Makers of Japan

by J. Morris

The letter brought trouble to Sakuma’s door because it happened to fall into the hands of his political foes, who promptly denounced him to the Government as having instigated a Japanese subject to transgress the laws, and his arrest and imprisonment speedily followed. He was permitted to return to his native province, but was there confined to his own house, on pain of immediate punishment if he ventured to quit it. For nine years he endured this captivity, and then was set free, receiving thereupon invitations from the feudal lords of both Nagato and Tosa to settle in their territories and act in each case as adviser upon matters of coast defence. Nagato is the Japanese title of the province otherwise known as Cho-shiu, and Tosa is one of the four baronies of the Shikoku (lit.: four states) island, the third largest of the group forming the Japanese empire. Sakuma’s fame as an ardent reformer had already spread to the south, in which the two chieftains named held sway, and they thus early evinced their antagonism to the Tokugawa regime, and their recognition of the purity and self-sacrificing character of those ambitions for which Sakuma had already suffered imprisonment. Both dai-mios, in inviting Sakuma to make his home within their borders had it in mind, beyond doubt, to protect him from the dangers that were fast accumulating above his head, and had he been willing to become the protege of either he would have been comparatively safe, for they were all-powerful within their own fiefs, and might have secured for him perfect freedom for the elaboration of his plans of reform. But for reasons with which the present age has little concern, and were they even fully comprehended might scarcely, perhaps, be appreciated, Sakuma respectfully declined the flattering offers thus made to him and clung to his home in Yedo to the last.

Japan was now on the verge of experiencing a crisis in her affairs which threatened to end in one of those sanguinary internecine struggles for supremacy between rival factions to which in her long and exceedingly diversified history, not only under the Tokugawa dynasty but for centuries antecedent thereto, she had been no stranger.

In the third year of the Bunkio era, which was that corresponding to A.D. 1863, Sakuma was invited to visit Kioto, then the centre of learning, as indeed it had ever been, and the city in which dwelt the absolute monarch of Japan, the Ten-shi himself, but again he rejected all overtures to change permanently his place of abode. The following year the title of the era was altered to Genji, so often from one cause and another was it desirable at that period to change these era names. Once more Sakuma was urged to go south, and this time he consented to make the journey to the ancient capital, arriving there in the spring of 1864. It was at that epoch that the latent animosity to foreigners, begotten of racial prejudice and ill report combined, reached its height, and attacks on strangers were not at all infrequent, both in the capital and the provinces. “Loyalty to our Emperor, and expulsion of foreigners” was the cry that animated the masses of the people, who were totally incapable, no doubt, of judging for themselves, and were urged to deeds of violence by the specious arguments of skilled agitators, unable to form any conception of the ignominy that a policy of deliberate persecution was certain to entail for their country. Kioto became infested with men of the “ro-nin” class, outlaws by choice, having obtained from their feudal lords permission to detach themselves from their masters’ service and to become free-lances prepared to undertake deeds of violence for which the barons to whom they ordinarily owed allegiance should not be held responsible to the State. It mattered little whether the “ro-nin” had been dismissed from his lord’s employ for some personal shortcoming or had sought temporary or permanent leave of absence. His lord was no longer liable for what might occur. And it was not in Kioto alone that these men had assembled, for Yedo was almost equally in favour with them as a convenient lurking-place, and the persons and property of foreigners were often assailed, to the extent that life became most insecure. Within a brief space of time a whole series of assassinations took place, including the killing of Mr Richardson on the Tokaido seven miles from Yokohama the slaughter of Dankichi, an interpreter to the American Embassy, of Mr Heusken, attached to the British Embassy in a similar capacity, and of several others. The chapter is so painful a one in Japanese history, and Japan so long ago repented in sackcloth and ashes for the crimes of which her people were then guilty, that it is needless to offer, and would perhaps be ungenerous in an English-reading public to demand, a detailed account to-day of these deplorable occurrences. Suffice it to say that Sakuma himself, for the ostensible reason that he firmly adhered to his opinion,—despite the opposition of a numerous and powerful body of his fellow-countrymen who advocated the abrogation of the treaties and the return to a policy of complete isolation,—that the other ports designated as the emporiums of general foreign trade should be forthwith opened, as well as Yokohama, incurred the censure of the anti-foreign clique and was stabbed to death by “ro-nins” on the 11th of July 1864, he being then in the fifty-fourth year of his age.

Of the character of Sakuma Shozan it is impossible to write in terms of too high praise. By his countrymen he is universally esteemed a martyr to the sacred cause of enlightened progress. He was unselfish in the extreme, ever willing to aid others with his learning, a man of lofty ideals, of unrivalled ability to forecast the future and prepare himself, as he strove to prepare others, for its inevitable changes and transformations. His was patriotism of the purest type, for he had everything to lose and absolutely naught to gain by seeking to popularise in Japan the institutions of the West. He was in advance of his age, and shared the fate of many a reformer in other lands. He realised, at a time when it was fatal to entertain views so heretical, that the days of Japan’s complete liberty to choose a course for herself had passed, and that she would be driven to consort with the other nations of the earth if she would avoid the fate which was seen to have overtaken some other Asiatic peoples and potentates. He suffered for his boldness in criticising the then existing order of things, and a perusal of his later poems will serve to indicate the extent to which he was willing that the nation should go forward in its adoption of Western ideas and appliances, for they are eminently inspiring and resolute in tone, encouraging in every line the pursuit of knowledge with the single purpose of providing for the national defence and the retention of the independence of the land for which he prophesied the most brilliant future. Sakuma was the great forerunner of that distinguished band of patriots who, in some cases at the sacrifice of their lives, and always by the whole-souled devotion of their best energies, helped to make Modern Japan.

V
YOSHIDA TORAJIRO (otherwise SHO-IN)

During the reign of the Emperor Nin-ko, in the first year of the Tempo era, which corresponded to A.D. 1830, there was born in Cho-shiu province, south-west Niphon, Yoshida Torajiro, the son of samurai parents, who were retainers of the dai-mio Mori, the lord of the fief. Yoshida’s birthplace was the little village of Matsushita (Under the pines), close to the town of Hagi, on the west coast of Niphon, facing the peninsula of Korea. From his earliest years Yoshida was an ardent student of Chinese literature, and exhibited an extreme cleverness as a child that won for him uncommon fame in the district. So proficient had he become in this department of study that at the age of eleven he was called on to lecture on a topic of military history in the presence of his feudal chieftain, the dai-mio Mori Kei-shin, and his erudition was the source of the utmost astonishment to his hearers. When he was nineteen he set out on a tour through the island of Kiu-shiu, his main object being to make the acquaintance of those prominent men in the south of Japan who just then had raised the cry of “loyalty to the Emperor, expulsion of all foreigners.” This sentiment, it will be observed, did not have its origin in the later fifties, as might have been supposed from the frequency with which it was then heard, after Perry’s visits had led to the conclusion of treaties of peace and amity, but was prevalent as far back as the year 1849, when the only aliens in the country were a few Dutchmen at Nagasaki. The feeling at that time was perhaps only local, for it was to the vicinity of that port that Yoshida wended his way in the evident belief that he would there meet with those who most strongly entertained this opinion of the proper course to be taken with the intruders. No doubt his youthful impressions had been stimulated by the reading of the Nihon Gaishi, a work on Japanese history, written by Rai Sanyo, that at that period was intensely popular. His father’s influence, moreover, was all in the same direction, and the circumstances all point to Yoshida’s having imbibed principles that were distinctly adverse to the retention of foreigners in the country under any conditions whatever. Precisely what effect his travels in Kiushiu had on his mind can never be known, but it may be assumed with tolerable safety that he journeyed to Nagasaki and there saw the Dutchmen dwelling in their own fashion in the quaint little settlement of Deshima, where they were all but prisoners, though allowed to carry on their trade.

In the meantime the Emperor Ko-mei, father of the reigning monarch, had succeeded Ninko on the throne, and the era bore the title of Ka-ei. It lasted until 1854, and it was when it was in its fourth year that Yoshida went to Yedo and there met, as described in a previous chapter, with Sakuma Shozan, whose pupil he became. At this time Sakuma was forty years old, and Yoshida was twenty-two. From their first meeting Yoshida recognised in the elder man a greatness of intellect and grandeur of aim that fascinated him, and led him there and then to appreciate the opportunity afforded him of becoming Sakuma’s disciple. More especially was he convinced of the soundness of Sakuma’s views on the importance of coast defence, and at his suggestion undertook a journey into the provinces of Sagami and Awa, with the express object of searching out the most suitable positions, from a strategical point of view, for the defence of Yedo Bay. It will be perceived, as constituting a matter of no trifling interest, that the defence of the coast was under anxious consideration two years at least prior to the arrival off Uraga of Commodore Perry and his squadron of “black ships,” so that it cannot be said that these measures were proposed as a direct consequence of the American expedition’s advent in Japanese waters. After visiting Awa and Sagami Yoshida went north to the Tsugaru Straits and Hakodate, having the same purpose ever before him, the strengthening of his country’s defences against the intrusion of foreign powers.

In 1853, the year of Perry’s arrival, Yoshida was again in Yedo, but in September of that year he went once more to Nagasaki. His secret purpose was then to embark for Europe in a Russian cruiser, but by the time he reached the port named the vessel had sailed, so that his hopes were entirely frustrated. Sakuma had recommended him to make his way to Europe, if possible, because, as he said, if Yoshida desired to form an adequate idea of the most efficient means of providing for the security of the Japanese coasts it was first requisite that he should fully comprehend the conditions under which the protection of their own coasts was successfully undertaken by foreign nations. It was on this advice that he sought by every means at his command to obtain a passage to some foreign land, and in the following year, when the American warships again visited Uraga, Yoshida made his next attempt, in company with a faithful servant who very possibly hoped also to get away to a land where there would be no restrictions on their movements, and entire liberty of thought could be secured. It is a matter for regret that his ambitions in this regard were once more frustrated, for in Yoshida there can be no doubt that Japan had a truly patriotic son, one who, had the opportunity been afforded him, would have achieved distinct success in the direction which he had marked out for himself, the preservation of Japan for the Japanese. In Yoshida’s case, as in all others with which I am acquainted, the innate patriotism that he had inherited had been aroused and stimulated by the experiences that the neighbouring Chinese Empire had undergone. In common with other people in the Far East, he had heard of the occupation of Canton, and of Chusan, of the expedition up the Yang-tsu-kiang, and of the forcible opening to foreign commerce of the ports of Ningpo, Amoy, and Shanghai. Such doings were of dire portent for the dwellers in Dai Niphon, for if the Chinese, who for so many centuries had in the arts and sciences led Japan, found themselves reduced to the necessity of conforming to the will of the Western invaders, by reason of a laxity in preparation for national defence, how much more incumbent must it be upon the Japanese, with only their islands to call their own, and no hinterland to retire into, strenuously to make ready for eventualities. Yoshida’s request for a passage to the United States was refused,—Commodore Perry mentions him as Isagi Kooda,—and he was imprisoned for having attempted to quit Japan at a time when emigration was forbidden.

In the following year Yoshida was confined to his own house at Matsushima, in the province of Cho-shiu, but a year later, in the third of the An-sei era, the discipline was so far relaxed as to admit of his taking pupils for the study of military books. It was probably at this period that he wrote to a Court noble, by name Ohara Shigetami, who held very similar views on the subject of the foreigners’ invasion, begging him to visit Cho-shiu for the purpose of starting an agitation there in favour of the “expulsion of barbarians and the restoration of the Ten-shi to supreme control,” that twofold object on which a majority of the patriots of the age laid stress in the belief that its attainment was wholly indispensable to the welfare of the nation. In truth Yoshida’s teaching of military subjects was little more than a cover for the inoculation of his pupils with the principles of a most resolute antagonism to the Bakufu—i.e. the system of government by the Tokugawa line of Sho-guns, a plan of vicarious rule in which he could discern nothing for his country but disaster. A school was at this time opened in the village of Matsushima by two uncles of Yoshida Sho-in, named Kubo and Tamaki, and after a while Yoshida succeeded them in the management thereof; it deserves more than a passing reference, for it was destined to be the cradle, as it were, of the revolution of 1868, by which the present Emperor was led to abandon the life of utter seclusion that it had for centuries been customary for the occupants of the Japanese throne to lead, and to take upon himself the actual rule of his dominions. Among those who attended this school were not a few to whom fell the lot of fighting, a short time afterwards, at Fushimi, in the tremendous contest for supremacy which took place between the adherents of the Sho-gun and those who sided with Choshiu and Satsuma.