IV. NEGOTIATIONS AND RENEWED ASSASSINATIONS, 1862-64.
British and French guards brought to Yedo—Marks a new era—Decided position of British Government—Concessions asked by Japanese, refused by Mr Alcock, granted by Earl Russell to Japanese envoys—Retrogression—Position of foreign Ministers assimilating to that of the Dutch at Deshima—Mr Alcock's departure for Europe, 1862—Bad effects of Lord Russell's concessions to Japanese—Encouraged them to make fresh demands—The building of a British Legation in Yedo—Chargé d'affaires resides mostly in Yokohama—Colonel Neale's account of the system of guarding the Legation—Midnight attack on the guards—British sentries murdered—Suspicious behaviour of Government—British guard increased—Admiral Hope's opinion—Attack on an English riding party and murder of Mr Richardson on highroad—Admiral Hope's proposal to "nip assassination in the bud."
The question now, therefore, entered on a new phase. Since reliance on the Government afforded no sense of security, the foreigners must abandon the position or find some more effective protection, not to supersede, but to supplement, that which was afforded by the Government. There was fortunately a British despatch vessel, the Ringdove, at the moment at Yokohama, to the commander of which Mr Alcock appealed for a guard of marines and bluejackets. These arrived the next day, twenty-five all told, with Captain Craigie himself at their head, and they were happily accompanied by a detachment of fifteen men from the French transport Dordogne, brought up by the French Minister, Mons. de Bellecourt, always a staunch supporter of his British colleague. That gentleman, on hearing the tragic news at Yokohama, where he had been staying, returned promptly to his post with this most welcome reinforcement for the defence of the Legations. This simple proceeding marked the beginning of a new era in the foreign relations with Japan—the era in which the Powers represented there took the law into their own hands, with highly important consequences to Japan and to the world. The British naval guard was reinforced within a few months by a mounted escort of twelve men drawn from the force then in China. This step was strongly objected to by the Tycoon's Ministers, but the answer was complete: the Government's acknowledged incompetence had forced this measure of self-defence on the Legations. The position taken up by Mr Alcock was confirmed in the most explicit manner by Earl Russell a year later, who thus addressed the Japanese envoys in London:—
Her Majesty's Government will not agree to any proposal which may be made by the Ministers of the Tycoon having for its object to preclude the representatives of the Queen in Japan from maintaining a cavalry escort for the protection of her Majesty's servants in that country. The Tycoon cannot ensure the safety of the British officers within the precincts of the capital and its immediate neighbourhood; and even if the Tycoon were to engage to do so, it is notorious that he would not have the power to fulfil his engagement.
This plain speaking defined the status of "old" Japan, and gave the clue to the remarkable train of events which followed.
Much anxiety and many sinister rumours, but no serious outrages, disturbed the peace of the Legations and the general foreign community during the remainder of the year 1861. Mr Oliphant was sent home in consequence of his wounds, and the occasion was taken advantage of to have certain private conferences with the Japanese Foreign Ministers, at which that gentleman assisted, when the "past, present, and future" were confidentially discussed. Mr Oliphant, thus thoroughly "posted," was able personally to explain the state of affairs to her Majesty's Ministers, which greatly assisted them in forming their decisions. He was also the bearer of an autograph letter from the Tycoon to her Majesty the Queen.
The Japanese Government had long been pressing the foreign representatives for the relaxation of some of the articles in the treaties, which were not to come into operation until a subsequent date. These provided for the opening of Yedo for general residence on 1st January 1862, and for the opening of the trading ports of Hiogo, Osaka, and Ní-í-gata on 1st January 1863. The Tycoon's Government was most anxious to postpone all these privileges to an indefinite period, nominally seven years, and as the foreign Ministers in Yedo had no such authority—Mr Alcock had been instructed to grant "no concessions without equivalents"—the Government prepared to despatch special envoys to the five Courts of Europe with which they had treaties. A similar mission to the United States the previous year had been so well received as to encourage the second effort. The principle involved in the Japanese plea was precisely the same as that which had kept Canton closed for so many years, notwithstanding the treaty provision opening it; but there was this difference of fact between the two cases, that whereas the danger apprehended and alleged by the Japanese was probably real, that which had been put forward by the Chinese was false, and manufactured by the authorities themselves.
The Japanese were now in full retrogression, and every point they might gain was certain to become a new fulcrum for forcing more and more concessions from the foreign Powers. This was proved in many kinds of ways. For example, the restrictions placed on the foreign envoys, by which they were kept as prisoners in their Legations, and were attended in their walks abroad by officious guards who prevented them from seeing more than could be helped, and forbade intercourse with the people, were almost tantamount to those formerly imposed on the Dutch in Deshima. Mr Oliphant frankly speaks of his "jailors." Then repression, and yet more repression—as much repression, in fact, as the foreigners could be brought to endure—was the unvarying rule. Even when they were themselves seeking favours, and had therefore every inducement to show their liberal side to the foreign Minister, the rule of repression was rigorously maintained. Mr Alcock relates how this determination prevented him from presenting the Queen's reply to the Tycoon's letter. First, the audience was delayed on frivolous grounds; then the ceremonial was varied. Among other things it was proposed to place the envoy at double the distance from the Tycoon which had been observed on a previous occasion. Being anxious to take his leave, to present his locum tenens, and to deliver the Queen's autograph, Mr Alcock waived these innovations under protest—"being reluctant at the last moment to stand upon a point of mere etiquette"; but "having found my desire was strong not to raise difficulties on any minor points, it had been resolved [by the Japanese] to profit by the circumstance to gain some further advantages derogatory to the position of the British Minister," and so after everything had been arranged according to their own wishes the Court officials returned the following day to say they had made a mistake, and that, in fact, sundry further restrictions must be observed. This was too much, and the Minister quitted the capital without his audience, March 1862.
The same tactics were observed by the envoys in Europe. When the mission reached London and had laid their case before the same Foreign Secretary who had instructed the Minister in Japan to "make no concessions without equivalents," he at once conceded the whole of the Japanese demands unconditionally, for the nominal conditions were merely that the rest of the treaty should stand. A detailed memorandum of the agreement was drawn up and formally signed by Earl Russell and the three Japanese envoys on June 6, 1862. Having succeeded beyond all expectation in their demands, the Japanese envoys evidently concluded that the Foreign Office was of plastic substance, and within two days they had formulated a list of nine further concessions which they desired to discuss. This, however, was too much for Lord Russell's patience, and as the envoys had "completed their business and taken their leave," he declined to enter on any fresh questions.
The effect of Lord Russell's concessions could not be otherwise than detrimental, the only open question being whether his insistence on opening the ports on the agreed dates would have been a greater or a lesser evil. Mr Alcock points out the family likeness between the Japanese pleas for suspension of treaty rights and those with which we had so long been familiar in China. "The time," he says, allowed to the authorities of Canton to "soothe the people and prepare the way" was deliberately used by them to "create the very difficulties which they alleged already to exist, and make it each year more and more impossible to admit the foreigners,"—a comment on the Japanese proposal which leaves little doubt as to his opinion of that transaction. Yet there were cogent reasons for the course actually adopted, if the premisses be granted that the ports could only be opened by force, and that England would have been left alone to employ the necessary force. The most that can be said, then, for the concessions to the Japanese is that they represented the choice of evils. No one was benefited by them. They did not help the Tycoon or avert the catastrophe to his dynasty. They did not lessen the friction, or the danger to foreign life and interests, or interrupt the long series of assassinations of foreigners in Japan; nor did they obviate the necessity of using force in that country, to avoid which was the principal inducement to her Majesty's Government to violate its own principle. The analogy with China was, in fact, complete; the old lesson was once more driven home, that there is no safety in doing wrong. As Sir Rutherford Alcock puts it, "To retrograde safely and with dignity is often more difficult for nations and their governments than to advance."
During the year 1861 an important improvement was inaugurated in respect to the housing of the foreign Legations. Hitherto they had been accommodated in temples neither suited to Western modes of living nor, as had been proved, adapted for defence. Independent sites were now allotted on a commanding ridge within the city, where the respective Ministers might have buildings erected on their own plans. These were promptly put in hand, and soon after Mr Alcock was able to bring his first arduous campaign—a term applicable in its double sense—to a close. Having brought the various business of the Legation into a state convenient for transfer to new hands, he left Yedo in March 1862, a few days before the arrival of the future chargé d'affaires, Lieutenant-Colonel Edward St John Neale. The Minister was accompanied to England by Moriyama, the chief interpreter to the Japanese Foreign Office, who was charged with special instructions to the three envoys then in England.
From the time that Colonel Neale took charge of the British Legation events chased each other rapidly. While the new buildings were in progress the chargé d'affaires divided his time between Yedo and Yokohama, and while in the capital continued to reside in the temple called To-zen-ji, where the Legation had been located from the beginning. The inner buildings were guarded by the mounted escort and by the naval contingent, which had been renewed as one British warship took the place of another during the year. In the outer enclosure there was a guard of 500 Japanese, the retainers of a certain Daimio who was intrusted by the Tycoon with the protection of the Legation.
In order to understand what follows, it is necessary to give Colonel Neale's account of the arrangements which were in force for the protection of the British Legation:—
I found on my arrival that the usual precautions had been taken by the authorities, and which consisted in placing numerous guards, entirely surrounding this residence, in detached wooden huts: the number of these guards, according to the Japanese return which I obtained, amounted to no less than 535 men, partly of the Tycoon's bodyguard, but chiefly composed of the retainers of a Daimio named Matsudaira Temba no Kami, who had been chosen and charged by the Government with the protection of this Legation.
Small parties of these men came down at short intervals during the night to the very doors of this residence, and remained for a short time with our own sentries, leaving behind them one man at each post to aid in challenging persons approaching and demanding the parole, which was in the Japanese language, and issued at sunset each evening.
These dispositions were uninterruptedly observed up to the evening of the 26th June. At midnight on that day the several British sentinels were at their post, and challenging with vigilance the Japanese guards, who, in parties of two or three, descended from the heights overhanging this building at the back for the purpose of relieving their men.
What took place at midnight on the 26th June may also be best described in Colonel Neale's own language:—
At half an hour after midnight the British sentry posted at the door adjoining my bedroom challenged some approaching object in my hearing, and received in answer the right parole; but the sentry sharply challenged again in an anxious and eager manner, as if some circumstance excited his suspicion, after which he walked three or four steps towards the object approaching. I rose in bed to hear the result, and in an instant the deadened sound of a rapid succession of heavy blows and cuts reached my ears, given in less than two minutes, and at every one of which followed a cry of anguish from the unfortunate sentry. Silence succeeded for the moment, and was followed by the beating of drums from the heights and the gathering of Japanese guards with their red lanterns.... The assassin having left the sentry at my door, went on towards the corner of the residence occupied by the guard, a distance of twenty paces, where he met Corporal Crimp, R.M., coming alone on his rounds to visit the sentry at my door. A conflict appears instantly to have taken place between them: a revolver-shot was heard about the moment the guard was turning out, but nothing further.
The corporal was found dead with sixteen sword and lance wounds: the sentry had nine sword-wounds—"every cut had severed the member it was aimed at"; but he survived long enough to tell of the instant desertion of the Japanese sentry who was posted with him.
This attack was marked by several distinguishing features:—
1. The assassins belonged to the Legation guard, or were their comrades; the only weapon found on the ground was a lance of the precise pattern of those of the Daimio's guard, which was twelve feet long, and, according to Colonel Neale, no man carrying such a weapon could have passed the strong barricade or crawled through the brushwood: presumably, therefore, the lance was supplied from the armoury within the Legation. According to the Japanese Ministers, there was but a single assassin. In their anxiety to maintain their contention that the wounds were all inflicted by the same man, the Ministers explained to Colonel Neale a little of the science of Japanese sword-play. "They have attained the climax of dexterity. The sword is always carried at the side, and adepts in the use of it wound the moment it is drawn." The fatal stroke, upwards, is given in the act of drawing. Hence, placing the hand on the hilt is equivalent to presenting a cocked revolver, and if the assailant is not disabled in the act it is too late for defence. One only, being wounded by a pistol-bullet and having committed suicide, was found, and though they could not help admitting that the man was a retainer of the Daimio who supplied the guard, the Ministers yet drew a vain distinction between him and the men actually on duty. It could not, however, be denied that he, or they, were allowed free ingress and egress through hundreds of men carefully posted as described by Colonel Neale, and already alert and sounding the alarm, or that the huts of the Japanese were within 150 feet of the spot where two Englishmen were murdered, and while the assassin (or assassins) was inflicting sixteen wounds on one victim and nine on the other.
2. The intended attack was publicly known beforehand: for several days the Japanese servants had refused to remain in the Legation overnight, absenting themselves against orders. The Government also were aware of the plot, and of the day when it was to be put in execution, which was on the recurrence of a festival, and, according to the Japanese calendar, the anniversary of the attack in 1861. The actual day having passed, one of the Governors of Foreign Affairs was deputed by the Council to call and congratulate Colonel Neale on his escape. Colonel Neale remarked that he had no reason for anxiety. The Governor smiled and took leave. But the "ides of March ... had not gone," In the darkness of that very night the attack was made. Colonel Neale, recounting the circumstances to the Council of Foreign Affairs, asked why the Governor had not warned him of what was impending, instead of congratulating him on his supposed escape; but "the Gorogiu, to my great surprise, replied that I was quite right in my observations, and they regretted they had not thought of warning me."
3. The Japanese Ministers treated the whole matter with apparent indifference, months having elapsed before any information was communicated to the British Minister respecting either the cause of the attack or the execution of justice on the instigators, and then it was only such information as had been common property for two months. All that the Japanese Ministers had to say by way of explanation to the foreign envoys was that the attack proceeded from the unsettled state of public feeling and from the Japanese nation clinging to the old régime; but that they, the Ministers, hoped gradually to modify this national feeling so that the foreigners might live in the country without apprehension, &c. But in the meantime? Well, they "had given strict orders to increase the protection." Tragicomedy could not well go further. Evidently matters must soon reach a climax.
As the first outward and visible consequence of the assassination of the two marines, an infantry guard of twenty-five men from the 67th Regiment was sent over from China in addition to the naval guard and the cavalry escort; and thus another step was taken towards the dénoûment of the plot. Then the word "retribution" was revived in the diplomatic correspondence, after having been launched by the Foreign Office in 1861 but arrested in transitu, so that it did not reach the Japanese authorities. It was Admiral Hope, a man who never shrank from speaking his mind or backing his opinion, who put the case in a pointed form to the British Admiralty. "Deeply as I should lament the adoption of hostile measures against the Japanese," he wrote on August 28, "after the best consideration I have been able to give to the subject I cannot avoid the conclusion that it is absolutely necessary to nip this assassination-system in the bud; and that not to take effectual measures for doing so now will be merely to postpone the evil day to a future, but not far distant, occasion."
If further impetus had been wanting to develop this idea, the Japanese lost no time in supplying it; for the next assassination which has left a dark blood-stain on the annals of the time was perpetrated on the highroad between Yedo and Kanagawa on September 14, 1862.
The victims were a party of three gentlemen and one lady from Yokohama who had crossed the bay in a boat to Kanagawa, where their horses awaited them on the tokaido. This broad road not being macadamised made an agreeable riding-course, and it was beautified with lines of old trees, one section in particular near where the tragedy occurred being known as "The Avenue." The party proceeded from Kanagawa towards Yedo, not intending to go farther than Kawasaki, which was the limit of authorised excursions in that direction. On the way they met the cortège of a Daimio, the first indication of which was several norimono (the heavy palanquin in which the nobles of Japan travel) with armed attendants, forming an irregular train with considerable intervals between. When passing these norimono the foreigners walked their horses. In the intervals where the road was clear they cantered, and this mode of alternate progression continued for three or four miles. Then a regular procession was met, preceded by about a hundred men marching in single file on either side of the road. The foreign party thereupon proceeded at a foot's pace, keeping close to the left side, until they reached "the main body, which was then occupying the whole breadth of the road." The English party halted on approaching the main body, according to one of the survivors; but according to another, they were stopped "when they had got about twelve men deep in the procession," by "a man of large stature[7] issuing from the main body," who, swinging his sword with both hands, cut at the two leading foreigners, Mr Richardson and Mrs Borrodaile, as their horses were being turned round, and then rushed on the other two. Whereupon the advance-guard, who had been described as marching in single file, closed in upon the retreating riders. They were all able by the speed of their horses to get clear of their assailants; but Mr Richardson was so terribly hacked that after going some distance he fell from his horse, dying, or, as his companions thought, dead. He lived, however, until the Daimio's procession reached the spot, when several of his retainers proceeded to butcher and mutilate the dying man in the most shocking manner. It speaks well for all three gentlemen that Mrs Borrodaile escaped substantially unhurt, though a sword-stroke aimed at her head cut away her hat as she stooped to avoid the blow. She saw Mr Richardson fall, and her two wounded companions, unable to render help, urged her to ride on. She miraculously arrived at Yokohama, bespattered with blood and in a state of very natural agitation. Mr Clarke and Mr Marshall, exhausted by their wounds, managed to reach Kanagawa, where they were properly cared for at the American consulate.
This tragedy made a more vivid impression on the world at large than previous ones had done, for several reasons. The cumulative effect of so many cold-blooded massacres was beginning to tell, and the Japanese cup was nearly full. There was a lady in the case who galloped seven miles for dear life, her horse falling twice under her. The chief victim was a fine specimen of a young Englishman, and very popular. The crime touched the general foreign community in Japan in a special manner, since the party belonged to, or were the guests of, Yokohama, where there were also newspapers and press correspondents to make literature of the event.
Some friction was created between the foreign community and the British representative by the ghastly circumstances of this murder. The community, seeing their own comrades slaughtered without mercy, were incensed, and called for vengeance, which they deemed to be within reach, for the Daimio's retinue were sleeping at Hodogaya, a station but a few miles off. There was force enough afloat and on shore to effect the capture of the murderers red-handed, and the residents called for this to be done. Reasons of policy and expediency influenced Colonel Neale in a contrary sense, in which he was fully supported by the Foreign Office when the reports reached England.
The Richardson murder, like that at the British Legation, had its special characteristics, though of a different order. The outrage was unpremeditated; the Government was not implicated: it was a fortuitous collision between the spirit and traditions of two opposed civilisations. The deed might be construed as the natural punishment of a breach of good manners—for Japanese etiquette, of which the party seemed to have been ignorant, required them to dismount—or, as the spontaneous expression of feudal Japan's deep hatred of the foreigner, concentrated in the act of a single moment. There was no need on this occasion to hazard guesses as to the responsible author of the crime, or to keep up a long train of make-believe negotiations. The cortège belonged to the Prince of Satsuma, and was escorting his father, Shimadso Saburo, who went afterwards to the Mikado and said he had been grossly insulted by the foreigners on the road, and had ordered them to be cut down.[8]
The problem was thus reduced to its simplest expression. The circumstances supplied precisely what was wanting to give shape and point to Admiral Hope's proposal to "nip this assassination-system in the bud"; and a month after the event he followed up his previous despatch to the Admiralty by a detailed scheme of reprisals, with the amount and precise distribution of the force required to give effect to it. And he concludes his despatch appropriately with the remark, that "should it be found necessary to use measures of coercion especially against Satsuma, ... the position and confirmation of his principality render him peculiarly open to attack."
There were now two reclamations on the Japanese Government—redress for the murder of the two marines at the Legation in June, and for the killing and wounding of the Richardson party in September. The British chargé d'affaires pressed both demands, without committing himself to specific threats until the mind of her Majesty's Government should be known. Lord Russell's instructions were sent on 24th December 1862, and would reach Japan some time in February. They were peremptory as to the use of force in case of need, whether against the Government or the Prince of Satsuma.