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,—