A learned Chinese scholar was sent by the shogun to Uraga, who acted as an official and eminent interpreter in an interview with the American envoy. Continued councils were called by the shogun, not only of his chief officers but of the daimios, the nobles, and the retired nobles of Yeddo. The citizens of Yeddo and the surrounding villages were in great tumult, fearing that there would be a war, for which the country was totally unprepared. Meanwhile the envoy was impatiently demanding an answer. At last, after eight days, the patience and the impatience, combined with the demonstrations made by the vessels of the fleet, which were highly impressive to the Japanese who had never seen a steamboat, won success for Commodore Perry’s message. A high Japanese commissioner came to Uraga, prepared a magnificent pavilion for the ceremonies, and announced himself ready to receive the letter to the emperor. With great pomp and ceremony the Americans landed and in this pavilion with proper formalities, delivered the letter and presents from the president. Then having, for the first time in history, gained several important points of etiquette in a country where etiquette was more than law or morals, the splendid diplomat and warrior Perry sailed away with his fleet July 17, 1853.
It was in response to a temporizing policy on the part of Japan, and to the good judgment and careful decision of Commodore Perry, that the fleet sailed away without demanding an immediate reply to his letter. The American envoy was informed that in a matter of so much importance a decision could not be at once reached, and that if he now left, he would on his return get a definite answer. No wonder there was commotion. The nineteenth century had come suddenly into contact with the fourteenth. The spirit of commerce and the spirit of feudalism, two great but conflicting forces, met in their full development, and the result was necessarily a convulsion. We are hardly surprised to hear that the shogun died before Commodore Perry’s return, or that during the next few years the land was harassed by earthquakes and pestilences.
Perry’s second appearance was in February, 1854, this time with a much larger fleet. A hot debate took place in the shogun’s council as to the answer that should be given. The old daimio of Mito, the head of one of the three families, which, forming the Tokugawa clan, furnished the occupants of the shogunate, wanted to fight and settle the question once for all. “At first,” he said, “they will give us philosophical instruments, machinery and other curiosities; will take ignorant people in; and trade being their chief object they will manage to impoverish the country, after which they will treat us just as they like, perhaps behave with the greatest rudeness and insult us, and end by swallowing up Japan. If we do not drive them away now we shall never have another opportunity.”
Others gave contrary advice, saying, “If we try to drive them away they will immediately commence hostilities, and then we shall be obliged to fight. If we once get into a dispute we shall have an enemy to fight who will not be easily disposed of. He does not care how long he will have to spend over it, but he will come with myriads of men-of-war and surround our shores completely; however large a number of ships we might destroy, he is so accustomed to that sort of thing that he would not care in the least. In time the country would be put to an immense expense and the people plunged into misery. Rather than allow this, as we are not the equals of foreigners in the mechanical arts, let us have intercourse with foreign countries, learn their drill and tactics, and when we have made the nation as united as one family, we shall be able to go abroad and give lands in foreign countries to those who have distinguished themselves in battle.”
The latter view carried and a treaty with the United States was signed on the thirty-first of March, 1854. Now be it observed that the shogun did this without the sanction of the mikado, whom indeed he had never yet consulted on the matter, and that he subscribed himself Tai Kun, (“Tycoon,”) or great ruler, a title to which he had no right and which if it meant anything at all involved an assumption of the authority of supreme ruler in the empire. This was the view naturally taken by Perry and by the ambassadors from European countries who a few years later obtained treaties with Japan. They were under the impression that they were dealing with the emperor; and hearing of the existence of another potentate living in an inland city, surrounded with a halo of national veneration, they conceived the plausible but erroneous theory that the tycoon was the temporal sovereign, and this mysterious mikado the spiritual sovereign of the country. They little dreamed that the so-called tycoon was no sovereign at all, and that consequently the treaties which he signed had no legal validity.
The shogun could ill afford thus to lay himself open to the charge of treason. From the first there had been a certain class of daimios who had never heartily submitted to the Tokugawa administration. The principal clans which thus submitted to the regime under protest against what they considered a usurpation, an encroachment on the authority of the mikado, whom alone they recognized as the divinely appointed ruler of Japan, were those of Satsuma, Choshiu, and Tosa. As the years of peace cast their spell over the nation, making the people forgetful of war and transforming the descendants of Iyeyasu into luxurious idlers, much more like impotent mikados than successors of the energetic soldier and law-giver, their hopes more and more arose that an opportunity would be given them to overthrow the shogunate and bring about the unification of the empire at the hands of the mikado. Their time had now come. The shogun was enervated and he had so far forgotten himself as to open the country to foreign trade, without the sanction of the “Son of Heaven.” It was this illegal act of the shogun that precipitated the confusion, violence and disaster of the next few years, reaching ultimately in 1868 to the complete overthrow of his own power and the restoration of the mikado to his rightful position as actual as well as nominal ruler of the empire.
Fearing the consequences of the illegal act into which he had been driven, the shogun lost no time in sending messengers to Kioto to inform the mikado of what had happened and seek his sanction to the policy adopted. It was plead in excuse for the course of conduct, that affairs had reached such a condition that the shogun was driven to sign the treaty. The emperor in great agitation summoned a council. The decision was unanimous against the shogun’s action, and the messengers were informed that no sanction could be given to the treaty. The next important step was not taken until July, 1858, when Lord Elgin arrived with propositions on the part of Great Britain for a treaty of amity and commerce. He was unaccompanied by any armed force, and brought a steam yacht as a present from Queen Victoria to the tycoon of Japan.
A few months later treaties were entered into with all the leading powers of Europe, but if there was a political lull between 1854 and 1858, the poor Japanese had distractions of a very different kind. From a violent earthquake and consequent conflagration, one hundred and four thousand of the inhabitants of Yeddo lost their lives. A terrific storm swept away one hundred thousand more, and in a visitation of cholera thirty thousand persons perished in Yeddo alone. Moreover, just when the treaties were being signed, the shogun Iyesada died, “as if,” says Sir R. Alcock, “a further victim was required for immolation on the altar of the outraged gods of Japan.”
The political tempest that had been gathering now swept over the nation. For the next ten years there was so much disorder, intrigue, and bloodshed, that Japan became among the western nations a byword for treachery and assassination. Defenseless foreigners were cut down in the streets of Yeddo and Yokohama and even in the legations. Twice was the British legation attacked, on one of the occasions being taken by storm and held for a time by a band of free-lances. No foreigner’s life was safe. Even when out on the most trivial errand, every foreign resident was accompanied by an armed escort furnished by the shogun’s government. It is needless to give an account of all the different assassinations, successful or attempted, which darkened the period. The secretary to the American legation was cut down near Shiba, Yeddo, when returning from the Prussian legation with an armed escort; a Japanese interpreter attached to the British legation was fatally stabbed in broad daylight while standing at the legation flagstaff; one of the guard at the same legation murdered two Englishmen in the garden and then committed suicide; an Englishman was cut down on the highway between Yokohama and Yeddo by certain retainers of the daimio of Satsuma, whose procession he had unwittingly crossed on horseback; and these were not all.
It is not a satisfactory answer to say that hatred of foreigners was the leading motive that inspired all these acts of violence. This was no doubt more or less involved, but the true explanation is to be found in the hostility of the mikado’s partisans to the shogun’s government. All possible means were taken to thwart the shogun and bring him into complications with the ambassadors at his court. Every attack on a foreigner brought fresh trouble upon the Yeddo government and hastened its collapse. Long before foreigners arrived, the seeds of revolution had sprouted and their growth was showing above the soil. It is to the state of political parties and of feudalism at this epoch in Japanese history, and not to mere ill will against foreigners, that this policy of intrigue and assassination must be ascribed.