The Imperial Japanese Navy

by Fred T. Jane

Here for two hundred years the Dutch traded unmolested. The civil commotion quieted down, and with her seclusion from the outside world Japan entered upon an era of domestic peace. There were no more great civil wars, and, save for the conflicts of the Samaurai against each other, the nation grew ignorant of the art of war.

As these Samaurai were the ancestors of modern Japanese naval officers, some account of their methods of training may be worthy of study, for to them it is undoubtedly due that Japan exists as one of the great Powers to-day. Otherwise she would assuredly have sunk to the Chinese level of an ultra-high civilisation in which courage has no place, and in which the military profession is lower than the meanest civil calling. From all this the Samaurai saved Japan.

The country was then under a feudal system. The Emperor, the nominal head of the State, was a mere figure-head, too sacred to concern himself with mundane affairs—a condition of mind which generations of clever tutelage at the hands of various Shoguns had produced. More often than not the Shogun’s rule was of a similar nature, a regent being the real head of the State. Under the Shogun or his regent were the governors of provinces; under these the great feudal lords, each of whom maintained his Samaurai, or fighting men. The soldier-ant is the nearest natural equivalent to these Samaurai, who only very partially resembled our knights of the Middle Ages. Below the Samaurai, and cordially despised by them, were the lower classes, engaged in trade and agriculture. The exact social equivalent of the Samaurai in our society system does not exist, but probably the old “squireens,” a now almost extinct class of small country gentry, would most nearly occupy the same social status. The Samaurai might be richer or poorer than the working class, but in all cases they cordially despised them, and were in turn respected or feared.

These Samaurai lived in a constant state of killing and being killed. If one of them left his house, he took his life in his hand from that moment. Duels were frequent, murders common, and the fearful form of suicide known as hari-kari was performed by them without a shudder at the slightest hint of an insult that could not be avenged. Vendettas, too, were everlasting, so that altogether the Samaurai were by heredity inured to a callous disregard of life and suffering. In all their crimes and vices they cultivated the grand Spartan virtues, and Japan will yet, perhaps, reap the benefit of those centuries of training.

II
THE OPENING OF JAPAN

The knowledge of the Dutch hold upon Japan inspired other nations with a desire to secure similar benefits. Russia, in particular, strove to secure a footing, but all her attempts were unavailing. British and Americans met with a like fate; there was no Government that would deal with them, the law of isolation had gone forth, and isolated Japan remained. So greatly, too, did the nation esteem its state, that a law long existed whereby the building of a ship of any size was a crime punishable by death.

At last, in 1848, the United States, which had deep interests in the whale fisheries in Far Eastern waters, and was also concerned in establishing a line of steamers between California and the recently opened free ports in China, took official instead of merely individual measures to open up communication with Japan. A coaling station in Japan was an absolute necessity if the projected line of steamers was to be realised; but the reaching of any governing body with power to grant such a station was the difficulty. However, in 1852, Commodore Perry was sent with a squadron to Japan, and reached the Bay of Yeddo in July, 1853, bearing a friendly letter from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan.[1] The commodore had orders to use force, if necessary, as a last resort;[2] but the thousands of troops that were gathered to meet him made no attack. Having managed to deliver his message and impress the authorities with the fact that an answer would be required, the commodore left.

So soon as he had gone the Shogun’s Government found itself on the horns of a dilemma. If a treaty were made with the foreigners, internal trouble from a people already permeated with a desire to restore to power the real Emperor might be expected to a certainty; if they refused, the American show of force convinced them that grave trouble would lie ahead, trouble which the Japanese, with their old-fashioned fighting methods, could never successfully combat.

The most prominent personage in Japan at that moment was the Daimio of Mito. He advocated absolute refusal of the American demands, and the exclusion of all foreigners by force of arms, if necessary. He recalled the famous wars of the past, and nearly every Daimio in the country followed his lead. Forts were erected on the shore, the bells of temples melted and made into cannon, and as many Samaurai as possible were drilled with the most modern fire-arms procurable. They got these through the Dutch at Nagasaki.