Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

Whatever differences of view prevailed, between his political supporters and his political enemies, as to the purity of Naosuké’s patriotic sentiments, there was little opportunity for difference as to certain other important elements of his character. He had conspicuously the qualities needed for taking a position of dictatorial command in times of turbulence and extreme emergency. Serious in purpose, but slow in making up his mind, he had undaunted firmness in carrying out his plans, such that “no amount of difficulties would make him falter or find him irresolute.”

The burning question of foreign intercourse which the coming of Commodore Perry had forced upon the Shōgunate in 1853, had afterward been referred to the barons of the land. They favoured exclusion by a large majority; and some of them were ready to enforce it at the expense of a foreign war. But the recent experience of China at the hands of the allied forces was beginning to teach the Far East that lesson of preparedness by foreign and modern education which Japan has since so thoroughly learned; and to the fuller magnitude of which China herself is just awakening. To take the extreme position of complete and final resistance to the demands of the foreign forces seemed obviously to court speedy and inevitable ruin for the country at large. Yet none of the barons, except the Baron of Hikoné, had a plan to propose by which to exclude alike the peaceful foreigner come to trade and the armed foreigner come to enforce his country’s demand for peaceful intercourse by the use of warlike means.

It is interesting to notice that Naosuké answered the question of the Shōgunate in a manner to indicate the consistent policy of his country from 1853 down to the present time. He did not, it is probable, love or admire the personality of the foreign invader more than did his brother barons; or more than does the average Chinese official at the present time. On consulting with his own retainers, he found the “learned Nakagawa” the sole supporter of his views. All the clan, with the exception of this teacher and scholar, favoured exclusion at any cost. “The frog in the well knows not the great ocean,” says the Japanese proverb. And as to the Japanese people, who at that time were kept “in utter ignorance of things outside of their own country,” Count (now Prince) Yamagata said in 1887, with reference to the superior foresight of Baron Ii: “Their condition was like that of a frog in a well.”

In spite of the almost complete loneliness of his position among the barons of the first rank, Naosuké advised the Shōgunate that the tendencies of the times made it impossible longer to enforce the traditional exclusiveness of Japan. But he also—and this is most significant of his far-sighted views—advised the repeal of the law, issued early in the seventeenth century, which prohibited the building of vessels large enough for foreign trade; and this advice he coupled with the proposal that Japan should build navies for the protection, in future, of her own coasts. “Thus prepared,” he writes, “the country will be free from the menaces and threatenings of foreign powers, and will be able to uphold the national principle and polity at any time.”

The division of opinion, and the bloody strifes of political parties, in Japan, over the question of exclusion were not settled by the Convention for the relief of foreign ships and sailors which followed upon the return of the war-ships of the United States, and of other foreign countries, in 1854. Quite the contrary was the truth. When Mr. Townsend Harris arrived as Consul General in 1856, and began to press the question of foreign trade and residence in a more definite form, the party favouring exclusion was stronger, more bitter, and more extreme than before. In their complete ignorance of the very nature of a commercial treaty, the rulers of Japan quite generally mistook the American demand to open Kanagawa, Yedo, Osaka, Hiogo, and Niigata for an extensive scheme of territorial aggression. This they were, of course, ready to resist to their own death and to the ruin of the country. When the senators prepared a memorial to the Imperial Cabinet, stating their difficulty and the necessity of conforming to the foreign demand, and sent it to the Imperial Capital by the hand of their president, Baron Hotta, they were therefore instructed to delay, and to consult further with the Tokugawa Family and with the Barons of the land, before again even venturing to refer the matter to the Government at Kyoto. These instructions were, under the circumstances, equivalent to a flat and most dangerous refusal to allow the opening of the country at all.

It has not been generally recognised in his own country, how extremely important and yet how difficult was the position of Mr. Townsend Harris during the years, 1857-1858. Nor has he, in my judgment, been awarded his full relative share of credit for laying in friendly foundations the subsequent commercial and other forms of intercourse between the United States and Japan. Mr. Harris’ task was in truth larger and more complicated than that of Commodore Perry. The factors of Japanese politics opposed to its accomplishment were more manifold and vehement. Moreover, the question of foreign intercourse was then complicated by two other questions of the most portentous magnitude for the internal politics and political development of Japan. These were, the question of who should be the heir-apparent to the then ruling Shōgun; and the yet more important, and even supremely important question of how the Shōgunate should in the future stand related to the virtual—and not merely nominal—supremacy of the Imperial House. The opposition on both these questions was substantially the same as the opposition to permitting foreign trade and residence in the land. If then Commodore Perry deserves the gratitude of all for making the first approaches, in a way without serious disruption and lasting hatred, to begin the difficult task of opening Japan, Townsend Harris certainly deserves no less gratitude for enlarging and shaping into more permanent form the same “opening,” while quite as skilfully and effectively avoiding the exasperation of similar and even greater political evils.

His many embarrassments forced upon the somewhat too timid and hesitating Shōgun the necessity of selecting some one man upon whom the responsibility and the authority for decisive action could be confidently reposed. Seeing this man in the person only of Ii Kamon-no-Kami, Lord of Hikoné, he appointed him to the position of Tairō. Now, this position of Tairō, or “Great Elder,” which may be paraphrased by “President-Senator,” was one of virtual dictatorship. Only the Shōgun, who appointed him, could remove the Tairō or legally resist his demands. Naosuké was the last to hold this office; for fortunately for Japan the Shōgunate itself soon came to an end; but he will be known in history as Go-Tairō,—the dictator especially to be honoured, because he was bold, clear-sighted, and ready to die in his country’s behalf. On June 5, 1858, Baron Ii was installed in the position which gave him the power to conclude the treaty, and which at the same time made him responsible for its consequences of weal or woe, to individuals and to the entire nation,—even to the world at large. In this important negotiation the Japanese Baron Naosuké, and the American gentleman, Harris, were henceforth the chief actors.

It is not my intention to recite in detail the history of the negotiations of 1858, or of the difficulties and risks which the Tairō had to face in his conduct of them. While the Mikado’s sanction for concluding the treaty with Mr. Harris was still anxiously awaited, two American men-of-war arrived at Shimoda; and a few days later these were followed by Russian war-ships and by the English and French squadrons which had so recently been victorious in their war with China. It was by such arguments that America and Europe clinched the consent of reluctant Japan to admit them to trade and to reside within her boundaries!

It seemed plain enough now that the Yedo Government could not longer wait for permission from the Imperial Government to abandon its policy of exclusion. Two of its members, Inouyé and Iwasé, were forthwith sent to confer with the Consul General at Shimoda. When Mr. Harris had pointed out the impossibility of continuing the policy of exclusion, the dangers of adhering obstinately to the traditions of the past, and had assured them of America’s friendly intervention to secure favourable terms with the other powers of the West, the commissioners returned to Yedo to report. But still the opposing party grew; and still the Imperial Government delayed its consent. Meantime the bitterness against Baron Ii was increased by the failure of his enemies to secure the succession to the Shōgunate for their favoured candidate. None the less, the Tairō took upon himself the responsibility of despatching the same men with authority to sign that Convention between the United States and Japan which, in spite of the fact that it bore the name of the “Temporary Kanagawa Treaty” and was subject to revision after a specified term of years, remained unchanged until as late as 1895. This important event bore date of a little more than a half-century ago—namely, July 29, 1858.

It is foreign to my purpose to examine the charges, urged against Ii Kamon-no-Kami, of disobedience to the Imperial Government and of traitorous conduct toward his country. The latter charge has long since been withdrawn; and for this has been substituted the praise and homage due to the patriot who is able to oppose public opinion, to stand alone, to be “hated even by his relatives,” and to sacrifice his life in his country’s behalf. That the Tairō did not obey the Imperial command to submit again the question of exclusion to a council of the Tokugawa princes and the Barons of the land is indeed true. On the other hand, it is to be said that the Imperial Government, by not forbidding the Treaty, had thrown back upon the Shōgunate the responsibility for deciding this grave question; and that the appearance of the foreign war-ships gave no further opportunity, in wisdom, for continuing the policy of procrastination and delay. The hour demanded a man of audacity, of clear vision into the future, and of willingness to bear the full weight of a responsible decision. The hour found such a man in the Japanese Naosuké, hereditary feudal lord of Hikoné, but by providence in the position of Tairō, or military dictator. It was fortunate, indeed, for the future relations of the United States and Japan, and for the entire development of the Far East under European influences, that an American of such patience, kindliness, tactful simplicity, and sincere moral and religious principle, met at the very critical point of time a Japanese of such knightly qualities of honour, fearlessness, and self-centred force of character. This point of turning for two political hemispheres, this pivot on which swung the character of the intercourse between Far East and Occident, owes more, I venture to think, to Townsend Harris and to Ii Kamon-no-Kami than to any other two men.