Page:EB1911 - Volume 15.djvu/262

FOREIGN INTERCOURSE]

Foreign Intercourse in Modern Times.—From the middle of the 17th century to the beginning of the 19th, Japan succeeded in rigorously enforcing her policy of seclusion. But in the concluding days of this epoch two influences

began to disturb her self-sufficiency. One was the gradual infiltration of light from the outer world through the narrow window of the Dutch prison at Deshima; the other, frequent apparitions of Russian vessels on her northern coasts. The former was a slow process. It materialized first in the study of anatomy by a little group of youths who had acquired accidental knowledge of the radical difference between Dutch and Japanese conceptions as to the structure of the human body. The work of these students reads like a page of romance. Without any appreciable knowledge of the Dutch language, they set themselves to decipher a Dutch medical book, obtained at enormous cost, and from this small beginning they passed to a vague but firm conviction that their country had fallen far behind the material and intellectual progress of the Occident. They laboured in secret, for the study of foreign books was then a criminal offence; yet the patriotism of one of their number outweighed his prudence, and he boldly published a brochure advocating the construction of a navy and predicting a descent by the Russians on the northern borders of the empire. Before this prescient man had lain five months in prison, his foresight was verified by events. The Russians simulated at the outset a desire to establish commercial relations by peaceful means. Had the Japanese been better acquainted with the history of nations, they would have known how to interpret the idea of a Russian quest for commercial connexions in the Far East a hundred years ago. But they dealt with the question on its superficial merits, and, after imposing on the tsar’s envoys a wearisome delay of several months at Nagasaki, addressed to them a peremptory refusal together with an order to leave that port forthwith. Incensed by such treatment, and by the subsequent imprisonment of a number of their fellow countrymen who had landed on the island of Etorofu in the Kuriles, the Russians resorted to armed reprisals. The Japanese settlements in Sakhalin and Etorofu were raided and burned, other places were menaced and several Japanese vessels were destroyed. The lesson sank deep into the minds of the Yedo officials. They withdrew their veto against the study of foreign books, and they arrived in part at the reluctant conclusion that to offer armed opposition to the coming of foreign ships was a task somewhat beyond Japan’s capacity. Japan ceased, however, to attract European attention amid the absorbing interest of the Napoleonic era, and the shōgun’s government, misinterpreting this respite, reverted to their old policy of stalwart resistance to foreign intercourse.

Meanwhile another power was beginning to establish close contact with Japan. The whaling industry in Russian waters off the coast of Alaska and in the seas of China and Japan had attracted large investments of American capital

and was pursued yearly by thousands of American citizens. In one season 86 of these whaling vessels passed within easy sight of Japan’s northern island, Yezo, so that the aspect of foreign ships became quite familiar. From time to time American schooners were cast away on Japan’s shores. Generally the survivors were treated with tolerable consideration and ultimately sent to Deshima for shipment to Batavia. Japanese sailors, too, driven out of their route by hurricanes and caught in the stream of the “Black Current,” were occasionally carried to the Aleutian Islands, to Oregon or California, and in several instances these shipwrecked mariners were taken back to Japan with all kindness by American vessels. On such an errand of mercy the “Morrison” entered Yedo Bay in 1837, proceeding thence to Kagoshima, only to be driven away by cannon shot; and on such an errand the “Manhattan” in 1845 lay for four days at Uraga while her master (Mercater Cooper) collected books and charts. It would seem that his experience induced the Washington government to attempt the opening of Japan. A ninety-gun ship and a sloop were sent on the errand. They anchored off Uraga (July 1846) and Commodore Biddle made due application for trade. But he received a positive refusal, and having been instructed by his government to abstain from any act calculated to excite hostility or distrust, he quietly weighed anchor and sailed away.

In this same year (1846) a French ship touched at the Riukiu (Luchu) archipelago and sought to persuade the islanders that their only security against British aggression was to place themselves under the protection of France. In

fact Great Britain was now beginning to interest herself in south China, and more than one warning reached Yedo from Deshima that English war-ships might at any moment visit Japanese waters. The Dutch have been much blamed for thus attempting to prejudice Japan against the Occident, but if the dictates of commercial rivalry, as it was then practised, do not constitute an ample explanation, it should be remembered that England and Holland had recently been enemies, and that the last British vessel, seen at Nagasaki had gone there hoping to capture the annual Dutch trading-ship from Batavia. Deshima’s warnings, however, remained unfulfilled, though they doubtless contributed to Japan’s feeling of uneasiness. Then, in 1847, the king of Holland himself intervened. He sent to Yedo various books, together with a map of the world and a despatch advising Japan to abandon her policy of isolation. Within a few months (1849) of the receipt of his Dutch majesty’s recommendation, an American brig, the “Preble,” under Commander J. Glynn, anchored in Nagasaki harbour and threatened to bombard the town unless immediate delivery were made of 18 seamen who, having been wrecked in northern waters, were held by the Japanese preparatory to shipment for Batavia. In 1849 another despatch reached Yedo from the king of Holland announcing that an American fleet might be expected in Japanese waters a year later, and that, unless Japan agreed to enter into friendly commercial relations, war must ensue. Appended to this despatch was an approximate draft of the treaty which would be presented for signature, together with a copy of a memorandum addressed by the Washington government to European nations, justifying the contemplated expedition on the ground that it would inure to the advantage of Japan as well as to that of the Occident.

In 1853, Commodore Perry, with a squadron of four ships-of-war and 560 men, entered Uraga Bay. So formidable a foreign force had not been seen in Japanese waters since the coming of the Mongol Armada. A panic ensued among

the people—the same people who, in the days of Hideyoshi or Iyeyasu, would have gone out to encounter these ships with assured confidence of victory. The contrast did not stop there. The shōgun, whose ancestors had administered the country’s affairs with absolutely autocratic authority, now summoned a council of the feudatories to consider the situation; and the Imperial court in Kiōto, which never appealed for heaven’s aid except in a national emergency such as had never been witnessed since the creation of the shōgunate, now directed that at the seven principal shrines and at all the great temples special