was the port that it was settled by treaty should be thrown open, and as a matter of fact it is divided from Hiogo only by a creek, a few feet wide. The port is now officially styled Kobé-Hiogo, and to all intents and purposes the two places are one.

Not only did the dai-mios of the western provinces modify their views on the subject of the admission of strangers but the reigning Emperor Komei himself ceased to contend at the last against that influx which if it could not be successfully resisted might very possibly, it was thought, be turned to good account in preparing the nation to combat other encroachments of a less pacific character in the days to come. It may well be that this resolution was arrived at in full view of events that were taking place in the extreme north of the Empire, where Russia was little by little feeling her way towards Yeso, and had already seized the moment of Japan’s preoccupation in respect of domestic concerns to establish herself in the island of Sakhalin, between which and Yeso only a narrow strait, twenty-five miles wide, existed to bar the path of the settlers to the virgin soil and luxuriant forests of “Hokkaido,” Japan’s “North Sea Circuit.” At all events the Emperor Komei about this time signified his willingness that the engagements which the Shogun had entered into with the powers of the Occident should be recognised and adhered to.

The Shogun Iyemochi, who had been wedded to the Emperor’s sister four years previously, but who had not during the intervening time wholly succeeded in overcoming his imperial master’s reluctance to ratify the treaties which his predecessor in the Shogunate Iyesada had made, was in 1864 residing at the castle of Osaka,—the stronghold built by the renowned Hideyoshi (the Tai-ko or generalissimo) at the close of the Sixteenth Century,—and was thus within a few hours’ journey of the imperial residence. His visit to Kioto that year (1864) had been marked by the Ten-shi’s favour despite the remembrance of his failure to induce the aliens to quit Japan’s shores, and no more had been heard of the proposition that he should forthwith expel the barbarians and restore peace to the country. The vital change in the sovereign’s ideas is believed to have been brought about mainly by the advice of the lord of the Satsuma province, who, as was to be seen, had changed his own opinion very considerably after the naval engagement at Kagoshima of the previous year. There can be no doubt that the influence of Shimadzu Saburo was largely instrumental in bringing about a reconciliation between the Emperor and the Shogun, and for the moment harmonious relations were re-established. The personal quarrel which arose with the lord Mori of Choshiu would have been a more serious matter for the Shogun had the Satsuma lord been ready to throw in his lot with Iyemochi’s opponents, and whatever may have been the feeling on the point at Hagi the disinclination of Satsuma to join the Choshiu clansmen in the attack on Kioto may be held to have turned the scale against Mori. It was not long before the two clans were actually united, however, in a successful attempt to demolish the Shogunate altogether. It is thought that when Iyemochi obeyed the summons of the Ten-shi to visit Kioto with, in the first place, the avowed object of concerting measures for the expulsion of aliens, he took the fatal step of subordinating his own party’s policy to that of the Court party, and thereby hastened the downfall of the Tokugawa family, for the strength of the Shogunate had lain in the assertion of its prerogatives as inheriting the privileges of its founder, the law-giver Iyeyasu, and who re-established it in the beginning of the Seventeenth Century.

But to return to the events of 1864, it was with excellent judgment and an intuitive perception of the favourable turn which affairs were then taking that Sir Harry Parkes, the British Minister, who had succeeded Sir Rutherford Alcock, seized the precise moment to despatch two members of his Legation staff, Messrs Mitford and Satow,—the present Lord Redesdale, and Sir Ernest Satow, now British representative at Peking,—to see the Shogun and personally endeavour to arrive at some satisfactory arrangement concerning the opening of the remaining ports to trade for which sanction had been obtained by the provisions of the Elgin treaty. The visit ended with complete satisfaction to the negotiators, and when the four powers directly concerned—viz. Holland, France, the United States, and Britain—urged officially on the Shogun the desirability of speedily opening Hiogo (Kobé) he agreed to write a letter to his imperial master suggesting that this should be done. The Emperor Komei at first refused but ultimately gave his consent. It was settled that Hiogo, and with it Osaka, should be opened to foreign trade and residence on and from the 1st of January 1868, which was five years later than had been contemplated by the framers of the Elgin treaty, but under the then existing circumstances it was highly creditable to the delegates to have achieved so much.

The defeat of the Choshiu men in their earlier attempt to capture Kioto had had the effect of inducing them to study the art of war as practised in the Occident, and when Iyemochi, in consonance with the imperial command, sought to chastise Baron Mori, and promptly marched his troops through the provinces bordering the Inland Sea as far as Nagato, he found himself confronted by a superior force of riflemen, armed after the modern fashion, who, though they lacked everything in the way of military uniform, had acquired sufficient knowledge of drill and co-operation to render them doughty opponents for any force that the Shogun could place in the field against them at that stage of the national development. The men who bore rifles were not in pre-Restoration days regarded as the highest in rank among soldiers, for the Japanese had of old a predilection for the personal combat, hand to hand, and were prone to despise warfare of the kind in which a missile was hurled at the foe from a comparatively safe distance. Thus the swordsman ranked highest in Japanese estimation down to a very recent period,—but the Choshiu riflemen proved by their able use of modern firearms that a power such as had been before unknown in relation to implements of strife lay in the weapons that they so coolly and dexterously handled to the complete discomfiture of their enemies. And thus was laid, it may be supposed, the foundation of that high standard of superiority which the Choshiu troops have since attained as regards their ability to wage war on modern principles. They developed a natural aptitude for the employment of firearms from a date long prior to the present Emperor’s reign, and for some years were the only force in Japan that might be said to have adopted western armaments, with perhaps the sole exception of a force of foreign-drilled infantry (some 800 in all), belonging to the Shogun, under Kubota Sentaro, which took part on behalf of the Japanese authorities in a review and sham fight that was held at Kanasawa, near Yokohama, on the 21st March 1866, at a time when it was needful to have a few British troops in the town for purposes of defence against a possible sudden descent of some recalcitrant dai-mio’s followers.