Читать книгу The Making of Modern Japan - John Harington Gubbins - Страница 8

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Much space has been given in the preceding chapter to the Tokugawa period of administration. For this no apology is due to the reader. The period in question, held in grateful remembrance by the nation as the Era of Great Peace, is the most important in Japanese history. This importance it owes to its long duration; to the singular character of its government—a centralized and autocratic bureaucracy flavoured with feudalism; to the progress which took place in literature, art and industry; to its being the immediate predecessor of what is known as the Meiji Era—the reign of the late Emperor, which began in 1868; and, consequently, to the fact that the Japanese people, as we see them to-day, are the product of that period more than of any other. Before leaving the subject, therefore, it may perhaps be convenient to explain very briefly what kind of feudal system it was which formed, as it were, the basis of Tokugawa government, for one feature of it still survives.

In his History of the Civilization of Europe, Guizot puts forward on behalf of feudalism the claim that it constitutes an essential stage in the evolution of nations. It certainly played a very noticeable part in the development of Japan, lasting as it did from the close of the twelfth century down to the middle of the nineteenth, a period of more than seven hundred years. The French author and statesman in question, however, might have been surprised had he known that one feature of Japanese feudalism would survive its abolition, and that feature one not known on the continent of Europe.

Though in its general character Japanese feudalism resembled the feudal systems prevailing at various times in the continental countries of Europe, in one respect—the position of the population inhabiting the fiefs—it came closer to the clan type of Scottish feudalism; with this important distinction, however, that, whereas the Scottish clan was a family, or tribal, organization, the basis of the Japanese clan was purely territorial, the clansmen being held together by no family link. The Japanese word Han (borrowed from China), the usual English rendering of which is “clan,” does not, in its feudal sense, refer to the territory included in a fief, but to the people inhabiting it. In unsettled times, which were the rule and not the exception before the middle of the sixteenth century, the map of feudal Japan was constantly changing. The area of a fief expanded, or contracted, according to the military fortunes of the daimiō concerned; and at times both fief and feudal owner disappeared altogether. Nor in the alterations thus occurring from time to time in the feudal map was any consideration paid to natural boundaries. A daimiō’s fief, or, in other words, the territories of a clan, might consist of the whole or only part of a province, of portions of two or three provinces, or even of several whole provinces, as in the case of the founder of the Tokugawa line of Shōguns, and, at one time, of Mōri, “the lord of ten provinces.” In earlier days the word “clan” (Han) was not much used, the personality of the daimiō of the fief being the chief consideration. As conditions became more settled, however, under the peaceful sway of the Tokugawa Shōguns, the boundaries of fiefs became more fixed and permanent. As a result, too, of these unwarlike conditions, and of the spread to feudal circles of the corrupt and effeminate atmosphere of the Imperial Court, the personality of a daimiō counted for less, while the term “clan” gradually came to be more commonly employed to express the idea of a distinct feudal community, united solely by territorial associations. These acted as provincial ties do everywhere, but where feudal and provincial boundaries were the same, the tie uniting the population of a fief was naturally stronger than elsewhere. Some idea of what the clan really was in Japan is necessary in order to understand how it was that clan spirit should have survived when feudalism died, and how it is that Japan to-day, more than half a century after its abolition, should be ruled by what the Japanese themselves speak of as a clan government (Hambatsu Séifu).

We now come to a new chapter in the history of Japan—the reopening of the country to foreign intercourse. At the close of the drama which ended in the expulsion, or death, of all missionaries and their converts the Dutch and Chinese were, as we have seen, the only foreigners allowed to trade with Japan, the reason being that neither, so far as the Japanese could judge, had any connection with Christianity, or missionaries. This was about the middle of the seventeenth century. Things remained in this state until the beginning of the nineteenth, by which time the commerce carried on by the traders of the two favoured nationalities had dwindled to very small proportions. During the last fifty years of this trade changes full of meaning for Japan, for the continent of Asia and for the world at large were taking place. Russia was extending her sphere of activity in Siberia, and threatening to become an intrusive neighbour in Saghalin and the Kuriles. American whalers had discovered a profitable field of enterprise in the Sea of Okhotsk, while, further south, landing parties from these vessels were making use of the Bonin islands to obtain water and fresh provisions. The development of America’s seaboard on the Pacific had led to the opening of a new trade route with the mainland of Asia, for which the Japanese islands offered convenient ports of call. And, finally, the governments of Great Britain and France were busily engaged in demolishing the barriers of conservative prejudice behind which China had for so long entrenched herself. These changes, due partly to the introduction of steam navigation, caused a sudden and rapidly growing increase in the visits of foreign vessels to Japan. The trend of affairs was perceived by the Dutch, who warned the Japanese authorities that the moment was approaching when the policy of isolation could no longer be pursued without danger to the country. It needed little to arouse Japanese apprehensions. A system of coast defence was at once organized. The Bay of Yedo, and its vicinity, the inland sea, and the harbours in Kiūshiū, including the immediate neighbourhood of Nagasaki, were places to which special attention was given. It is clear from the experience of foreign ships which accident or enterprise carried into Japanese waters, from the detailed instructions issued periodically from Yedo, and from the reports of movements of foreign vessels received by the authorities, that there was no lack of vigilance in the working of the system. Yet it was singularly ineffective; a result, under the circumstances, not surprising, since the policy of the Yedo Government varied according to the degree of apprehension existing at the moment in official circles, and there was a general desire to evade responsibility.

Three reasons inspired these visits of foreign vessels: the need of provisions, looking for shipwrecked crews, or repatriating shipwrecked Japanese, and a desire to engage in trade, or to establish friendly relations which would lead to that result. In no case was the reception accorded encouraging, though a clear discrimination was exercised between merchant vessels and warships. To the former scant mercy was shown; but warships were treated with more respect. They were towed into and out of harbour free of charge, and were supplied with provisions for which no money was accepted.

America was the country most interested at that time in the opening of Japan to foreign intercourse on account of the operations of her whalers in the Pacific and her trade route to China. The United States Government, therefore, decided to take the initiative in endeavouring to put an end to the Japanese policy of isolation. Accordingly, in the year 1845, Commodore Biddle arrived in Yedo with two men-of-war for the purpose of establishing trade relations between the two countries. He failed, however, to induce the Japanese Government to enter into any negotiations on the subject. Seven years later the matter was again taken up by the Government at Washington, Commodore Perry receiving orders to proceed to Japan on a mission to arrange for the more humane treatment of American sailors shipwrecked on the coasts of Japan; to obtain the opening of one or more harbours as ports of call for American vessels and the establishment of a coal depôt; and to secure permission for trade at such ports as might be opened. No secrecy surrounded the intentions of the United States. They were known in Europe as well as in America, as Macfarlane, writing in 1852, mentions, and the Dutch promptly told the Japanese.

On July 8th, 1853, Perry arrived in the harbour of Uraga, a small cove in the Bay of Yedo, some thirty miles from the present capital. His instructions were to obtain the facilities desired by persuasion, if possible, but, if necessary, by force. He succeeded after some difficulty in prevailing upon the Japanese authorities to receive the President’s letter at a formal interview on shore. At the same time he presented a letter from himself demanding more humane treatment for shipwrecked sailors, and pointed out the folly of persistence in the policy of seclusion. He would return next spring, he added, with more ships to receive the answer to the President’s letter.

With Perry’s arrival the Shōgun figures under a new title, that of Tycoon (Taikun), or Great Lord, a term first used in correspondence with Korea in order to conceal the fact that the Shōgun was not the sovereign of Japan. This was the word chosen to designate the Shōgun in the earlier treaties concluded with foreign Powers, and is the name by which he was commonly known to foreigners until the Restoration put an end to the government he represented.

On Perry’s return in the following year, 1854, he insisted on anchoring further up the Bay of Yedo, off what was then the post town and afterwards the open port of Kanagawa. It was at a village close to this spot, now known as the town of Yokohama, that on the 31st March he signed the Treaty opening the ports of Shimoda (in Cape Idzu) and Hakodaté (in Yezo) to American vessels—the former at once, the latter at the end of a year. This Treaty, which was ratified in the following year, was the first step in the reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse.

Perry’s Treaty was succeeded by similar arrangements with other Powers—with the British in October of the same year (1854), and in the year following with the Russians and Dutch.

The Dutch benefited greatly by the new direction given to foreign relations. By the provisional arrangement made in 1855 most of the humiliating restrictions accompanying the privilege of trade were removed; and two years later they were allowed “to practise their own or the Christian religion,” a provision which seems to suggest that the Japanese idea as to their not being Christians was inspired by the Dutch. The orders, moreover, with regard to trampling on Christian emblems were also at the same time rescinded. There was still some difference between their position and that of other foreigners. This, however, only lasted a year or two. With the operation of the later more elaborate treaties the nation which had prided itself on its exclusive trading privileges with Japan was glad to come in on the same footing as other Western Powers.

None of the arrangements above described were regular commercial treaties. The first, concluded with America, was simply an agreement for the granting of certain limited facilities for navigation and trade, the latter being a secondary consideration. The object of the British Treaty, made by Admiral Stirling during the Crimean war, was to assist operations against Russia in Siberian waters. The Russians, for their part, merely wished for political reasons to gain a footing in Japan; while the Dutch were chiefly anxious to escape from the undignified position they occupied.

It was not until 1858 that regular commercial treaties were concluded. Perry’s Treaty had stipulated for the appointment of an American Consul-General to reside at Shimoda. Mr. Townsend Harris was selected for the post. His arrival was unwelcome to the Japanese, who had not expected the enforcement of the stipulation. They accordingly boycotted him. He could get no trustworthy information. If he asked for anything, it was withheld as being “contrary to the honourable country’s law”; and his letters were not answered because “it was not customary to reply to the letters of foreigners.” Harris, nevertheless, persevered in spite of Japanese obstruction with his task of developing American relations with Japan. In June, 1857, he was able to report the signature of a convention which extended considerably the facilities conceded to Perry; in the autumn of the same year he was received in audience by the Shōgun as the first duly accredited representative of a Western Power; by the following February negotiations for the new Treaty were practically completed; and in July of that year (1858) the Treaty was signed in Yedo Bay on board an American man-of-war.

The delay of five months was caused by the Shōgunate’s decision to refer the Treaty before signature to Kiōto for the approval of the Throne. This reference was not necessary. The right of the Shōgun to act independently in such matters had been recorded in the “Hundred Articles,” and long custom had confirmed the rule thus recorded. But in the embarrassment and trepidation caused by Perry’s unexpected visit, and still less expected demands, the Shōgunate had departed from this rule, and revived the obsolete formality of Imperial sanction, extending at the same time its application. The Court refused its consent to the proposed Treaty, but in spite of this refusal the Japanese negotiators signed it; the Shōgun’s ministers being influenced by the news of the termination of the war in China, and the impending arrival of British and French ambassadors, as well as by the representations of the American negotiator.

Treaties with Great Britain, with Holland, with Russia, and with France followed in rapid succession, the first three being signed in August, the last-named in October. All four reproduced more or less closely the substance of the American convention. The choice of open ports in Perry’s Treaty—due to solicitude for American whalers, and considerations connected with America’s new trade route to China—had in the interests of general commerce been unfortunate. This defect was remedied in the new treaties by provisions for the opening of additional ports. A tariff and a system of tonnage dues were also established. In other respects the new treaties merely confirmed, or amplified, the provisions of earlier arrangements. They were useful, however, as the forerunners of a whole series of practically uniform agreements, which simplified Japan’s position, while enlarging the scope of foreign relations. One of the last to be concluded was the Austro-Hungarian Treaty of 1869, the English version of which was made the “original,” or authoritative, text. By virtue of the most-favoured-nation clause, which figured in all these conventions, it was this instrument which governed the relations of Japan with Treaty Powers, until the new revised treaties came into force in 1899. When the Japanese people became aware that the character of these treaties was different from those made by Western governments with each other, an early opportunity was taken to protest against the provisions conceding ex-territoriality and fixing a low customs tariff, and against the obstacle to revision presented by the absence in the agreements of any fixed period of duration. The irritation thus caused led later on to an agitation for treaty revision, which did much to embitter Japanese feeling towards foreigners. The complaint was not unnatural, but in making it there was a tendency to overlook the fact that the position of foreigners in Japan under these treaties was also very different from their position under other treaties elsewhere. The residential and commercial rights of the foreigner in Japan applied only to the “open ports,” while his right of travel, except by special permission, not readily granted, did not extend beyond a narrow area at the same ports known as “treaty limits.” The rest of the country remained closed. This limitation of facilities for commercial intercourse was, moreover, accentuated by the fact that the choice of “open” or “treaty ports” was not, as has been pointed out, the best that could have been made. Compelled against their will to consent to foreign intercourse, it was only to be expected that the Japanese should seek to render the concession worthless by selecting harbours neither suitable nor safe for shipping, and places far from markets, and that a similar spirit should dictate the choice of sites for foreign settlements. That the early negotiators who represented Japan were handicapped by ignorance of the principles regulating international relations is undeniable. But the injustice, as they considered it, of the conditions against which protest was made was really a blessing in disguise; for, on the admission of the Japanese themselves, it served as a powerful stimulus to progress on the lines of Western civilization.

In the course of five years from the date of Perry’s Treaty no less than thirteen elaborate agreements, besides other arrangements of a less formal character, had been concluded by Japan. So rapid an extension of foreign intercourse might seem to point to a subsidence of anti-foreign feeling, and a decrease of opposition to the establishment of friendly relations with foreign countries. Such, however, was not the case. The negotiations of these various covenants were carried on in the face of growing anti-foreign clamour, and in the midst of political confusion and agitation,—the precursors of a movement which was to end in the collapse of Tokugawa government.

In order that the subsequent course of events may be understood, some reference, however brief, to the political situation which existed at this time is necessary. It will be seen what complications—quite apart from the embarrassments arising out of the reopening of foreign intercourse—were caused by the inconsequence and ambition of the Court, the weakness of the Shōgunate, and the jealousies of rival statesmen. Some idea may also thus be formed of the ignorance of foreign matters which then prevailed, except in a few official quarters, and of the clumsy timidity of a policy which consisted chiefly of shutting the eyes to facts patent to everyone.

Ever since the establishment of Tokugawa rule there had been a party at the Kiōto Court, consisting of Court nobles, which championed the pretensions of the Throne, mourned over its lost glories, conducted its intrigues, and felt a common resentment against what in its eyes was an administration of usurpers. The fatal mistake of the Shōgunate in referring to Kiōto Perry’s demands for the reopening of foreign intercourse on new and strange conditions—a matter which, in accordance with established precedent, was within its own competency—gave an opportunity to this party to revive the long obsolete pretensions of the Court. The opportunity was at once seized. The party had at this time powerful adherents. Amongst them the chief figure was the ex-Prince of Mito. Early in the previous century his grandfather, the second of his line, had founded a school of literature and politics, which espoused the Imperial cause, and encouraged the native religion and language in opposition to what was borrowed from China,—a profession of principles which sat curiously on a leading member of the Tokugawa House. Holding the same views himself, the ex-Prince had been forced to abdicate some years before in favour of his eldest son for having destroyed the Buddhist temples in his fief, and made their bells into cannon, for the alleged purpose of repelling a foreign invasion. With the ex-Prince were ranged the Tokugawa Prince of Owari and the influential daimiōs of Chōshiū, Échizen, Tosa and Uwajima, whilst a large measure of sympathy with Imperial aims existed among the prominent clans of the south and west. The anti-Shōgunate movement also derived help from the turbulent class of clanless samurai, known as rōnin, which at this time was rapidly increasing in numbers owing to economic distress in feudal territories, and the growing weakness of the Shōgunate. The latter’s supporters, on the other hand, were mostly to be found in the centre, the north and the east, all of which were old Tokugawa strongholds. Its chief strength, however, lay in its being beatus possidens,—having, that is to say, the command of State resources, and being in a position to speak for the Throne; and in the fact that Tokugawa government, by its long duration and the completeness of its bureaucratic organization, had taken so firm a hold of the country, that whatever sympathy might possibly be evoked on behalf of revived Imperial pretensions might not unreasonably be expected to fall short of material support.

One other advantage the Shōgunate possessed was the presence in the Government of a minister of distinguished ancestry, and of great ability and courage, combined with, what was rare in those days, independence of character. This was the famous Ïi Kamon no Kami, generally known as the Tairō, or Regent, whose castle-town, Hikoné, near Kiōto, overlooked Lake Biwa. The early associations of his family made him a staunch upholder of Tokugawa rule. He quickly became the leading spirit of the Ministry, and the liberal views he apparently held on the subject of treaty-making and foreign intercourse brought him at once into collision with the boldest and most uncompromising member of the Court party—the ex-Prince of Mito. The disagreement between them first showed itself in the advice called for by the Throne from the Council of State and the leading feudal nobles on the question of the signature of the American Treaty of 1858. In the controversy which arose on this point they figured as the chief protagonists. The policy of the Court in 1853 had been non-committal. In 1855 it had formally approved of the treaties, the Shōgun’s resident at Kiōto reporting that “the Imperial mind was now at ease.” Nevertheless, in spite of this approval, and notwithstanding the signature of fresh treaties, the crusade of the Court party against foreign intercourse went on unabated. On the present occasion the ex-Prince of Mito argued strongly against the Treaty, while the Council of State, adopting the views of Ïi Kamon no Kami, who was not yet Regent, recommended the signature of the Treaty as being the proper course to follow. But the question which provoked the keenest rivalry and the bitterest antagonism between the two statesmen concerned the succession to the Shōgunate.

The Shōgun Iyésada, appointed in 1853, was childless, and, in accordance with custom in such cases, it was incumbent on him to choose and adopt a successor. The ex-Prince of Mito wished the choice to fall on one of his younger sons, Kéiki, then fifteen years of age, who having been adopted into the Hitotsubashi family, was eligible for the appointment. But the new Shōgun was only twenty-nine, and in no hurry to choose a successor from another family. His relations, moreover, with the ex-Prince of Mito were not cordial; and there were other objections. If he were constrained to adopt a successor, his own choice would, it was known, fall on a nearer kinsman, the young Prince of Kishiū, a boy of ten. The heir preferred by the Shōgun was also the choice of Ïi. The parties supporting the rival candidates were not unequally matched. Though the weight of clan influence was on the side of Kéiki, fated a few years later to be the last of the Tokugawa Shōguns, a section of the Court nobles joined with the Council of State in favouring the candidature of the young Kishiū prince, behind whom stood also the Shōgun.

The two questions in dispute were thus quite distinct, the one being a matter of foreign, the other of domestic policy. But the two protagonists in each being the same, it looked as if the side that was successful in one issue would gain the day in both. And this in fact is what happened. In June, 1858, in the interval between the second and third missions to Kiōto in connection with the signature of the American Treaty, Ïi became Regent—an appointment tenable in times of emergency as well as during a Shōgun’s minority. The end of the conflict, which had lasted nearly five years, was then in sight. In July, as already stated, the American Treaty was signed. Before another week had elapsed the young Kishiū prince was proclaimed heir to the Shōgunate. Ten days later the Shōgun Iyésada died.