Fujiki Hisashi, “The commoner’s battlefield: raising troops and capturing slaves during the medieval period”, Asahi Shimbun, Reprint 15 March 2007
 
(My reasons for choosing this particular book for translation are fairly straightforward. The subject matter expressed by Professor Fujiki is extremely interesting, given that it dealt with the lot of common soldiers (who were by and large peasants drafted into serving their local lord, with some exceptions) and the reality of living in a world where the threat of violence was never far away.  Another fascinating point is that it examines the practice of capturing and selling slaves, something that was highly prevalent during the era of the warring states in Japan but is not a subject examined in most popular media that depicts that period in Japan’s history.  Presumably the idea of Japanese selling other Japanese into slavery is abhorrent to modern Japanese sensibilities, yet the practice was common, and really only petered out once the country began to be subject to more stable, centralised rule from the early seventeenth century onwards.  
 
It’s this phenomena that Professor Fujiki illustrates in detail, in a manner accessible to most Japanese readers (itself a welcome development in a field that tends to be dominated by archaic discussions about the certain use of words in historical documents.  Of great interest to the academic, but of little to no consequence to the general reader).  By undertaking this translation, I hope that I might too be able to bring a bit more of this period of Japan’s history to the attention of a broader audience, and spark some curiosity among those for whom the era of the warring states (Sengoku Jidai) remains a mystery). (Note: the numbers at the end of paragraphs refer to pages of the original text). 
 
Prologue
 
“Plunder, before armies were nationalised, lay at the very heart of the formation of an army and its existence, with merchants serving as intermediaries”, Yamauchi Susumu, “A History of the Legal Concept of Plunder”
 
Fighting in order to eat
 
“We wage war in order to seize the wealth of the land, towns, and villages.  The campaigns that take place in Japan are mostly concerned with seizing wheat, rice and barley.”
 
This comparison of causus belliwas made by the Portuguese missionary Luis Frois (1532 – 1597), who bore witness to many battles that took place in Japan towards the end of the era of the warring states.  For Frois, the wars that took place in Europe during the Middle Ages occurred in order to expand territory, whereas in Japan they occurred in order that people might eat. (2) 
 
“War to expand territory” or “war in order to eat” – a comparison of both of these phenomena is undoubtedly fascinating, but it also presents problems. (3) At the same time that Frois was making these comments, Toyotomi Hideyoshi was calling for a halt to all private conflict throughout the island of Kyushu, using phrases such as “territorial border disputes between provincial rulers are to cease” and “I personally shall be the judge of any disagreements over the division of territory in Kyushu”.  In other words, Hideyoshi, who himself had stood at the centre of conflict during the era of the warring states, was a product of both the Japanese way of war and of the seizure of territory. (4)
 
However what I would like to pay particular attention to is the fact that from his arrival at Yokosenoura bay in Nagasaki in the seventh month of the sixth year of Eiroku (1563) until his death at Nagasaki in the fifth month of Keicho 2 (1597), Luis Frois spent over 30 years living both in Kyushu and in the Kinai area of Japan. His record of that time was written right in the middle of the era of the warring states, as a so-called “true depiction of war”.  The escalation in conflict that he witnessed was, to his mind, undoubtedly “war in order to eat” or “war in order to live”.  Hence I have taken this to mean that for Frois, “war in order to eat” and “war in order to live” involved a fight to the death. (4)
 
Frois said the following in relation to “war in order to eat” that he saw on a daily basis throughout Kyushu;
 
“The people captured in Bungo(province) by the army of Satsuma(Shimazu) were then taken to the province of Higo and sold off.  In that year, the residents of Higo suffered a terrible famine and much hardship, and so fell into a state where they were unable to fend for themselves. Since there was no way they would be able to care for the captives(from Bungo), they took them to ‘Takaku’(Takaki, located on the Shimabara peninsula) where the captives were sold off, much like they were selling off a family heirloom.” (4)
 
Frois then continued. The fate of those taken by the Shimazu army was that they either ended up as prisoners of war, died from the effects of war and illness, or wasted away from starvation. Both sides engaged in killing and plundering one another.  Those who had been taken as prisoners of war by the Shimazu army “after being taken back to Satsuma and Higo, led around to various markets like a herd of sheep, where they were sold.  Many of those taken were sold off for cheap prices of one or two “toston” (or bun, a small amount of money)”.  (5)
 
All 12 volumes of Frois’ “History of Japan” are replete with continuous conflict and the buying and selling of both people and goods seized through violence, all set against a backdrop of unremitting starvation. (5)  Frois’ opinion of war was very much founded on the raw experience and observations that he made of the battlefield, particularly those in Kyushu. (5)
 
This “true depiction of war” lay at the bottom of many of the more familiar, more colourful studies of warring state era armies and tales of battle. It speaks of the reality of fighting for the many foot soldiers (or ‘militia’) who faced starvation, and so fought either in order to live or in order to be able to eat. It also reverses many of the conceptions that we might have about warfare of that period.  Hence it is my intention here to overturn the depiction of war in the Sengoku era from one of “battles between heroes” to that of “battles between commoners”, and so depict the society of the era of the warring states from the ground up.  (5)
 
‘Militia/foot soldiers’ usually refers to “lowly ranked soldiers”.  The armies of warlords of the era of the warring states might have had one hundred soldiers in them, however only 10 or so of those soldiers might be mounted on horses.  The other 90 would be placed into one of three different categories. 1) Officially sanctioned warriors, who went by the name of kasemonoor wakatoor ashigaru– samurai, in other words, who fought together with their lord. 2) Those of lower rank, known as either chugenor komonoor arashiko, who acted as aides to their lord on the battlefield, handling horses or carrying their lord’s spear – in other words, genin(trans.note = literally “lower people”). 3) Those known as either buor bumaru, “peasants” in other words, who had been drafted in from villages to serve as porters, transporting goods etc.  (5)
 
Those wakatoand ashigaruincluded under item 1) were the main military force permitted to engage in fighting on the battlefield. Those included under item 2) and 3) were ostensibly excused from participating in the fighting because of their rank (or kenzen, the gap between samurai and those of lower ranks). However in the heat of battle, such distinctions were often ignored.  It is my intention to shed some light on these soldiers, which I refer to as zohyobut were otherwise known as wakatoor komonoor fujin, along with many other merchants, bandits, and pirates whose characteristics are unknown but who also appeared on the battlefield. (6)
 
It is particularly challenging to tell the story of the most commonly known battles from a different point of view to the ‘heroes’ of such tales, however my main purpose in writing “the commoner’s battlefield” is as follows;
 
I. A world in chaos
 
The annual records that Luis Frois wrote as part of his public duties for the Society of Jesus have proven useful to the study of Japan’s history, yet Frois himself was described by one of his superiors as “prone to boastfulness and idle gossip”.  This then beggars the question whether or not the “true depiction of war” that Frois wrote was based on fact?
 
First, let us take a look at the battlefields of the era of the warring states, to those conflicts that lasted over a century, starting with the battlefields of Kyushu that Frois himself witnessed. What actually took place in a “war in order to eat”? We must try to venture into the cruel centre of conflict to determine what is otherwise commonly referred to as “a world beset by chaos”. (6)
 
At the end of the Middle Ages period, following the peace imposed by Toyotomi Hideyoshi (and unification of the nation), the battlefields of Japan fell silent. Thereafter an army numbering some one hundred and fifty thousand arrived in force on the battlefields of the Korean peninsula. When examining “war in order to eat”, one must not ignore this state of affairs either.
 
When these invasion battlefields too finally fell silent, the final battles to determine the ruler of Japan were contested at Sekigahara and Osaka.  So what actually happened during such conflict? (6,7)
 
II. The common soldier
 
The commoners that served as soldiers on these battlefields played the main role in this “world of chaos”. So from where did they come?  The world of the era of the warring states was beset by poor harvests and famine.  For the commoner, try as he might to plow his fields yet still face starvation, the only option was to join a group of militia and head off to the battlefield. Once there, he might seize a little food, or property, or even a man or woman. With this meagre asset in hand, he might be able to survive the winter.   For common soldiers, the battlefield in the period between winter and the following summer, in which starvation was rampant, was the only miserable available means of support. (7)
 
Those left behind in the villages, say two or three other youths who couldn’t find enough to eat, would be joined by vagabonds, bandits, buccaneers and merchants. The chaos that battle spread – or rather the violence and plunder that accompanied it - appears to have occurred as a consequence of “war in order to eat”. (7)
 
III. The village battlefield – the village as a castle
 
On the other hand, in the wars that were part of the “world of chaos”, both villages and towns found conflict an important test of the extent to which they were willing to defend their property. The more traditional symbols of power in the regions, the castles of a lord or landowner, became evacuation centres for the people at some time in their history. Yet for villages located far from a castle, a mountain that they knew nearby might contain huts or a mountain castle that could serve as their own evacuation centre.   Villages located on the border between provinces would pay tribute to both sides and maintain their neutrality, or else they would pay a large amount of gold to the invading army and thus guarantee their safety.  Villagers would also arm themselves, and if they found anyone from a defeated army trying to retreat, they would descend from the village and attack them to steal their remaining goods. (7)
 
In order to protect themselves from the fires of war, both towns and villages adopted a number of self-defence measures during the era of the warring states.  
 
IV. From the battlefields to the cities – the wanderings of common soldiers
 
People of the era of the warring states announced their resolution to forego the world of chaos through their acceptance of “Hideyoshi’s peace”, which brought an end to conflict throughout the land.  For common soldiers, who made their living off of the spoils of battle and who without it would face starvation, they could either head overseas to participate in the invasion of the Korean peninsula or they could make their way to large scale castle construction projects or numerous “gold rushes”. These ‘projects’ provided new avenues of revenue for common soldiers, and they flocked to join them. The spirit of the age of “Hideyoshi’s peace” can be seen in the impetus to shift from the battlefield (the medieval world) to the city (the early modern world). (8) These large scale public projects, they be battles, or castles, or gold mines, acted as a kind of “survival system” amidst the continuous bad harvests and famines of the age. (8)
 
 
 
Epilogue
 
For those people taken as prisoners and sold over and over again, and for common soldiers who lost their means of livelihood, where did they eventually end up? Frois does not address this in his writing, yet evidence exists of many powerful ships from around the world, starting with the Portuguese and Japanese pirates operating in league with them, loading up many prisoners of war and common soldiers at many ports throughout Kyushu and taking them to battlefields in Southeast Asia. It is in investigating this phenomenon that I wish to conclude my study into the “commoner’s battlefield”. 
 
What drew me to such a title as “the commoner’s battlefield” was my discovery of the hugely influential work by Yamauchi Susumu, titled “A history of the laws and attitudes towards plunder and abduction”.  In Europe of the Middle Ages, the abduction of people from the battlefield, set against a stubborn continuation of famines, was closely entwined to the creation of an army as far as common soldiers and merchants were concerned. Another lesson came from Hiraki Shosuke (an expert on German medieval history).  The Frankish peasantry found that since their level of production was nowhere near adequate to feed themselves and they were not really suited to merely be farmers. So they became warriors in order to eat, and headed for the battlefield to seek fame and glory.  For them, war became a basis for everyday life, an important supplement in their calculations and an economic act of convenience. (8-9) 
 
Yet the agrarian revolution of the middle ages dramatically increased the levels of production among the peasantry, and thus it became possible for peasants to produce enough for themselves to eat. They became ‘professional’ agrarian workers, no longer reliant on fighting for a livelihood, which brought about a clear distinction between themselves and professional soldiers.  It’s this aspect to “the commoner’s battlefield” in particular that caught my eye. (9) 
 
This “reverse” explanation of the division of soldiers and peasants by Hiraki came as a shock to me. Until I read this, I had always looked at the issue of when warriors of the era of the warring states chose to become warriors from the point of view of “the creation of a professional warrior class”.  However Professor Hiraki’s thesis asked when peasants chose to remain peasants (without relying on warfare), thus looking at things from the point of view of the creation of a “professional agrarian class”.  It was the complete opposite of commonly held views on the division of peasant and warrior. (9) 
 
The works of early modern Japanese historian Takagi Shosaku also highlighted the fact that the plunder and abduction of people and goods on the battlefield were regarded as legitimate activities, with the main perpetrators of these acts being “samurai, chugen, komono, or arashiko”; in other words the common soldier. (9-10)   Using words that associated ‘samurai’ with soldiers of lower social rank indicated that they were not regarded as warriors, and that fact itself expanded my views on what constituted a common soldier. (10) I also learned a lot from the works of Asao Naohiro and his explanation of the late sixteenth century as the “high point of the social climbers”. (10)
 
A longstanding scholar of folk history and pursuer of studies into the traditions of plunder, Chiba Tokuji, also revealed the ‘origins of conflict’ lay in fighting between people and beasts, and thus revealed the true nature of warfare in Japan from the depths of folk belief.  This also influenced my thinking on warfare in a range of different ways. (10)
 
I should add that a majority of Japanese scholars of the era of the warring states (myself included) are well aware of the cruelties that war creates.  Recent studies by Kobayashi Seiji, which has raised many questions among scholars of the field, have admirably broken new ground on this front and I myself have been influenced by them. However, a good many scholars up until now (again, myself included), when reading of the plunder of people and goods from the battlefield, are influenced by (modern) practices of taking prisoners of war and accounting for them, and thus ascribe to the plunder of women and children and the seizure of goods the moniker of ‘crimes’. We also refer to the seizure of crops and burning of villages in the era of warring states as “harvesting” and “burning”, thus attempting to downplay the tactics adopted by warlords at the time. We only pay attention to acts meant to preserve the security of villages without examining what it was like for villages caught up in the cruelties of war.  While we might debate human trafficking, we see no problem in the taking of slaves from the battlefield. (10)
 
There are many records stating that the people were always the victims of war. Yet such works suffer from a lack of urgency compared to actual specific examples from history. They regard the people as little more than poor unfortunates. I myself am guilty of making this mistake, and I deeply regret it. (10) 
 
Until the beginning of the 21stcentury, for almost half a century Japan has known peace and has had ample food supplies.  While we are currently bathed in such joyful hues, we forget about the starvation and war that has affected many others abroad, and regard the so-called “era of war and famine” that was Japan during the Middle Ages as a period without rhyme nor reason nor any semblance of peace. As a result, when we come to read works about the war and famine in Japan in the Middle Ages, we have virtually no frame of reference from which to draw.  My thoughts on this have become even stronger since witnessing the changes in the environment going on around us. (10-11)
 
About twenty years ago I wrote a thesis which questioned the meaning of the large scale social changes that occurred at the end of the sixteenth century, otherwise known as the “unification of the nation (or the transition from war to peace)”, and that “Hideyoshi’s peace” contained within it a meaning of escaping from the cruelties of a society forced to defend and protect itself. Yet despite attempting to focus on aspects of society of the era of the warring states, I realize that I wasn’t able to shed light on anything about either the cruelties of a society at war or the realization of a life of peace. (11)
 
So gradually I began to examine things from the point of view of the common soldier rather than the “hero”, and was able to slowly enjoy immersing myself in the “social history of war and peace”.  The results of all of this detective work are contained in this work that I have titled “The commoner’s battlefield”. (11)    
 
I     A world in chaos
I.  The battlefields of the era of the warring states
 
The Shimazu army captures prisoners on the battlefield
 
First, let’s begin by paying a visit to the battlefields of Kyushu that Frois would have seen and which he described in his “History of Japan”.  Are we in fact certain that his descriptions of “war in order to eat” and “war aimed at plunder” were correct? What can we find to back up such assertions? (14-15)
 
One of the leading players on the battlefields of Kyushu at the end of the sixteenth century was the Shimazu clan of Satsuma.  The army of the Shimazu had made its way relentlessly northward, so much so that by Tensho 14 (1586) one could call the Shimazu the “absolute rulers of five provinces” of Kyushu. They continued to press the Otomo clan, the sole remaining ruler of Bungo province, and had almost completed their conquest of the entire island. As part of the central cog in this army, Shimazu retainer Uwai Kakuken had led troops north and very soon entered the province of Higo. Taking in the scenery around him, Uwai noted down what he witnessed in his diary. (15)
 
According to the diary’s editor, Uwai wrote that “The wounded returned (to Satsuma), along with the women and children captured along the way, so much so that they clogged up the roads.” Hence the roads leading back to Satsuma were filled with wounded soldiers belonging to the Shimazu army, along with some tens or so women and children captured as spoils of war.  The line of people that Kakuken saw were a group belonging to the Otomo and taken as plunder on the battlefields in the north, and were being led back to captivity in Shimazu held territory in the south.  This description perfectly backs up what Frois wrote in his own record. (16)
 
Moreover, four years earlier, at the end of Tensho 10 (1582), when moving to aid the Arima clan, Kakuken wrote a report on the siege of the castle of Chijiwa held by the Ryuzoji clan, where he noted that “two or three hundred of the enemy had been captured”, “countless people were captured”, and “there was an excess of captured people”. (16)
 
Frois wrote the same thing about the activities of the Shimazu clan at that time.  According to Frois’ record “They killed a large number of enemy soldiers, or took them prisoner. They devastated that land and plundered it.  However the commanders and soldiers who observed matters from their mountain camp strongly desired to take their spoils and return home. Unable to wait an extra day to complete their destruction of the enemy, they abandoned the castle of Saiga (that had been captured) and withdrew without meeting their objective.” (16)
 
There are no contradictions between Frois’ and Kakuken’s records.  Amid the soldiers of the Shimazu army, there were some who had no interest in meeting that day’s objective (of capturing Chijiwa castle) and wanted “return home as early as possible with their spoils” and that there were “commanders and soldiers” whose only interest was plunder, which means that the army clearly included organised groups of plunderers.  The line of people that Kakuken had met on the road were most certainly taken by those same plunderers. (16)
​
The reports, diaries, and military tales of the Shimazu are replete with many examples of the Shimazu army capturing people or livestock or else devastating crops.  I’ll quote here from three diaries whose records only describe the capture of people.
 
(The diary of Hongo Tadasuke)
 
(1st Month of Tenbun 15 – 1546). 50 or more people killed, and countless men, women, cattle and horses taken.
(4th Month of Tenbun 18 – 1549) 236 heads taken, and many captured. 
 
(The diary of the Yamamoto of Gamou)
 
(8th Month of the 1st year of Kouji – 1551) Three enemy killed, and one other captured.
(10th Month of the 1st year of Kouji) Two enemy killed, in addition to 15 or 16 children and one adult being captured.
(3rd Month of Kouji 2 – 1552) 7 ashigaru went out and captured around 4 commoners.
(2nd Month of Kouji 3 – 1553) Chased after 10 or so enemy, and after a while captured 3 of them.
(3rd Month of Kouji 3) Took one adult captive at the base of Kitamura. (17)
 
(Diary of Hongo Tokihisa)
 
(5th Month of the 8th year of Eiroku – 1565) 28 killed, 40 captured, 700 items seized.
(4th Month of the 9th year of Eiroku) Fighting between boats, the Ito group killed 29, took 9 alive, over 63 killed in total, 5 boats seized.
(5th Month of the 12th year of Eiroku) 107 heads taken, of which only 1 taken alive, 5 generals killed, for a total of 170 killed.
(Same month) Departed Shonai, 3 people abducted.
(4th Month of the 3rd year of Genki – 1572) Villages were destroyed, and many horses and people were taken.
(9th Month of the same year) A castle was captured, 3 of the Ijichi family were killed, along with over 70 others, countless numbers of people seized.
(1st Month of the 2nd year of Tensho – 1574) 60 killed, and over 400 taken by skilled retainers.
 
Amid these records of the military exploits of the Shimazu army, one thing that particular stands out are the numerous references to “taking people” or “capturing people alive”. As seen from the examples of “3 enemies killed, and 1 taken alive”, taking prisoners on the battlefield (as opposed to killing them) appears to refer to the capture of enemy soldiers. However the plunder of countless numbers of men and women, as evidenced by the references to “countless numbers of men, women, cattle and horses were taken” and “over 400 people taken (by skilled retainers)”, in addition to those records stating “1 child taken” and “3 people abducted” makes it unlikely that they were taken as prisoners of war. When we see records that state “the lower classes took one captive” and “7 ashigaru went out and captured around 4 commoners”, this indicates that the main perpetrators of taking prisoners on the battlefield, as well as those who fell victim to such practices, were lower order soldiers or their affiliates.(18)

The battlefields of southern Higo province 
 
Even in the territory of a minor daimyo like the Sagara clan in southern Higo, the taking of people went unabated.  The annual record of the Sagara, known as the “Yatsushiro Diary”, speaks of this.  
 
(3rdmonth of the 9thyear of Tenbun – 1540) Over a thousand of the enemy killed, and up to 2000 taken prisoner.
(10thmonth of the 16thyear of Tenbun) A soldier by the name of Yo Shichihyoe carried out a night attack and took one enemy captive. 3 days later he captured two retainers from Izumi. (19)
 
(10th month of the 19th year of Tenbun) Broke through defences, killed 4, captured 11 alive, and took numerous cows and horses.
(9th month of the 2nd year of Kouji – 1556) Broke through the defence of Takado Daido, killed 6, took 20 captive.
(11th month of the 2nd year of Kouji) 5 killed, 53 taken captive, cattle and horses taken.
(11th month of the 3rd year of Kouji) From Inekari to Fusekusa, 2 killed, 2 captured.
(3rd month of the 2nd year of Eiroku – 1559) In sumover 20 men and women killed, and 38 or so captured. 
(9th month of the 2nd year of Eiroku) At Fusekusa, headed down to the sands near the sea, 3 killed, 8 taken captive. 
(Lunar 3rd month of the 4th year of Eiroku) A night attack carried out from Ikeura and Sashiki, 1 killed, 2 captured. 
(12th month of the 7th year of Eiroku) Some underlings, while out gathering firewood, took 7 persons captive. (19)

Continuing a trend that I started last year of reviewing, and occasionally posting, information related to the experience of Westerners in the first years of interaction with Japan following the Treaty of Kanagawa (1854) and the Treaty of Amity and Commerce Between the United States and the Empire of Japan (1857, otherwise known as the Harris Treaty), I thought it best to post below some of the significant developments that led to the opening of the Port of Yokohama and events of note in the six years that followed. 

The opening of Yokohama as a treaty port was a significant event in the gradual modernisation of the Japanese state, and transformed the political, economic and social mores of mid nineteenth century Japanese society. The port would influence every foreigner that ventured ashore in search of fame or fortune, and they in turn would use their experience to try to explain Japan and its people to a world curious to know more of this island state on the fringes of the Asian continent. 

In its first ten years of existence, Yokohama would witness the rise of Japan’s trading sector, the first adoption of Western technology by Japanese citizens,  the introduction of Western culinary trends, fashion, religion, sports, entertainments and ethics into Japan, and the first incidents of anti-Western and anti-foreign terrorism in Japan. It would see the establishment of some familiar companies, the emergence of new commercial relationships, and stimulate debate on Japan’s place in the world and how it should develop as a nation.  It was an age of great activity and excited anticipation, and will fascinate anyone willing to explore the roots of modern Japan.

Notable Events
1856

• July - US Consul Townsend Harris arrives at Shimoda.

 
1857

• In October, Harris is granted an audience with Shogun Tokugawa Iesada at Edo, and in November negotiations begin between the US and Japan on a new treaty – the Treaty of Amity and Commerce.
• By year’s end, no resolution had been reached on a treaty, and a number of daimyo had voiced their objections to Japan signing such a document. In order to unify the opinions of the nation, the Bakufu would need the approval of the Emperor for the treaty to proceed.

1858

• January – Bakufu retainer and principal minister Hotta Masayoshi is dispatched to Kyoto to speak with the Emperor, however he is unsuccessful in gaining Imperial approval for the new treaty. As the treaty remains unsigned, Harris leaves Edo and returns to Shimoda.
• Hotta appointed Iwase Tadanao to lead the negotiations with Harris. While he was wary of the destabilizing impact of a foreign presence in Japan, Iwase clearly recognized the potential benefits of international trade, and he went against many of his colleagues in arguing that Japan should agree to open a port in or near Edo.  Iwase argued that the economic stimulus of trade might help the shogunate’s finances, and technology flowing into the country from abroad would arrive first in Edo and not near the domains of potentially hostile daimyo. 
• Iwase was particularly aware of the relative power of Osaka, which was still Japan’s major commercial center.  If Osaka were also to benefit from trade under the new treaty, then Edo and the rest of the country would wither, and only Osaka would prosper.  Iwase felt that opening a new port for trade near Edo might help shift Japan’s center of economic gravity more towards the shogun’s power base in the east.
• 3 May 1858 – The US warship USS Powhatan arrives off the coast of Shimoda, and relays news of the success of the British and French forces attack on Canton against Chinese forces. Harris moves quickly to exploit this news, going onboard the Powhatan and making his way to Shibamura to have the treaty signed. On the 19th of May, the Japan US commercial treaty is signed on board the Powhatan off the coast of Kanagawa. The Bakufu is led by Consul Harris to understand that the US will intervene in any attempt by a combined British-French force to use the threat of military force to pressure Japan, and so agrees to sign the treaty without the approval of the Emperor. This then leads to a wave of signings of further commercial treaties with Holland, Russia, Britain and France.  
• 29 July 1858 – The Treaty that was signed on this date designated Kanagawa as one of three ports that would open to foreign trade.  The others were Hakodate at the southern tip of Hokkaido and Nagasaki in the far west.  Hakodate was already open as part of the Perry treaty of 1854, but only for resupply of foreign ships, not for trade.  Nagasaki had been a centre for trade for centuries. So although all three ports would be covered by the provisions of the treaty, the opening of Kanagawa was its most significant feature.
• 30 December 1858 – Notice released by Edo granting permission for Yokohama to become an open port.

1859

• 12 January 1859 – Notices are issued to all senior retainers of the Bakufu for transmission to their respective provinces, detailing the application procedures for any person from those provinces who wished to move to Yokohama to trade with foreigners and the circumstances under which they would be able to do so. Permits would then be issued to those deemed acceptable who could then rent land in Yokohama to engage in their business. Such was the amount of interest that by mid March nearly all of the land made available for this purpose had been rented. One particularly notable renter was Iseya Zenshirō, a dyer from Muramatsu-chō in Edo.  In February Kitamura Hikojirō, Enshūya Seijirō, and another 15 merchants from Suruga province applied for and received permission. These merchants had good ties to traders in Shimoda, and so they knew that the crews of foreign vessels that visited that town were particularly fond of dyed cloth and tea.
• April 1859 – The “Foreigners Official” from the Bakufu orders the famous merchant Echigo-ya Mitsui Hachirō Uemon to apply for a permit to open a business in Yokohama. This was less about Mitsui wanting to trade with foreigners as it was the determination of the Bakufu to have the presence of a trading house of adequate size and prestige. The same official also made arrangements for food and beverage stores to open branches in Yokohama to meet the demand expected after foreigners begin to arrive in the town. By May around 9 major merchant houses had established themselves in Yokohama, who were then lined up on the northern side of Ōdori Go-chō-me.
• In all, seventy one merchants were approved to open business in Yokohama.  Of these, thirty four were from Edo, eighteen from Kanagawa, and other neighboring districts, and only nineteen from more distant places.
• 3rd of June 1859 – US Warship Mississippi and the SS Wanderer of the Heard Trading Company leave Shimoda and weigh anchor off Yokohama.  On board the Mississippi is the recently promoted Consul Townsend Harris, Consul Doore, and Joseph Heko (or Hamada Hikozō), who has returned to Japan after an absence of 10 years.  On the 1st of July Doore went ashore at Yokohama and negotiated for the establishment of consular residences there. The Bakufu had already prepared residences at “Cross Beach” (literally Yokohama), however the US negotiators, in keeping with the treaty made earlier, insisted on residences within and around Kanagawa They later chose a Soto Zen temple, Honkakuji, located on a high plateau overlooking the Yokohama area.  At around 4 in the afternoon on the same day, Dutch trading ship the Schiller landed at Yokohama. A trader on board negotiated with Bakufu authorities to rent the accommodation already prepared in the village itself, and on the 5th were granted access to the buildings. From the 16th a trading shop was opened, making it the first foreign trade business established in Yokohama. The trader concerned is believed to have been a German sailing under the protection of the Dutch, L (Louis) Kniffler. (From Saito Takio, “The Story of the Origins of Yokohama”, Yūtai Shinsho, 2017).
• 30 June 1859 – Arrival of US Trading Ship Wanderer, first trading ship with traders to land at Yokohama.
• 2 July 1859 – Arrival of British Trading Ship Carthage. First arrival of a postal vessel at Yokohama.
• 16 July 1859 – Start of trading by L Kniffler. First foreign business established at Yokohama.
• 25 August 1859 – Servant of the Russian Consul assassinated at Yokohama. First instance of an attack against foreigners in Yokohama.
• 24 October 1859 – Dr Richard Duggan establishes the Kanagawa Hospital. This is the first foreign operated medical facility in Yokohama. (An Irishman from Galway, believed to be of questionable character).
• 1 November 1859 - American Missionary James Curtis Hepburn establishes the first meteorological observations in Yokohama, and Japan in general.
• Western style wharves established, the first such facilities in Yokohama.

1860

• 3 January 1860 – Fire breaks out in the foreign residential quarter of Yokohama. This is the first large fire in the city’s history.  An interpreter assigned to the British legation by the name of “Breckman” described it as thus.  Breckman, at 1pm on the afternoon of the fire, was travelling from Kanagawa to Yokohama by boat. He noted that there was a column of white smoke emerging from the foreign quarter, which soon turned to thick black smoke.  The fire appeared to break out in a warehouse belonging to ‘Turel” and Carter, before spreading to a thatch warehouse belonging to the De Koninck company. It was the Japanese residents, of course, who did everything they could to extinguish the fire. Some of them were injured while doing so, to which the legations paid a gratuity.
• 22 January 1860 – The First Bakufu delegation leaves for the United States from Yokohama.
• 24 February 1860 – Dutchman Huffnagel (a former ship captain) establishes the Yokohama Hotel, the first Western style hotel in Japan.  The hotel itself featured a billiards room and a bar, the first of either of these amenities in Japan. 
• 26 February 1860 – Assassination of a Dutch ship captain at Yokohama.
• March-April 1860 – Roasted meat party held at the Yokohama Hotel.  This signaled the start of the consumption of meat in Yokohama.
• 1 September 1860 – Formation of a racing society by Western residents. This was the start of Western-style horse racing in Japan.
• 1860 - John Eisler and Martindell establish the first butcher shop in Yokohama.
• 1860 – American photographer Orrin Erastus Freeman establishes the first photography studio in Yokohama, and Japan in general.
• In this year, Utsumi Heikichi establishes the first bakery in Yokohama.

1861

• July 1861 – Foreigner’s cemetery established between the slopes and the foothills located near the town.
• 23 November 1861 – First publication of the “Japan Herald” newspaper.
• December 1861 – Eugene van Reed publishes the “Shoyō Kaiwa”, the first book detailing business phrases in English.

1862

• Start of the year – Shimooka Renjō establishes a photography studio in Yokohama. This is the first photography studio to be operated by a Japanese citizen in Yokohama.
• Start of the year – American missionary Jonathan Goble establishes the first English language training school in Yokohama. 
• 21 January 1862 – Foundation of the Yokohama Tenshudō (cathedral). This is the first Catholic church created since the opening of Japan to foreign influences.
• 27 April 1862 – The Dutch Consulate moves from Kanagawa to Yokohama, thus starting the practice of moving consulates to Yokohama.
• Late April – Early May 1862 – Charles Wirgman publishes “Japan Punch”, Japan’s first comic serial magazine.
• In the same year, Watanabe Zenbei starts a laundry business, thus founding Japan’s first cleaning enterprise.
• July 1862 – James B. Macaulay founds the Royal British Hotel in Yokohama, and installs a coffee room inside the hotel.  This is the first hotel to feature such a room. 
• September 1862 – The Namamugi Incident takes place, resulting in the stationing of naval vessels off Yokohama and the installation of British and French garrisons near the town.
• October 1862 – A bowling green is established at the Royal British Hotel, thus starting the sport of bowling in Japan.
• 1 December 1862 – The Golden Gate Restaurant opens in Yokohama. This is the first restaurant of its type in Japan. 
• This year also saw the establishment of a hospital in the Chinese ward, the first such public hospital. 

1863

• 23 February 1863 - Establishment of the Yokohama Uniting Church. This is the first Protestant church to be founded in Yokohama after the opening of the port.
• March 1863 – Founding of the West Indian Central Bank. This is the first foreign bank to be established in Yokohama. 
• April 1863 – Opening of the Yokohama Hospital.  This marks the beginning of operation of a public comprehensive hospital by Western residents in Japan.
• 18 May 1863 – The Bakufu approves the use of barracks in Yokohama by British and French forces to protect the foreign resident enclaves.
• June-July 1863 – Local residents and crew members from a visiting British warship engage in cricket matches, marking the start of cricket in Japan.
• 4 September 1863 – The Dutch Consulate holds its first evening meeting. 
• 5 and 6 October 1863 – The holding of the inaugural Grand Yokohama Regatta. This was the first such event held in Japan.
• 18 October 1863 – Founding of the Christchurch Cathedral. This is the first Protestant cathedral located in Yokohama. 
• October 1863 – The practice of illusionism gains popularity.  This heralds the arrival of magic and illusion by professionals in Japan.
• 7 November 1863 – British woman R.C Pearson opens the first Western dress shop, thus starting the practice of dress making in Yokohama.
• 6 December 1863 – German Radage Werke (Welke) establishes Yokohama’s first tailor shop.
• 12 December 1863 – Murder of foreign baker “Frankeyo” (Frank Jose). This is the first instance of a murder carried out by one foreigner against another foreigner.
• 22 December 1863 – Establishment of the German Club. 

1864

• 1 January 1864 – Establishment of the Foreign Residential Area Firefighting Squad.
• At the beginning of the year – The restaurant “Three Brothers of Provence” establishes the first Western confectionary store in Yokohama. 
• 1 February 1864 – Lowell begins operations in Japan, thus creating the first steel works in Yokohama.
• 5 March 1864 – Hairdressing and shaving salon established in Yokohama, the first such Western hairdressing business in Japan.
• 6 March 1864 – Visit by touring horse troupe, marking the first visit to Japan by a foreign circus performance group.
• 6 March 1864 – Completion of the eastern (or French) wharves at Yokohama.
• 26 March 1864 – The Hua Brothers (originally from Shanghai) start their trade in purified and distilled water, and begin the manufacture of lemonade in Yokohama.
• 28 March 1864 – The Café du Arie (run by a Frenchman known as Renault) commences business, the first such café in Yokohama.
• Around March – Formation of the Yokohama Medical Hall.  This was the first chemist shop to be operated by foreigners in Yokohama.
• 5-6 May 1864 – Start of the Yokohama Field Sports, the first major competition involving athletics in Yokohama.
• September 1864 – The British Army in Yokohama establishes a Pox hospital.  It is the first such medical establishment for the prevention of communicable diseases in Yokohama.
• 5 November 1864 – American Richard R “Professor” Risley opens his amphitheatre (a circular performance theatre), the first such Western theatre in Yokohama and Japan.
• 21 November 1864 – The “Record of Yokohama Residential Areas” (Yokohama Iryūchi Kakusho) is completed.
• 31 December 1864 – Briton Alexander Shillingford establishes the first construction office in Yokohama, making him the first Western carpentry and construction engineer present in the town.
• In the same year – The British P&O shipping company establishes the first fixed route from Shanghai to Yokohama. 
• Also in the same year – The French Naval hospital is established.  This is the first foreign naval hospital in Yokohama and Japan in general. 

1865

• 4 March 1865 – T.S Smith begins his sign writing business in Yokohama, the first such Western painter to do so.
• 18 April 1865 – Dutchman Le Marchant starts his shoe making business, the first such business in Yokohama.
• March 1865 – A rifle range is established at Negishimura for use by the British Army to practice their shooting.
• 1 May 1865 – The beer and concert hall are completed.
• 13 May 1865 – American Richard R. “Professor” Risley starts selling Amazu ice, and soon follows this up by selling ice cream.  It marks the first time ice cream has been made and sold in Japan.
• 5 August 1865 – Swimming competition held using ocean going boats. This is the first swimming competition to take place in Yokohama. 
• August 1865 – Chisholm starts his piano tuning business, the first of its kind in Yokohama.
• 17 September 1865 – Yano Mototaka (Ryūzan) is baptized by American James Ballagh. He thus becomes the first ever (recorded) Japanese Protestant.
• 9 October 1865 – Dental surgeon Eastluck arrives in Yokohama and sets up business. It is the first such business to be undertaken in Japan.
• 8 November 1865 – The Yokohama Rifle Association holds its first competition.
• In the same year – the Swiss Rifle Club is formed, marking the start of shooting clubs in the settlement.

1866

• 24 February 1866 – Risley imports dairy cows to Japan from America, and establishes the first such farm in Japan.
• 7 April 1866 – Ban lifted on Japanese citizens going abroad. 
• 26 June 1866 – The Yokohama Lodge of the Freemasons is established.
• August 1866 – Kishida Ginkō establishes his eye medicine business known as “Sei-ki-sui”.
• 20 October 1866 – The Great Fire of Yokohama. Two-thirds of the Japanese residential area, and one-fifth of the foreign residential area are burned to the ground. 

This year, 2018, was a year of achievements in the Japan-Australia relationship, although many of those achievements have yet to bear fruit. We saw the 2+2 visit in October, followed by the visit to Darwin by PM Abe in November. Not only this, we saw the annual Japanese participation in Exercise Southern Jackaroo, the first ever involvement by Australian minesweeping craft in a trilateral exercise in Japan together with the United States, and the postponed (but soon to be held) Exercise Bushido Guardian, the first ever fighter training exercise involving the RAAF and the JASDF to be held in Japan. While the Reciprocal Access Agreement (which is essentially a Status of Forces Agreement) has yet to be completed, despite a number of opportunities to do so, it does look as though both sides will aim to have that piece of bilateral legal history shored up by the time Australia heads into yet another federal election in mid May (or early March, depending on with whom you talk).

2019 will be one of signature years for Australia-Japan relations (in a way that 2007 and 2014 were) if there is a change in government in Australia, and equally if both sides do get the RAA done and dusted. While Labor has always maintained a fairly healthy relationship with Japan, and is committed to continuing the momentum built up over the past few years, whether it remains as enthusiastic about the relationship remains to be seen.

The topic of parliamentary party relations with Japan is something that has become an interest to me, and prompted me to take a look at some of the agreements made between both countries over the past 40 years. The end result of that is the list below:

July 2014
Japan-Australia Economic Partnership Agreement (JAEPA)
Coalition

July 2014
Agreement Concerning the Transfer of Defence Equipment and Technology
Coalition

March 2013
Information Sharing Agreement
Labor

January 2013
Defence Acquisition and Cross Servicing Agreement
Labor

December 2011
Memorandum of Understanding on International Development Cooperation
Labor

February 2008
Convention on Taxation
Labor

March 2007
Japan-Australia Joint Declaration on Security Cooperation
Coalition

February 2007
Australia-Japan Social Security Agreement
Coalition

August 1997
Australia-Japan Partnership Agenda
Coalition

May 1995
Joint Declaration on the Australia-Japan Partnership
Labor

March 1982
Australia-Japan Nuclear Energy Cooperation Agreement
Coalition

November 1980
Australia-Japan Scientific Research Cooperation Agreement
Coalition

June 1976
Basic Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation (the Nara Treaty)
Coalition

November 1974
Australia-Japan Cultural Agreement
Labor

July 1957
Australia-Japan Agreement on Commerce
Coalition

 
While the above chart presents a fairly simplified visual key to the course of bilateral relations (as some of the agreements were initiated under Labor only to be finalized under the Coalition, while the same could be said about the Democratic Party of Japan and the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan), what is evident is most of the historical agreements between both countries have been reached under a Coalition/LDP government alignment.   The question then arises as to why this is the case. Is the Coalition more ideologically aligned with the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan, thus leading to the higher level of agreements created when both of those governments have been in power, or have other factors played a role in this state of affairs? Note that of the above agreements, the only one that was reached without the LDP was that in December 2011, when the DPJ briefly ruled in its own right before being removed in December 2012. 

This question really goes to a broad range of factors affecting the bilateral relationship, but also to the nature of political parties in both countries.  It also points to the political leadership in both countries and the ideology of the individual leaders or members of cabinet.  To get to the root of this issue, it would be necessary to delve into the background of negotiations behind the agreements, to see how they were regarded by either side at the time.  Another issue of note is to examine whether the agreements themselves substantially impacted on the bilateral relationship, leading, for example, to greater levels of co-operation, which itself would indicate how dedicated either side was to promoting bilateral ties. 

Of particular note (from an Australian perspective) is how the relationship was regarded by successive Japanese governments. While Japan and Australia have co-operated with one another for over 60 years, most of this co-operation was concentrated in the trade arena, which until recently was the dominant factor in bilateral relations. It is only the emergence of China as a regional power and the relative stagnation of the US commitment to this part of the world that has prompted the new enthusiasm for security ties between both countries.  

Another factor that would need to be considered is the history of political attitudes to labour relations in both countries, which could be another factor that has determined how closely each government felt it could work with either their Japanese or Australian counterpart.  While the immediate postwar period saw an increase in union representation in Japan, that was superseded by the ‘boom years’ in which corporate interests were given priority in exchange for job security, with the gradual loss of influence in corporate decision making that came with this development.

One further matter is that of environmental concerns. Labor was, of course, the party that decided to take Japan to the ICJ in order to have its scientific whaling program declared illegal under international law, a point that has not been forgotten in the halls of Nagata-chō. While Japan is still reliant on Australian exports of raw materials to meet its energy needs, particularly coal and gas, the gradual social movement towards renewable energy in Australia, and Labor’s enthusiastic embrace of that technology, might impact on the trading relationship, especially if Labor decides to use legislation to curb gas exports to (rather optimistically) lower electricity prices in Australia. While there is little indication that Labor would follow through with this, it has been raised by Labor leader Bill Shorten in the past, and there is every reason to think that the policy could be revisited if Labor win power and find themselves being hemmed by electricity concerns.

So there is much to expect in 2019, and hopefully it will mean an enhanced rather than a diminished bilateral relationship.  What will be assured is the continued need of both countries to keep the US focused on this region, and on that there will be no let-up in consultation and joint action. In the meantime all I can offer is to wish you, the reader, the very best in the year to come.

Last Friday’s visit to Darwin by Prime Minister Abe was one of those “blink and you’ll miss it” moments in bilateral relations.  Shoved between the East Asia Summit in Singapore and the APEC Leaders’ Summit in Port Moresby, PM Abe managed to find the time to swing by northern Australia in order to conduct discussions with Prime Minister Morrison on matters of mutual importance, primarily the situation with China and its aid efforts in the Pacific along with discussions on the long-awaited Reciprocal Access Agreement. 

The fact that this agreement has not yet been finalized has been a source of some frustration for those watching the progress of Australia-Japan strategic relations. Perhaps the best way to regard the slow pace in developments might be to remember that “good things come to those who wait”. 

Nevertheless, both sides still had plenty to talk about over the 20 or so hours of the visit.

One particular item that was kept under wraps but later revealed during APEC was the Australia, the US, and Japan trilateral joint initiative on infrastructure funding for the Pacific.  PM Abe also took the time upon arrival in Australia to travel to the Darwin Cenotaph to pay his respects and lay a wreath in memory of those who perished during Japan’s air raids on the city in February 1942. As was highlighted during the visit, this gesture followed on from a similar one he made at Pearl Harbour in 2016. Given Abe’s political background and heritage, he is perhaps the most qualified of any of Japan’s recent leaders to make this gesture, which was generally well received by both the Darwin community and Australia at large.  Abe (or more correctly his wife Akie) also visited the memorial to the Fujita Salvage Operation of 1959 to 1961, located out the front of the Darwin Uniting Memorial Church, while the prime ministerial couple laid wreathes at the memorial to the crew of the I-124 submarine that was sunk outside the Port of Darwin one month before the air raid on the city. 

The visit was certainly more memorable for the above events than for the equally as important but perhaps less attention-grabbing visit to PM Abe to the Ichthys LNG project, Japan’s largest overseas investment. This mammoth project, which is expected to continue to supply LNG to Japan for the next 40 years, is the figurehead of the Australia-Japan economic relationship at present, and has been vigorously promoted by the governments of both countries since the announcement of the project in 2012. 

The only other event of note during the visit was a quick trip by PM Abe to greet the crew of the Japan Coast Guard Vessel “Echigo” during their inaugural training exercise with the Australian Border Force, along with anti-piracy maneuvers in Southeast Asian waters.  This is an extension of similar visits that Japanese Coast Guard vessels have made around the region, and marks a welcome expansion in Japan’s security apparatus to reinforce the sovereignty of regional states.

The visit itself will primarily be remembered for the Darwin reconciliation gesture, and certainly had more to offer than a visit to Tokyo made earlier in the year by former PM Malcolm Turnbull (a visit that also promised a major announcement, only for it to turn into a standard PR opportunity replete with a visit to an SDF base, a first by an Australian PM, if I recall correctly). While it might be a while before the leaders of either country undertake any bilateral visits (given that Australia is expected to have a federal election by mid-May, the results of which could see a change in government) it was a good reminder of just how close the bilateral ties are between both nations and how these “middle powers” are acting on behalf of their own and partner nation interests to bring some stability to this part of the world.

Right now Japan is going through a period of introspection (albeit mostly in a political context) in relation to what kind of society it wishes to be and how it might retain something of its labour strength in the face of dwindling population and productivity statistics. On Tuesday, debate began in earnest in the Lower House on proposed changes to immigration laws to expand the range of professions allowable in order to increase the number of foreign workers permitted to work in Japan.  Up until now, most professions involving foreign workers have been limited to those at the higher end of the income curve, most notably lawyers, traders, university professors and the like, with a separate program for foreign ‘students’ in industries that are more reliant on physical labour, notably fishing and farming (this program has, however, been somewhat controversial, for while it is ostensibly about teaching foreign students to acquire agriculture and technical skills, it has often been used as a simple means of finding staff without regard for adequate wages or good working conditions).  

Debate this week has mostly focused on the number of workers that will be allowed into the country. Under the proposal put forward by the government, the range of permitted professions will expand to 14 in number, with a first intake of between 3,300 to 4,700 workers starting in April 2019. By 2023 the government predicts that between 260,000 to 340,000 foreign workers will have been employed in Japan’s domestic industries. The problem here, however, is that according to the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare, Japan will have a shortfall in workers of around 1,300,000 to 1, 350,000 by 2023. The Ministry of Justice initially anticipated that Japan would need to admit 40,000 workers in the first year of the new program, which would then expand to 250,000, although these figures were never made public.

Hence the disparity in numbers will need to be met either by increasing the intake of foreign workers or changing regulations governing employment in Japan.  Opposition parties in Japan are demanding that the government reveal how it intends to overcome the worker gap, particularly if it wants to boost worker numbers. The government itself has said that it is examining the prospect of a greater intake, although details of its policy have yet to be made public.  

The issue of foreign labour in Japan is a contentious one for a number of reasons. Despite Japan benefiting from large influxes of immigrants from South America from the 1960s onwards, immigrants who were by and large of Japanese ancestry with some form of tangible link to the country, these immigrants still experienced difficulty in integrating with Japanese society. Japan, unlike other developed countries, does not have programs in place to deal with large scale immigration, and there aren’t enough NGOs available to cope with the needs of diverse immigrant communities. Japanese society itself is not in favour of an expanded immigration regime (although somewhat paradoxically a majority of Japanese also believe that immigrants help society by contributing their labour and skills).

Japan is coming to this issue somewhat late, given that declining productivity and the drop in the domestic working age population has been debated at length for over a decade. It is also competing against other countries around the region and world who have large scale immigration programs targeting manual labourers from developing countries, with some of these offering better working conditions and wages than can be found in Japan. 

It is to the credit of PM Abe that he has been at the forefront of this initiative, and that he is using his renewed authority within the LDP to push for increased immigration. This policy, which is primarily aimed at insuring against any sharp downturn in Japan’s productivity over the long term, could have added benefits for Japan’s renewed focus on regional leadership as well.  Since a majority of workers will be drawn from developing nations in the region, their acceptance will provide evidence of Japan’s desire to contribute to the well-being and technical progress of the region as a whole. While many challenges lie ahead, not least of which is getting a majority of Japanese society to accept the presence of larger numbers of foreign labourers in their midst, it opens the door to a potential resolution of Japan’s labour woes and a greater integration of Japan into the global labour market.   

In a long litany of posts in which I apologise for the lack of updates, this won’t be one of them. I’ve been busy. And I’ve been trying to juggle various responsibilities while thinking of a subject about which to write. Today, amidst news of the attempts by Tokyo Medical University to wind back the clock and reduce the number of women entering the university by doctoring (no pun intended) their entrance scores, this gem of a story came to my attention during the week and deserves a mention on this blog.

As most readers would know, Japan is scheduled to host the Olympics in two years’ time. While this fact itself has been reported almost to death, what has not received quite as much exposure has been articles talking of cost blowouts, potential fatalities from running a marathon in the middle of Japan’s summer, and the churn in ministers responsible for keeping the Olympic schedule on track. After the recent LDP leadership election and subsequent reshuffle in responsibilities, it has fallen upon the rather obscure figure of Sakurada Yoshitaka to assume the mantle of minister responsible for this logistical and PR behemoth.

On Monday Sakurada did not exactly cover himself in glory when he fronted the Upper House Budget Committee to answer questions about his portfolio.  The questions were, admittedly, pretty straight-forward; namely what was the vision for the Olympics, what were the key concepts involved in the Olympics, and how much were the Olympics likely to cost. The problem was that Sakurada was not able to answer these questions straight away, and on a few occasions proceedings had to be brought to a halt as Sakurada received some quick briefings on his portfolio by senior bureaucrats. On the following day, Sakurada fronted the media to explain his performance, claiming that because the opposition had failed to provide the government will a list of its questions beforehand (a unique aspect of the Diet system much commented on by other countries where parliamentary debate is less scripted) he had been unable to provide answers in a more ‘timely’ manner (the opposition claim that they did inform Sakurada’s staff ahead of time, which the LDP itself confirmed on Wednesday).

The problem was then exacerbated on Friday when Sakurada once again fronted the media, this time to withdraw his comments made to the Committee, saying that they were “somewhat different to the truth”, but against reiterating his claim that “if only the opposition had provided detailed questions ahead of time, then I could answer them in full”. 

Naturally the opposition parties have been zeroing in on this performance, for the absence of anything else with which to berate PM Abe they have to take what is available.  Questions were raised about Sakurada’s suitability to serve in cabinet, with past examples of his gaffes raised for good measure, most notably his comments while serving as Deputy Minister for Education in which he said any radioactive waste from the Dai-ichi nuclear plant should stay in Fukushima Prefecture “where nobody wants to live”, and when he described comfort women as “engaged in prostitution as a profession”.    

Sakurada is probably not going anywhere in the time being – after all the reshuffle was only two months ago, and there is still time for Sakurada to gain more knowledge of his portfolio. Moreover he is a factional ally of Nikai Toshihiro, Secretary General of the LDP, and Nikai wanted one of his men in cabinet in exchange for support during the LDP leadership election. So Sakurada will most likely survive this round of scrutiny, however he will be closely watched, and any subsequent gaffes could bring his ministerial career to an abrupt (but possibly welcome) halt. 

One of the things that you often encounter while working at the coalface of diplomacy is correspondence claiming to have an exclusive rights to technology that the writer, usually independently, has discovered and who wishes to sell to either the embassy or the government concerned.  The explanations for this technology can vary from detailed blueprints to sketches done, literally, on the back of a napkin.  It appears that this phenomenon is by no means recent, for it was during a routine search for information on the Australia-Japan relationship that I came across a rather unique piece of historical evidence of Australia’s entrepreneurial spirit and the desire to forge a link with Japan’s nascent naval fleet.

In December 1898, Japan’s consulate in Melbourne, which was an honorary position at the time, wrote a dispatch to Tokyo concerning letters received from one Thomas Carter of Scottsdale, Tasmania, pertaining to an invention that Carter claims to have created and was willing to sell to Japan. In the correspondence, honorary consul Alexander Marks (himself a former British trader who migrated to Melbourne from Yokohama in the late nineteenth century) explained that Mr Carter, a coal and chemical engineer, had approached the consulate with an offer to sell the plans for a “submerged torpedo boat” named “Annihilator”. In his explanation for making this offer, Mr Carter stated that in his view, Japan had been treated “unfairly” in its dealings with China compared to European powers, and so wanted Japan to manufacture equipment that would allow it to successfully resist attempts by these powers, particularly Russia, to impose “unjust concessions on China” (with the implication that these could later be imposed on Japan). 

To reinforce the validity of his offer, Mr Carter enclosed a letter written and signed by the mayor of Launceston and officers from the Tasmanian military forces attesting to Mr Carter’s plan and revealing that it was of “sufficient importance to command the attention of the British Naval Authorities”.  Mr Carter followed this up with another letter a month later, in which he claimed that one of the authors of the above letter had already written to the British Admiralty and urging them to “lose no time or opportunity of securing the exclusive right of the invention”.  As such, in Mr Carter’s view, he was being “pushed for time” on whether to go ahead and sell his patent to the Royal Navy or pursue his original plan of selling the invention to Imperial Japan.

Needless to say, Consul Marks took these claims with something more than a grain of salt, mentioning in his letter that “his (Carter’s) ideas are very extravagant like all inventors” but informing Tokyo of the matter and requesting its opinion on how to proceed.   

All these details were discussed in Tokyo in February the following year. In a cable from Naval Secretary Ito Shunkichi to Ministry of Foreign Affairs Secretary Takahira Kogorō, dated for 14th day of February 1899, the Imperial Navy stated that it “had no desire” to purchase the plans for a submersible vehicle, which pretty much brought an end to the entire matter. 

Although only a minor episode in the early interaction between both countries, it is an interesting window into diplomatic correspondence as it was conducted some 119 years ago, particularly between Australia’s various colonies and the recently unified nation of Japan. One can only imagine what might have resulted if Japan had gone ahead and purchased Mr Carter’s “Annihilator”, but perhaps it came to some good use in the service of the Royal Navy. 

In the early evening of the 30th of November (1867), Mitford writes that he and Ernest Satow set out for Osaka in order to make preparations for the opening of a port in the province of Hyōgo on the first day of the new year. That year would bring forth a new dynamism, and would bear witness to a series of never-to-be-repeated events in world history. Mitford writes that he and Satow arrived in Osaka on the 3rd of December, and found themselves in a town already at the centre of political upheaval.  He writes that the ambassador and diplomatic staff, along with a large number of their security staff, including around 50 members of the 9th Regiment, would need lodgings to receive them during their stay in the west.

Mitford writes that at the time, a large number of palisades, storehouses and toll gates were being constructed in an area selected for foreign residents.  However the construction itself was premature and so it would be necessary to wait until the ambassadors of various countries arrived to take up lodgings. One particular problem concerned the palisades, about which there were many opinions. They were regarded as an inappropriate indication of government intent vis-a-vis the promotion of interaction between East and West.   

Mitford writes that on the 7th of December, a number of officials under instruction from the Shogun met up with Mitford and Satow before they returned to Edo. According to the information they shared with the British diplomats, the resignation of the Shogun was no more than the implementation of an earlier plan and so was not that significant.  Neither Mitford nor Satow believed this.  They remained convinced that this (the resignation of the Shogun) was the result of the uncompromising attitude of the nobility.

On the 12th of December, Mitford and Satow headed to Hyōgo in order to see for themselves what preparations had been completed. Mitford writes that there was a lot of excitement in the air fuelled by expectations around the opening of the port.  The town of Kobe, which had been selected for foreign settlement, had been celebrating for several days, and people dressed in layers of red clothing had been accompanying the carts transporting soil up to the new settlement area.  Expectations were that this festival would be repeated in places throughout Hyōgo province. It was clear that the people of the province believed that foreign trade would contribute to their prosperity.     

When both diplomats returned to Osaka on the 13th of December, the town was abuzz with joy and excitement. Recently slips of paper on which the name of Ise Shrine was written had fallen, somewhat miraculously, like rain from the sky. Mitford explains that Ise Shrine was the largest Shintō shrine in existence and had continued its traditions for generations. He explains that a thousand or so people, in celebration at this event, donned vibrant clothing of red and blue, raised red lanterns, and danced about shouting “eejanaika, eejanaika! (Isn’t it grand?!)” as loudly as they could.  Every house had objects placed in front of them, namely multi-coloured candy, mandarins, silk purses, rope normally found out the front of shrines, and flowers.  Mitford writes that it was an extraordinary sight, and one that he was unlikely ever to see again.   For the two British diplomats, these events were like the old fables of Stonehenge. In the case of Japan, while it had traditions of great antiquity, somehow they still appeared to be alive. Mitford says that there is a famous quote which states “Respect for the past has the same importance for humanity as filial piety”. Mitford writes that in the depraved world he was living in, he was fond of quoting these words.

Mitford then writes that Westerners had lost much of the “spirit of Japan” shown by the Japanese, regarding this as noteworthy. He said the basis of this spirit lay in the legends of the Shintō faith. This was why the common peasant could express such joy at bits of paper falling out of the sky and danced as he liked in the manner of David before the Ark of the Covenant, knowing that this was imbued with a meaning drawn from the sacred traditions of old. The peasant believed the world should bow in admiration of acts based on such traditions, which were, in his eyes, ‘heroic’.  

Mitford writes that as soon as he and Satow returned to Osaka, the same hoary old political arguments started up again. Satsuma, Chōshū, Tosa, Uwajima, and Aki had joined together to demand reforms. Other daimyo had indicated that they would join this movement, although there was still a lot of prevaricating going on. Mitford and Satow realized was that if the conspiracy currently underway in Kyoto failed in its purpose, then these daimyo would likely go back to attacking and killing foreigners as before. Mitford did not believe that this was because they disliked interacting with foreigners, for many were in favour of maintaining foreign relations, but because they wanted to cause friction between the Bakufu and the various treaty nations. The Bakufu, lacking the power to be able to discipline any culprits responsible for instigating such crimes, would then simply claim that it could not take responsibility for these incidents.    

Mitford believed that the assembly of leaders of the reform movement from the various western provinces in Osaka, itself located close to Kyoto, held great significance. One of those leaders was the famous Saigo Takamori of Satsuma, who thereafter would get caught up in a rebellion in that province and eventually commit ritual suicide (seppuku). Another prominent leader was the aforementioned Goto Zōjirō, the same one who explained to Mitford and Satow about the plan to assassinate them in Ōtsu. A letter from Yamauchi Yōdō also carried a nuance that suggested that the downfall of the Bakufu was a fait accompli. On the 20th, Mitford and Satow had their first meeting with Ito Shunsuke (Hirobumi). At the time he was a relatively minor figure, but in time he would become a politician and take hold of the highest seat of power in Japan. Ito told both British diplomats that it looked as though it would be difficult to avoid conflict, but it was being done in order to bring peace to the land. To achieve this, it would be necessary to seize some of the vast tracts of land currently held by the Tokugawa family. Ito believed that it would be better to extend the time between the arrival of the foreign delegations and the opening of the trade port. He was told, however, that this was out of the question. Ito then said that in order to placate the foreigners it would be best to open the port, but the reformers would continue in their plan to remake Japan’s political system. Mitford and Satow warned Ito that if in the course of implementing the reforms any foreigners were harmed, or if they were planning to reject any of the treaties, then Japan would pay an extremely high price for such actions.

Mitford writes that Ito understood the seriousness of these words, and promised to inform Satow of any activities planned in the cause of the reformers. On the 24th, Ambassador Parkes arrived in Osaka from Edo with a number of staff from the Embassy and lodged in a large manor house located on the reverse side of Osaka Castle and which was falling apart at the time Mitford wrote his memoirs. Mitford was acutely aware that if any conflict between the anti and pro Bakufu forces should break out, then the castle would become a magnet for fighting between the two sides. As such, it was not the safest location to be in, but it met all of the conditions necessary for lodgings. Mitford and Satow were still very much under close observation, and so it was not easy to contact representatives from the reformist side. Mitford writes that the Bakufu’s officials were diligent at their task, however Mitford and Satow were able to deceive them and make their way across the moat around the consul office in the dead of night and link up with friends waiting outside. With them as guides, they would wind their way through the streets to some residence, and there they would spend time chatting. By engaging in such activities, which reminded Mitford of naughty schoolboys making off with apples stolen from a neighbour’s yard, they were able to keep Ambassador Parkes informed of all the comings and goings at the time.

Mitford wrote that the 1st day of January 1868 marked the birth of a new system for Japan. For a number of months, the country had been in a state of unrest similar to a fever. He writes that there were plots, counter-plots, and conspiracies, one of which was touched on earlier, and it would take a few volumes to explain them all.  There was the resignation, or mock resignation, of the Shogun.  And in the vicinity of Kyoto, a military force was gradually growing in strength. The Lord of Chōshū had been forgiven by the Shogun for his transgressions, an act which had infuriated the Lord of Aizu who then resigned as the guardian of the royal palace in the capital.  As will soon become apparent, not all of this information was accurate. Mitford then writes that the cauldron (of the state) was ‘bubbling away’, but the overall peace had not been disturbed.  For the reformist daimyo, they insisted that their goal remained the same – to curb the random application of absolute power by the Shogun.     

Mitford writes that he and his fellow diplomats had a feeling that the dogs of war had been let loose. He explained that the Lord of Satsuma had abolished the old system of councilors, and a proposal had been submitted to create a system of government that resembled a constitutional government with federal ministers and a federal bureaucracy.  He also wrote that he and Satow saw this reform reflected in the advice that they had received from Goto Zōjirō. He wrote that there was strong opposition to the Satsuma plan, and there were many people concerned that this kind of ‘’progressive’ thinking would place the position of the Emperor in jeopardy.  Mitford writes that his (Bakufu) informants told him that the time for debate had ended, and that such actions (by the Lord of Satsuma) would lead to war.  These informants also told Mitford that they believed that the Shogun was doing everything in his power to ensure the continuation of a peaceful nation, even if that required sacrifices. Yet it also obvious to Mitford that the Shogun had already lost the authority to lead.

Events changed in the blink of an eye, and every day brought with it some new development. Rumours also flew about at a horrible speed, and while some were true, others distorted the truth and were complete fabrications.  Yet everything appeared to be moving in the same direction.

Mitford writes that on the 7th of January some officials from the Bakufu came to the British delegation in Osaka, where they delivered a message that the Shogun had departed Kyoto and was on his way to Osaka to speak with Ambassador Roche. This was no more than simple word of mouth, but in reality the position of Shogun had ceased to exist and so Yoshinobu had been forced to depart from Kyoto. The troops from Aizu province who had been guarding the nine gates of the Imperial Palace had been dismissed on the orders of the Emperor, and the capital, along with the person of the Emperor, had come under the protection of a coalition of daimyo. It was in this state of affairs that events came to a halt.

Mitford writes that he and Satow decided to venture out from the delegation building in order to judge for themselves what was happening. He noticed that patrols of soldiers had been placed along the main thoroughfares, with primitive cannon sited to fire on anyone who attempted to approach Osaka Castle.  Mitford writes that it was bitterly cold at the time, and many of the soldiers had wrapped their heads up in scarves. When compared with the poor state of their uniforms, they presented an odd appearance.

The troops from Aizu, when asked about the reasons for the departure of the Shogun from the capital, explained that they did not wish to become involved in any fighting in the vicinity of the Imperial Palace. This was, however, a one sided excuse. The army from Satsuma was certainly in favour of conflict and would attempt to resolve all issues by force, whereas the army from Tosa was more logical and its actions reflected that. Their goals were ultimately the same, though.   According to Goto Zōjirō’s study of parliamentary representation, since Japan was in the early throes of industrialization, revolution took place both suddenly and violently.

Mitford writes that by the afternoon, there was every indication that the Shogun’s retinue was approaching Osaka. He soon caught sight of some impressive-looking samurai wearing full sets of armour. They were extraordinarily formal in their actions, and brimmed with an aura of dedication unto death to the Shogun (it was later confirmed that this was indeed no mere show of bravado). Although they had been defeated in battle, hundreds of these Tokugawa soldiers had died a glorious death.  Soon after Mitford heard a bugle blow, and saw that the long lines of troops were headed for the castle.

Mitford then writes that he saw something utterly inconceivable. While a number of foot soldiers carried European rifles, there were a great many foot soldiers wearing traditional Japanese armour, armed with spears, bow and arrow, halberds of various description, short and long swords, and looked as though they had stepped out of one of those medieval pictures of battles from the Genpei War.  Their half-sleeve overcoats (jinbaori) were different to those of the messenger officials, with all of the colours indicative of Joseph’s dream coat. They wore terrifying masks of lacquered metal, with fierce looking beards and moustaches attached to them, and from the crown of their helmets black horsehair cascaded down to about waist height.  It was certainly enough to frighten any enemy, for they looked like monsters that had emerged from some nightmare. 

Mitford writes that soon after a column of horse-borne soldiers appeared. All of the Japanese around Mitford and Satow bowed low in deference, and so in line with tradition Mitford and Satow too bowed their heads. In the middle of the mounted retinue, Mitford spotted Lord Yoshinobu, supported by Lord Kuwana and his ally Lord Aizu. They appeared tired and downtrodden, with their heads covered with black cowls, neither looking left nor right, and for all intents trying to remain incognito.  A number of their vassals recognized Mitford and Satow and make some gestures of greeting. According to Mitford, he then saw something that was far more pitiful than anything else he had witnessed up to this point. In keeping with tradition, once the retinue reached the castle gates, all of the retainers save the Shogun dismounted from their horses. Yoshinobu, however, continued on horse through the gates and into the grounds of the castle. It was tragedy that had allowed the castle to fall into the hands of the Tokugawa, and now it was to leave their control.  It was the last time that the Shogun would enter this great, old castle.  And once again, fire would play its cruel role in the fate of the castle.

On the following day Ambassador Parkes endeavoured to arrange a meeting with the Shogun, however this was refused. However Mitford writes that once Parkes heard that Ambassador Roche had been granted an audience, he could not remain silent.  With Satow and Mitford in tow, Parkes demanded to be allowed to meet with the Shogun. The French envoy expressed displeasure at this, yet eventually both sides were granted the same courtesy. What they couldn’t escape was the exchange of criticism and angry words (between Parkes and Roche). The Shogun, or should that be the former Shogun, had lost all of his vitality.  The aristocrats that had met the British delegation in May with such vivaciousness and confidence now looked like completely different people.  The many difficulties, tragedies and humiliations that these men had suffered was plainly etched on their faces. They merely repeated the rather tired excuse that they had left Kyoto out of sense of patriotism and to avoid civil war in the vicinity of the sacred land of the Emperor. They planned on remaining in Osaka, however some told Mitford that they did not know whether they would be attacked there.

As for the state of affairs, they told Mitford that their main goal was to retain control of the Emperor, however Kyoto had been overrun by a group of outlaws against whom they had fought.  They did not exchange any opinions with the diplomats on the political situation (or who had control of the state). The two ambassadors praised the actions of the aristocrats, with Ambassador Roche offering faint praise while Ambassador Parkes spoke in more serious tones. It became clear that these aristocrats could not answer the many questions put to them, and let slip how tired and aggrieved they were. As such, the meeting came to a close without any garnering any further information.

Adventurous travel from Kaga to Osaka (a further continuation of AB Mitford's memoirs of Japan)

Mitford continued his autobiography by stating that after the delegation returned to Edo, he and others engaged in their everyday duties for a few weeks while cursing the heat and mosquitos. At the end of July both he and Ambassador Parkes then decided that they would journey to Ezo (Hokkaido). Mitford says that he travelled on board the HMS Salamis under the command of Sir Henry Keppel, while Ambassador Parkes travelled on the Basilisk under the command of a Captain Hewett. He said that the trip itself was pleasant, but what fascinated him the most was the opportunity to see members of the Ainu people for the first time.  The purpose of the trip to Ezo was to scout for commercial operations along Japan’s western seaboard, in particular any ports or harbours that would be able to support foreign trade.  He says that on the 7th of August Ernest Satow joined the Basilisk, and they were also met by the survey ship Serpent under the command of Captain Brock.  The three ships later dropped anchor in Nanao Bay on the Noto peninsula. He notes that the province of Kaga, in which Nanao Bay was located, was said to be controlled by the wealthiest aristocrats in all of Japan, the family of the Lord of Kaga. 

Mitford noted that Nanao Bay had a small island in it that covered part of the bay. He wrote that Ambassador Parkes said it was more preferable to coastal ports opened up in Niigata with its treacherous sandbanks and thus had value as a potential port for foreign trade. In order to initiate talks with Kaga province, two senior officials from the provincial capital of Kanazawa came to Nanao Bay for discussions. He said that this occurred a little later than planned, and that the meeting itself didn’t happen until the 9th of August (a Friday).  He wrote that Ambassador Parkes endeavoured to impress on the representative of Lord Kaga that it would create a very favourable impression if, like Satsuma, Tosa, and Uwajima, Kaga chose to engage in friendly relations with foreign nations. However this discussion did little to shift the representatives’ position.

The representatives explained that the reason for not opening up Nanao Bay to foreign trade was that if they did this, then the Shogun’s government would seize it and territory which had belonged to Kaga province since time immemorial would be lost. Both representatives repeated their objections many times over, and the more they resisted, the more resolved Ambassador Parkes became to try and win them over. His speech became ever more heated, demanding that if the representatives were going to be so unfriendly, then he would send two of his underlings, in other words Mitford and Satow, to Kanazawa to negotiate directly with the Lord of Kaga. And so a decision was made whereby Mitford and Satow would travel overland and meet up with Ambassador Parkes in Osaka. This proposal was reluctantly accepted by Mitford and Satow, and the meeting with the Kaga representatives thus (on the surface) concluded with the proper decorum.

When news of this meeting reached representatives of the Shogun who had accompanied Captain Brock in order to assist him on his surveying expedition, they flew into an agitated state, saying that such a thing (travelling overland) was completely out of the question.  The excuses they gave for this was that they could not guarantee Mitford and Satow’s safety if they went by land, and moreover they had responsibility for the British diplomats’ safety as representatives of the Shogun.  They also made it clear that the edict that they had received from the Shogun would not guarantee their passage through Kaga and Echizen. However these arguments did nothing to change Ambassador Parkes’ mind. 

Mitford wrote that Ambassador Parkes wanted to gain some knowledge of the western Japanese coastal region, a region into which no foreigner had ever stepped. To that end he urged Satow and Mitford to try and maintain relations with the provincial officials, although it was clear that Satow and Mitford were somewhat nervous about the whole enterprise. The reason for this is when Mitford and Satow went to give their farewells, Captains Keppel and Hewett told them that they were very worried about the dangers facing the two diplomats, and insisted that the reason the plan had been approved was because the British diplomats were unarmed. In response Mitford and Satow said that it was a question of duty, and while they would rather not obey Ambassador Parkes’ directive, they were not embarking on the journey on a whim.

Both Mitford and Satow made landfall in the afternoon, whereupon the Salamis departed in a haze of smoke followed by the Basilisk. Only the Serpent remained in port at anchor. Mitford says that he spent an evening on shore preparing for departure the next day. He says that the officials sent from the shogunate tried to get Mitford and Satow to abandon their trip, but they steadfastly refused to do so. He wrote that these officials were not only useless, they were an impediment. He writes that they were no more than the most junior officials, and they were no help at all in protecting Mitford and Satow. He said they functioned more like spies, intent on ensuring that Mitford and Satow were not able to form any bonds of friendship with the local people. 

Mitford said that he and Satow pointed out that these officials had a duty to remain on board the Serpent under the command of Captain Brock. Mitford also said that he and Satow agreed with the officials that if something bad were to happen to Satow and Mitford, then the officials would not be held responsible for this. He also said that the British delegation received a formal exchange agreement from officials of Kaga province, which stated that when Mitford and Satow were exchanged that they would be returned in the condition that they departed in, namely in one piece and unharmed. After receiving this agreement, Mitford and Satow returned to the Serpent.    

Mitford and Satow set out on the 10th of August, and said that the officials from Kaga province still hadn’t gotten over the shellacking they had received at the hands of Ambassador Parkes the next before, and so were in a bad mood which showed on their faces. Mitford wrote that ‘needless to say’, this meant that he and Satow did not depart lightheartedly. Mitford then wrote that it was not a characteristic of the Japanese to always have a dour look on their faces, and that Ernest Satow’s jovial nature meant the officials weren’t able to maintain their hostility for very long. Very soon these officials formed good relations with Mitford and Satow as their guides.  

Mitford writes that he and Satow prepared a gorgeous palanquin, while Satow’s Japanese servant, a person by the name of Noguchi, and Mitford’s Chinese servant Lin Fu, travelled in a more ordinary palanquin. He writes that around twenty retainers of the Maeda household, carrying dual swords and spears and with the clan flag, acted as security for the trip. He admits that he was not sure whether the escort was just for show or whether it was genuinely meant to protect the delegation. He does admit that it came in useful in clearing the roads of towns and villages and preventing any ruffians from attempting anything. He writes that the days were hot, and that after heading out of town the palanquin he was travelling in began to show its age. As he couldn’t take the discomfort anymore he decided to exit the palanquin and continue on towards the south west on foot. 

He says the scenery he experienced was beautiful, particularly the view of the mountains of Etchū, some of which rose up to around 10,000 feet in height.  He described being surrounded by the uniquely ‘deep green’ forests and woods of Japan, and asks whether any other country possesses such picturesque forests. He describes walking along a sandy beach, whose waters were as blue as the sky itself, and a scene reminiscent of those described in Japan’s ancient tales. Mitford then proceeds to regale readers with a few stories set on the coastal regions of Japan, including the origins of the Suma ‘lute’ (Biwa).

Mitford writes that the heat was oppressive at that time of year, and so he and his fellow travelers would rest at some small tea houses along the way, where they would satisfy their appetites on watermelon and apples. He writes that many of the taverns they visited were very comfortable and the people were kind and friendly.  He notes that the delegation had nothing to complain about from the reception they received from the people of Kaga.

Mitford also writes that the samurai of Kaga were not impetuous like those of Satsuma or Tosa, but neither were they astute strategists like the leaders of Chōshū. The Kaga samurai that Mitford met appeared to be quiet and reserved, and slightly oafish, but wealthy.  The Lord of Kaga, on the other hand, inclined towards being opportunistic, and not only possessed enormous wealth but ruled over some of the most important territory in the land. Mitford writes that the second day of travelling was blessed with tremendous weather, and after passing Takamatsu, the delegation arrived at Tsubata, a picturesque small fishing village on the coast featuring many lodging houses.  There they spent a night in an upper class ryokan, where they were treated to an excellent Japanese meal. At around 7:45 in the morning on Monday, the 12th of August, the delegation departed on the third day of their journey, this time heading for the capital of Kaga province, the town of Kanazawa.  Mitford writes that as they got closer to the capital their retinue continued to grow in size, while their guides became more and more concerned about whether they would be allowed to enter Kanazawa.

Mitford writes that he could make out the white walls of a castle hidden among a thicket of pine trees about a mile in front of the delegation. He explains that because the party had grown sick of being stared at in places such as Osaka, and because they were wearing rough-hewn travelling clothes, they were in no state to maintain the dignity of their status and so took to their travelling palanquins like reluctant brides.  Mitford writes that once again many spectators lined the roads, and at a beautiful rest station that had been prepared for them, plenty of people rushed to look at them. He writes that the spectators were all of different ages and from every social class.  He saw many young women among the spectators, and remarked that the women of Kaga were renowned for their ‘fine proportions’.  After arriving at their lodgings by following along a series of winding roads, they were met with some traditional Japanese hospitality, although on this occasion the reception was more splendid and carried out with great decorum.

Mitford writes that the main living room featured a velvet rug and some brilliantly lacquered red chairs that had been brought in for their use from a nearby temple. Of course, Mitford does admit that the hosts could not have known that Mitford and his travelling companions, having lived in Japan for some time, had gotten used to sitting on the floor. Soon after a messenger arrived from the Lord of Kaga, with word that the Lord of Kaga was worried about the health of the delegation as they had travelled through some oppressive heat, and explained that as the Lord of Kaga himself was feeling unwell he regretted not being able to meet the delegation in person but wanted to send his greetings. As representatives of Ambassador Parkes, the delegates responded by pledging eternal friendship with Japan, and Kaga province in particular.

The messenger then took on the role of host and brought in some delicious looking food, however because the seats that were brought in were very difficult to sit in, they were taken away and the messenger exchanged sake cups with the delegates in a more Japanese manner. Not long after, in case the delegates needed medical attention, a number of medical practitioners from the province were sent for to attend to the delegates. Mitford explains that in those days, traditional Chinese medicines were the norm, with moxibustion and acupuncture considered to be highly effective (although painful). However Mitford writes that neither he nor his companions were prepared for this kind of treatment. They apologised, and offered the explanation that none of them were in ill health. Discussions then turned to politics. Despite the substance of the talks being of the utmost secrecy, given that they were conducted in a manner in which anybody could listen in on them, there was no expectation that any secrets divulged would remain that way.

Mitford writes, however, that he and his companions were mistaken in their preconceptions. It seems that the shogunal government knew that the delegation was there to demand the opening of Nanao Bay to foreign trade and so the officials had no reason to keep anything hidden. What the officials of Kaga told the delegation were arguments that had been repeated since time immemorial. They were certainly well prepared to allow foreign trade, but could not agree to their bay becoming anything more than a place for offloading cargo. They knew that things would not end there, and so they endlessly repeated their major concern that should this come to pass, then the Shogun would seek to control it.

By the time the officials departed, they had developed a close affinity with the delegation, and Satow promised that he would do all he could to establish contact between Edo and Kanazawa. Kaga province was, as previously mentioned, one of the more receptive regions in Japan (to foreign contact), and so the visit was deemed a great success. Satow even considered bringing two retainers from Kaga province back to Edo with him to work as apprentices. Mitford then says that he had heard that two retainers from the province had already been sent as exchange students to England.

After the meeting ended, the delegation headed out for some sightseeing. However Kanazawa was a large town with many hills, punctuated by beautiful trees whose size was no exaggeration. There were around 50,000 residents in the town, which featured many fine shops selling spun silk, lacquerware, and fans. However these goods were not cheap.  Mitford writes that he finally found two or three pieces of lacquerware of great age, and was able to purchase them.  Those pieces were still in Mitford’s possession at the time he wrote his memoirs.

Mitford continues by writing that Kutani was located close to Kanazawa, and so the delegates made it a matter of course to buy two or three of the famous, unusual red coloured pottery. While in Kutani, they found a number of fabulous bookstores. He says the provincial officials that he and the others met were extremely polite and cordial in their demeanour. When evening came, the head official of Kutani requested that the delegation extend its stay and journey to nearby territories. Mitford writes that it was very hard to refuse such an invitation, and so they decided to acquiesce. The following morning, after engaging in some expensive shopping, a result of being unable to resist the temptation to spend a few more of their shillings, the delegation set out on horseback to their next lodgings, a small town called Kanaiwa located 4 miles from Kutani.  The saddles that were strapped to the horses were of a Western style, consisting of a fake leather made from paper, while the bridle was a shabby substitute that had to be seen to be believed. Since the smaller (Japanese) horses had not been shod they were, as per usual, very uncomfortable to ride on. However given (in Mitford’s opinion) that Japan was not a country that was particularly fond of horses, this was unavoidable.

For a journey of five miles, two rest spots had been established for the delegation, the first of which was at Kanaiwa.  After arriving at their destination, Mitford writes that there wasn’t much to look at, with no more than a beach that opened out onto the sea and a small river that flowed through the sand dunes. Mitford admits that he and his traveling companions were hard pressed to figure out why the affable Lord of Kaga had vigorously insisted on bringing them to such a place. The delegation then returned to Kanazawa before dark.  In the evening, two provincial officials visited the delegation where they engaged in general chit chat. When discussions once again turned to the possibility of Nanao Bay being opened up to foreign trade, the tone of discussions became serious, with the officials explaining that acts which would make it appear as though the province was engaging in secret trade was not ideal, and if the Bay was opened up to trade and anticipations were that large volumes of cargo would be exchanged then it would be best to first discuss this with the Bakufu. The delegation then requested that the Lord of Kaga send a document to Edo with such a proposal.

Mitford writes that the conversation then turned to politics in general. In the opinion of the officials, at present they (in principle) had to support the Bakufu but the Bakufu’s authority was extremely limited. The delegation and the officials discussed this topic late into the night, but what they were able to discern was that Kaga province at that time was not bound to follow any fixed policy. It was also obvious that Kaga did not possess any acquaintances with leadership qualities of the sort found in other provinces. Mitford writes that Satow translated into Japanese a letter of appreciation for the reception the delegation had received, and passed this along to the officials. The officials then gave their very polite farewells and departed.

In the morning of the following day, the 14th of August, the delegation departed from Kanazawa, with people asking when they would visit again and bidding them farewell. The delegation then went on their way.  They dropped by the medicinal store run by the father in law of the owner of their lodgings in Kanazawa, who recommended that they buy an excellent medicine known as Shisetsu made from saltpeter and musk and considered a cure-all.  As per usual there were many onlookers, however amid these were appeared to be a number of refined young couples.   Mitford writes that when the delegation arrived at their first rest stop and gazed back on the town that had so warmly welcomed them, the castle, that symbol of the last vestiges of feudalism, and its brilliant white keep were visible, as were the many residences of the townspeople that spread out from below the castle, punctuated by pine trees every now and then. It was a moving scene almost picturesque in its quality, and provided a fond memory of that time in history.  Indeed, Mitford writes that with the passage of time, that memory’s value has only grown, for time eventually makes everything beautiful.      

Mitford writes that the way back from Kaga was marked by many different events. In much the same manner as the time pleasantly spent in Kanazawa, the delegation was met with kindness and cordiality greater than they could have expected.   Mitford says that he was not able to disguise his astonishment at how wealthy (or abundant) this region of Japan was. He writes that the delegation passed through Matsutō, a town of 2,000 residents, and Komatsu, a town with 2,500 residents, but no matter where they went they were blessed to receive the same sort of hospitality they had experienced elsewhere in Kaga province.  He also writes that he never saw people so happy as those he met in Kaga province.

Mitford writes that on the 15th, the delegation arrived at the border with Echizen province, where they were met by some minor officials from that province (a point which angered the officials that had accompanied them from Kaga). The Kaga officials then had the Echizen officials complete a “letter of guarantee” to receive the delegation into their care. Mitford himself says that he would have liked to have seen this document, as he had suspicions as to what was actually written in it, probably something along the lines of “I hereby receive, without injury to their person, two officials from the Kingdom of Great Britain”. He writes that the Echizen officials made preparations to meet the delegation and had expended quite a bit of their finances in order to do so. However Mitford writes that it soon became evident that the delegates shouldn’t expect any real friendship from such officials.

Mitford writes that the Echizen officials wore smart clothing, of a sort that reminded Mitford of some of the youths depicted in the fable of the Jackdaw (i.e., infant crow) of Rheims (a poem by Richard Harris Barham, i.e Thomas Ingoldsby, a late eighteenth century – early nineteenth century English poet, concerning a crow that steals a ring from the cardinal of Rheims). The officials certainly did their best to help cool the delegation down using fans to ward of the midday heat, but did not show the delegation any further deference. Mitford writes that the capital of Echizen province, Fukui, featured excellent lodgings belonging to the Honganji sect. However Mitford writes that rather than gathering together people of good upbringing to meet them, the halls of the lodgings were filled with gawking spectators who looked upon the delegation as if they were gorillas.

At the time the Lord of Echizen was well known for having a strong aversion to interacting with foreigners, and it appears that such an attitude was reflected in the behavior of the commoners of Echizen province.  On the 17th the delegation crossed the Echizen border, and were glad to be able to farewell the hostile, curmudgeonly people of that province. Very soon they were met by an official send as a representative of Ii Kamon no Kami (Ii Naonori), who received the delegations official letter of guarantee. On the following day the delegation arrived at Nagahama, a location that Ambassador Parkes had visited in May. The effect of that earlier visit meant that the delegates were not looked upon as some sort of curiosity, and there were virtually no restrictions placed on their interaction with residents, something for which Mitford was particularly glad. 
  
18 members of the Betsu-te-gumi had arrived to meet the delegation in order to provide their security detail, the sum effect of which was to rob the journey of most of its enjoyments.  The reason for this was that any friendly interaction that the delegates might have with the local people would be monitored by these Bakufu officials, thus making such interaction out of the question.  At a ‘toll gate’ established at a place called Yanagi-ga-se, which was a fenced-off area on the border, the delegates learned of the odd system that oversaw these toll gates. Apparently any women who did not hold an access pass would not be able to pass through the toll gate. It was as if these women had no rights at all.  

On the 20th of August the delegation arrived at the town of Kusazu, and it was decided that the delegation would rest during the afternoon so that they could compile a report of their journey so far.  Mitford writes that he and Satow had managed to accumulate a large amount of information concerning politics and commerce. This might seem antiquated after the passage of half a century in which so many incidents had taken place, but at the time compiling reports was considered to be fascinating work and so a fair bit of time would be dedicated to putting them together. Mitford writes that he met a few samurai acquaintances of Satow, and after dinner and late into the night, they engaged in the usual discussion of politics.

However the discussions with the Bakufu officials proved dull, and so there was a tendency to discuss more frivolous things.  What was of particular interest, and which later proved to be fortuitous, was the discussion on the road the delegation would take the next day.  The delegation had decided that they would go via a small village on the edge of Lake Biwa, pass through the town of Ōtsu, and then head in the direction of Osaka. However the Japanese officials, after pointing out the difficulties that such a route would encompass, were resolved to prevent the delegation from heading to Ōtsu. It was plainly evident that the reason for this was because that road lay too close to the ‘sacred capital’ of Kyoto. Instead the officials offered to show the delegates the famous temple of Ishiyama-dera, which had previously been excluded even to Ambassador Parkes. 

Mitford says that he and Satow insisted on their plan, with Satow holding many reservations about the enthusiasm the officials displayed for partaking in sight-seeing and sought to discover their true intentions. The owner of the lodging house (another official) that the delegation were in then took them aside and said the following. “If you two are really interested in obtaining trade information, then you should go and look at the famous tea plantations at Uji. I can assure you that you will be more interested in that, for there is nothing to see in Ōtsu”.  However neither Mitford nor Satow would be dissuaded in their plan, and told the officials accompanying them that they would take the shortest route to Osaka via Ōtsu. They said that they knew what the officials were trying to do, and said that they knew that these officials had been sent to try and fool them. They then said that if the officials spoke honestly then Mitford and Satow might understand their reasoning, but as it was they had no choice but to refuse the officials’ advice.  After hearing this the officials appeared to be somewhat downhearted, but soon changed tactics and continued their assault.

Mitford was not to be outdone and changed tactics himself. He suggested to the officials that if they would clearly put down in writing their reasons for wanting to change the route, then he and Satow would go via Uji. However if they didn’t, then they would proceed via Ōtsu despite the dangers it might present.  The officials voiced some objections to this, but in the end agreed to do this and withdrew to a separate room to write the document. The document itself, which was over three pages in length, stated that the delegation's journey had not received permission from the Bakufu. In response Satow and Mitford claimed special privileges as diplomats, and they wanted to avoid the situation where any denial of this would lead to confusion. The letter that eventuated in response to this said that when Ambassador Parkes had travelled through Ōtsu in May this had been done at significant risk, and so this time around the Bakufu wanted the diplomats to consider going via Uji. It was a hard fought battle, but  the delegation was eventually persuaded to change their route.

Mitford writes that in relation to these late night negotiations in Kusazu, when one looks at the conclusion, he would like the reader to understand that although lengthy, he wrote no more than what was necessary to relay the details of the negotiations.  

Two days later, after arriving in Osaka, Satow’s servant Noguchi headed out on the town. After entering a tea house, he overheard a conversation by a group of samurai from Tosa province in the next booth over, who expressed their disappointment that they had missed an opportunity to kill two foreigners who had ‘defiled’ the land close to the ‘sacred capital’ the day before. Apparently samurai from the provinces of Tosa, Satsuma, and Chōshū had gathered together and formed a gang of around 400 in number and had been lying in wait for the delegation. If the delegation had insisted on following their original plan and taken the road through Ōtsu, then they would most certainly have been assassinated.  As such they had “managed to escape a certain fate by a hair’s breadth”.  Mitford writes that the funny thing about all this was that the Bakufu officials, by convincing the delegation to change their route through their tortuous objections, had saved the delegation’s lives but remained completely ignorant of this fact.

A few weeks’ later Mitford writes that he heard a conversation from Goto Zōjirō who backed up Noguchi’s story in full. Goto said that at the time he had been the officer on watch of the Lord of Tosa’s residence in Kyoto and got wind of the plan. He then did everything in his power to prevent it from happening. However the samurai who were planning to attack the delegation burned with a fierce hatred of foreigners and so had left the residence (to carry out their attack). Mitford writes that Goto’s name would hereafter appear more frequently in his memoirs, as he was one of Mitford’s good friends in Japan. In the following year, when a delegation of British diplomats was on its way to an audience with the Emperor, some of the diplomats had come under attack, and it was Goto who risked life and limb to rescue them.

On the 21st of August, Mitford writes that the delegation departed from Kusazu at around 5:45 in the morning after enduring an oppressively hot night.  Mitford writes that either because of the mosquitos or the negotiations that carried on late into the night, he had hardly slept a wink. He also says that for a day or two he had not eaten anything other than O-chazuke (a type of rice soup infused with tea), and so had not been able to eat his full. He goes on to explain that when the Japanese eat rice, they use a type of medicine said to encourage appetite which has a sharp, salty flavour much like brine but which the delegates found totally inedible.   Mitford further explained that during the journey he and Satow sometimes used boats to cross rivers, and walked certain sections, and from time to time stopped to admire the spectacular views of the vast plains area – the area where Kyoto and Fushimi were located, and which held special significance as the scene of civil war - and eventually arrived in Uji at about 4 in the afternoon. He writes that it was an exhausting day made worse by the oppressive heat.

Mitford then writes that in the evening of the previous day, the delegates had been led astray by the words of the Bakufu officials. They found that the famed Ishiyama-dera’s doors (the temple the Bakufu officials had promised was worth detouring from Ōtsu to see) were shut tight and no amount of knocking could prompt a response from those within.  Mitford writes that seven years later while journeying on a steam ship across the Pacific, he met a Japanese citizen who, by complete coincidence, had been in the area at the time and seen the delegation repeat over and over their futile knocking on the temple door.   

Mitford writes that as expected, he bought some of the famous Uji tea. The delegation then boarded a smartly decked out house boat at around 6 in the evening, and proceeded to watch the beautiful scenery drift by while resting on board. Soon afterwards Mitford fell asleep.

When he awoke at around 5:30 in the morning of the 22nd of August, he could see the magnificent keep of Osaka Castle, and made landfall at about 6am.  The delegation then made their way to an old temple in Nakadera-machi, which would serve as their lodging house. It was here that the delegation’s 11 day adventure tour came to an end.  It had certainly been extraordinarily interesting and suspenseful journey, with Mitford admitting that he had no idea what would happen during it.  When going to sleep at night he gave thanks that he had not met any misfortune, and upon waking up in the morning checked that he was in fact still alive. Throughout the nation there were fanatical bands of rōnin that despised foreigners, and Mitford writes that the good friends that they had made while in Kaga province would not have been able to protect them should they come under attack.  However the journey ended without incident, and the Ambassador successfully received all of information that he desired.

Unfortunately a tragedy preceded the delegation's arrived in Osaka. News that two sailors from the HMS Icarus had been butchered reached Ambassador Parkes at around 5pm (presumably on the same day). Apparently they had the misfortune to encounter a gang of hotheaded young samurai, and had been literally cut to pieces. The terrible fate that befell these two unfortunate fellows served as a vivid reminder of the very danger that could have befallen Mitford and Satow.

Mitford writes that as a result of repeated dialogue and conversations in relation to this incident, they realized that they had erred and the situation surrounding the assassination was more complicated than first thought.  At first, suspicion fell on samurai from Tosa province. This particular suspicion stemmed from the fact that the day after the assassination, a small sailing boat and steamer registered to Tosa province had departed from Nagasaki before daylight. Yet it was later determined that the perpetrators were from a completely different province and that thereafter they would receive punishment. By this time the main perpetrator had, however, already committed seppuku and died.  

It was through discussions held at the time that Mitford became well acquainted with Goto Zōjirō, and that his respect for Goto only grew in stature. As a representative of his province, he already possessed first-class capabilities, for which proof was in abundance. In discussions he had shown great forbearance in defending his position while explaining matters to Britain’s difficult and short-tempered ambassador. Goto was certainly one of three, possibly four people of ability who would go on to provide the impetus for the Meiji Restoration. Like the famous Saigo Takamori of Satsuma and leaders from other provinces, he would play a pivotal role in advocating for the formation of a parliamentary system, particularly the upper house, although this process would not take place for another 18 months. 

Mitford writes that one of the fortunate things about Japan was that the role of speaking in public was different to that of other countries. The role of members within the constitutional parliament was not, in fact, detailed in the constitution. As such, rather than being a solemn gathering, meetings of the parliament were more like debating society events at one of England’s private schools.  While members could voice their opinions, they could not propose legislation.  Mitford continues by saying that on the 31st of August (1867), he and Satow were invited by the Lord of Awa to visit his castle in Shikoku. Shikoku at the time was divided up into the four provinces of Awa, Tosa, Sanuki, and Iyo, which is why the Lord of Awa bore that name.  If the journey had originally gone as planned, then Mitford and Satow would have been able to learn about the nature of the other three provinces while exchanging cups of sake with the Lord of Awa while also gathering more details on other leaders within Shikoku. However luck was not with them. Ambassador Parkes, together with other members of the executive, decided that they would go to Awa themselves on board the Salamis and Basilisk, and so any plans of an expedition to Awa went out the window, to be replaced by no more than a form of courtesy visit.

Mitford writes that such visits were replete with old political clichés, with both sides refraining from telling the truth about their situation. As a consequence, discussions would be held for no purpose, which would produce a despondent mood occasionally alleviated by talking about the weather. Mitford writes, however, that the Lord of Awa was an extremely kind and proper gentleman, who prepared quite a spectacular performance for the visiting delegates which was performed to great effect by his retainers. The Lord of Awa himself spent his time in his private residence dressed in his elaborate pleated trousers (hakama), but contrary to the times did not wear an eboshi hat.

The first theatre performance was put on by a troupe of 3 people consisting of a lord, his messenger, and a member of the audience, and was particularly amusing.  The lord orders his messenger to copy his every action, which the messenger dutifully obeys by delivering his lines to the audience member in the same manner as the lord. When the lord grows angry at the messenger for doing this and lightly slaps him on the head, the messenger then directs this anger at the audience member and slaps him on the head.  This pantomime then escalates in ever increasing levels of horseplay, until the finale when the lord, fed up with the whole matter, kicks the messenger off stage.

The next act could be described as an Oriental version of the comic Offenbach opera “The Two Blind Men”.  A certain wealthy man makes it clear that he wants to hire someone who from birth has been blind, deaf, and disabled. In response to this, he receives a visit from a man whose legs are disabled, another man who cannot speak, and a blind man. Mitford writes that these roles were particularly well performed by the Lord of Awa’s retainers. These three men are in fact inveterate gamblers, down on their luck, and so have disguised themselves as beggars. The wealthier man hires all three beggars, and assigns to each one to look after a warehouse each while he is away.  The three beggars, knowing each other’s true identity, then discuss going to the warehouse where the sake is stored to drink their fill, and then going to the warehouse where mountains of gold can be divided up between them.

As expected, once they go to the first warehouse they get absolutely plastered, so much so that when their employer returns they forget which disabilities they were supposed to have. Hence the man who supposedly cannot see suddenly can’t talk, the man who can’t walk suddenly can’t see, and the man who can’t speak suddenly can’t hear.  Mitford found the point in the act where their true identity as fraudsters was revealed to be very amusing.

After the plays finished everyone moved on to dinner, and the more Sake that was passed around the more lively everyone became.  Mitford writes that the Lord of Awa said that he was the son of the previous governor of the province and an ‘elder brother’ (in terms of social relationships in a hierarchical society) to Ambassador Parkes. He also claimed that his eldest son, Awaji no Kami, was good friends with Ernest Satow.  Mitford writes that on the following morning, he and the other delegates conducted an inspection of the provincial guard, who numbered around 500 but dressed in what could only be described as somewhat shabby Western clothes.  Some of the guard wore boots, while others didn’t.  Those wearing boots were terribly proud of themselves, like dandies walking about with wisteria canes while puffing away on amber leaf tobacco.    

That evening Mitford together with the Lord of Awa boarded the Salamis in order to head back to Edo. However in order to investigate the circumstances surrounding the assassination of the two sailors from the Icarus, it had been decided that Ambassador Parkes and Satow would head for Susaki in Tosa province.  Mitford writes that as explained earlier, the people of Tosa had been proven innocent of any complicity in the deaths of the sailors, but were uncompromising in their attitudes. Satow paid a visit to Yamauchi Yōdō (Toyoshige), who despite being retired in name by that time was still very much the ruler of the province. Yamauchi told Satow that if he knew of any Tosa samurai that had been involved in the assassination then he would swiftly punish them, but if they were innocent, then he would not change his mind regarding them no matter what the circumstances were. Goto (Zōjirō) then cautioned Ambassador Parkes that if he threw a tantrum at this point then he (Zōjirō) might take leave of reason (implying he might have to physically restrain Parkes). As a consequence, Parkes was apparently much more subdued.

Mitford writes that the Japanese take it as a matter of course to maintain one’s dignity, and while they might have a number of other faults, they were in essence gentlemen.  Making threats would not, by themselves, result in success. A person of the caliber of Ambassador Parkes had not learned this lesson, and so it proved a weak point at times like this.

Satow thereafter made his way to Nagasaki where he remained until the 7th of November, and so Mitford make his way back to Edo, to a small temple known as Monryōin (門良院), where he spent time living by himself.  In order to take precautions, Mitford writes that he scattered cockle shells on the paths leading through the garden so that if any uninvited guests suddenly turned up in the dead of night, their footsteps would serve as an alarm system. One evening at around 12 midnight, Mitford’s ‘fail-safe’ alarm system proved its worth, and he awoke to the sound of crunching footsteps. Mitford flew out of bed, and after lighting a lamp and candle, woke up his trusted servant Lin Fu and handed him a sword and pistol while Mitford himself grabbed his Spencer pistol. The two of them then made their way to the front entrance and waited. Whomever these rogues were, they soon caught sight of Mitford and Lin Fu’s armed figures and quickly fled. Mitford writes that he later found out that around 5 or 6 persons had made their way into the garden. The reason he knew this is because it had been raining hard the night before and the following morning he was able to discern tracks left by the culprits, some of whom had slipped on the grass on the small hill the temple was located on. They had thus left imprints of their backsides or left deep footprints after skidding to a halt. Mitford found the whole experience unnerving.

Mitford then writes that the house he was living in was located in an area that was well known for fighting among rival families (or gangs), and just like some of the laneways of old Edinburgh, it was located too close to the drinking houses of the ‘notorious’ Shinagawa district. These establishments sometimes served as ‘hideouts’ for gangs made up of violent xenophobes.

Mitford then proceeds to detail an incident that took place near his lodgings. One morning, after exiting his house in order to make his way to the British Embassy, the body of a slain samurai lay in a pool of blood in front of the entrance gate to his residence. A straw mat had been placed over the body, however it was obvious that it was missing its head. Apparently in the course of following some sort of strict precepts on revenge, an acquaintance of someone killed in an earlier fight by the victim now lying in front of Mitford’s gate had dragged the victim’s body there to display it in front of his friend’s grave (noting that Mitford was living in the grounds of a temple at the time).   

The Japanese of Edo, just before the Meiji Restoration and a mere 48 years before Mitford wrote his memoirs, looked upon such events as an everyday occurrence.   

While on the surface there didn’t appear to be any sort of major shift in politics occurring, underneath a silent revolution had begun and was growing in strength. The Shogun would ultimately resign from his position, although the truth was that his position had been abolished.  Nevertheless Yoshinobu continued to exercise his authority with all of its in-built contradictions and would go on to head the Tokugawa household. Rumour had it that the daimyo of Satsuma, Chōshū, and Tosa, after appointing themselves leaders, were preparing for armed insurrection. It was said that they had even established an anti-Bakufu camp in Osaka. 

Retainers from Tosa province said that when the Shogun resigned his authority in October (of 1867), they were doing no more than acting in accordance with a white paper produced by their province. They later showed this paper to Satow. Mitford writes that some of the more outstanding features of this paper was its outline of a bicameral system of government based on upper and lower houses, the creation of schools in major cities to teach science and more general knowledge, and the negotiation of new treaties with foreign countries. Messengers from the daimyo of the above provinces had then been sent to the British Embassy to entreat the diplomats on the process of forming a national parliament (or Diet). They were, in Mitford’s view, clearly prepared to do everything they could to be considered equal to the British.

An audience with the Shogun (a continuation of last week's post on memoirs from A.B Mitford)

Mitford states that the political situation in Japan underwent a profound change at the beginning of 1867. It was clear that some form of activity was going on in the background as factions competed for influence. The death of Shogun Tokugawa Iemochi on the 29th of August brought things to a head, and the seventh son of the Lord of Mito, Tokugawa Yoshinobu, was appointed to that position through the plotting of ministers from than province. Yoshinobu wasted no time in calling for the combined representatives of foreign lands to an audience with him in Osaka. Mitford states that Osaka at the time was a fairly non-descript town with a myriad of rivers and canals, and had previously been an important focal point of trade. He said that it was referred to as “The Venice of the East”, although in reality there was little to lend credence to that title apart from the abundance of water channels around the town. Mitford wrote that he and Satow were dispatched to Osaka by warship in the first week of February in order to make preparations for the reception ceremony and learn what protocols would be used. Mitford and Satow were accompanied on their journey to the West by a Captain Cardew from the 2/9th Regiment and a Danish Lieutenant by the name of Thalbitzer.  They landed at Hyogo, and then made their way to Osaka by horse.  In addition to a large number of guards provided for their security, a number of troops were placed at various points along the route. Every time they passed through a check point, these troops would follow behind them, so that by the time they reached their destination they had around 2 or 3 thousand followers.  Mitford said that this was ‘good evidence’ of how seriously the government took their safety. When they reached Osaka, they learned that the Emperor Kōmei had passed away on the 3rd of February from smallpox.  He had actually died on the 30th of January, yet for some inexplicable reason the date of death had been postponed by four days. Kōmei’s successor, the famous Emperor Mutsuhito (Meiji), was but a youth of fifteen at the time.

Those who knew the young Emperor had deep trust in his abilities, and predicted that an appropriate education and training would result in a person of extraordinary ability, and in that they were absolutely correct. Mitford was convinced that if the Emperor Kōmei had lived, given he was avidly opposed to any interaction with foreigners, the events of the next couple of months would have been completely different.

When they arrived in Osaka, they lodged at a small but comfortable temple located on the Teramachi way.  There they were welcomed and were treated with deference, which made their task easier as their every want and need was met. They also became something of a curiosity, and so the roads around their lodgings were packed with spectators, to the extent that they had trouble passing along the streets. Most of the major merchants in Osaka set up stalls in the roads around the temple and proceeded to sell fruit, confectionary, and cheap knickknacks, and Mitford noted that travelers in the early 20th century found this hard to believe.

Mitford admitted that the principal reason for the visit to Osaka was ostensibly to participate in an audience with the Shogun together with other foreign representatives, however Ambassador Parkes also believed it was a fantastic opportunity to gather information about the political situation in Kyoto.  He says that this trip was where he first met many of those leaders of various provinces who in the future would play such a large role in the formation of the modern Japanese state. 

Mitford mentioned that most Bakufu supporters in Kyoto were from Mito province, and were prepared to sacrifice themselves on behalf of the Shōgun. Their opponents were messengers from Satsuma, Chōshū, Tosa, and Uwajima, all of whom were resolved to bring about the removal of the shōgunate.  Mitford says that the English delegation was kept well informed of plot activity in Kyoto, although most of those who passed information to them had, by the time the memoirs were written, died.  While in Osaka, he met almost daily with Komatsu Tatewaki from Satsuma, Lord Ito from Chōshū, and the most impressive of the bunch, Goto Shōjiro from Tosa province. Each one of these men and others would play pivotal roles in the formation of the Meiji state. Mitford also says that he and others in the delegation had to take every precaution when they went to meet with these men. They would be accompanied by troops who were there ‘for their protection’. However the delegates managed to slip their guards and meet with province representatives on their own (this occurred at least twice).

Mitford said that one of the consequences of these meetings would have a profound effect on what would later occur in Japan’s history.  He said that the goal of the Lord of Satsuma, along with other daimyo, was not to overthrow the shōgunate but to prevent the misuse of its authority.  Satsuma wanted to restore the imperial household to its former glory, as it would contribute to stabilizing the nation. As such, Satsuma’s purpose was not to incite a revolution against the Shogun but to act for the benefit of the nation. The Lord of Satsuma had suggested that should the British ambassador come to Osaka and propose a new treaty directly with the Emperor, all of the daimyo would support the proposal. In order to realise this plan, it would be necessary for everyone to gather in Kyoto. Hence if the ambassador lent the daimyo just a fraction of his authority, the daimyo would take responsibility for everything that happened thereafter.  It was an audacious plan, and if it had occurred just a few months later, it would have been subject to ridicule. 

Mitford writes that while he was in Osaka he and others in the delegation took the opportunity to go shopping, and that he planned to purchase some famous goods and return with them to Yokohama. He mentions that lacquerware was popular, along with pipes of various shapes and sizes, fans, and textiles, all of which were difficult to resist purchasing. He says that wherever he and the other delegates walked, they would be followed by a large crowd. They were accompanied by a minor official with a wakizashi (short sword), who would make a noise like a bird (probably a crow) in order to clear a path for the delegates.  However the curiosity of the crowd was too great and they would continue to follow the delegates and wouldn’t be dispersed so easily.

Mitford then says that after returning to Edo from Osaka, a tragedy unfolded at the mission while they were away.  He says that many of their acquaintances (presumably among the foreign community) were never able to rid themselves of the fear that they would be attacked by some ‘rogues’ as they wandered along the streets of Edo. Many rogues had become more audacious in their provocations at foreigners, and would often make a display of unsheathing their swords and waiving them around, indicating that they could cut someone in half from their shoulder to their waist. The foreign population in Edo knew of this, and so were taught to shoot to kill anyone who approached them with a sword drawn even an inch out of its scabbard. Mitford writes that the interpreting students (presumably from England) at the mission were also frightened both day and night at the thought of meeting an unfortunate end. They would not venture out from the mission, and even though they were protected in the mission by members of the 9th Regiment and a great many other guards, pleaded with the ambassador to have an Armstrong cannon brought out from Britain and placed at the gate of the mission for its protection.  

One evening, one of these youths could no longer handle the strain. After having dinner with some of his friends, he returned to his room, from which two shots were heard. The first shot had apparently failed to hit its mark because the man was shaking so much, and the bullet from that shot was later found in the ceiling of his room.  The second shot, however, proved fatal. Mitford writes that suicide is certainly not a contagious disease, yet in the same week another two such incidents took place in Yokohama. Mitford says that it is difficult for people to understand the type of life he and others had to live during the early days of interaction with Japan, but notes that for four years he kept a loaded pistol on the desk that he used to write at. He also says that he would always have a Spencer revolver in one hand and a bayonet in the other when he returned to his bedroom at night and which would lie close by as he slept. He says the fact that anybody can now walk the streets of Kyoto and Edo (Tokyo) while twirling a cane just like they were walking along Regent Street or Piccadilly is a blessing that owes a debt of gratitude to the law that banned the wearing of swords.

Mitford writes that in May of 1867, Ambassador Parkes and he travelled to Osaka for their first audience with the Shogun. Osaka Castle was, as much as it was in Mitford’s day, and as long as you were looking at it from the outside, a large museum to the feudal age and the crowning glory of the last days of Toyotomi Hideyoshi.  Mitford then goes into a bit of historical detail regarding Hideyoshi, and expresses admiration for the way in which its stone walls had been constructed using massive stones piled on top of one another but without using any sort of adhesive.  He writes that the castle was surrounded by a moat, and protected on two sides by Yodogawa and Kashiwara-gawa. He noted that the stone walls were over 30 feet long and 20 feet high and were beautiful in their simplicity. He said the castle had been attacked by bow and arrow and firearms, but had withstood them all. He then goes into how Hideyori succeeded Hideyoshi, only to be eventually overthrown by Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Mitford writes that the audience with the Shogun took place within Osaka Castle.  It was an event that is likely never to be seen again. The position of Shogun was thereafter abolished and became another part of Japan’s distant past. When Mitford wrote his memoirs, the last Shogun, Yoshinobu, had died some months earlier, and the castle was no longer its former self.  He wrote that the outer walls were the same, but the interior palaces had been burned down by Bakufu forces in the aftermath of the battles of Toba and Fushimi. These underlings had returned to the castle after fighting for the Bakufu only to find that their leader had fled to Edo, and so harboured a deep resentment towards the Shogun thereafter. 

Mitford writes that this must have caused great angst among the retainers and allies of the Tokugawa household. However Mitford then reminds the reader that history does not follow set patterns, and that relying his own memory meant that he was writing things down as he recalled them, zigging and zagging backwards and forwards in time. He writes that the defeated Shogun returned to Edo safely to the castle of his ancestors. One of his younger retainers, Hori Kuranokami, in order to erase the dishonor to the Shogun’s name, suggested that Yoshinobu commit ritual suicide. In order to prove his sincerity, Hori announced that he would commit ritual suicide first.  Yoshinobu’s reaction was unexpected, however. He burst out laughing, saying that such a barbaric practice was outdated. Hori then reluctantly bowed and withdrew to an adjoining room. There he bared his chest down to his abdomen, and proceeded to die ‘like a warrior’ by cutting open his abdomen. Mitford says that Yoshinobu’s error was to assume that the ‘barbaric’ practice of ‘belly cutting’ was outdated. He says that even in the early 20th century, it was used as a way to retain one’s honour.

Mitford says that Saigo Takamori, whom he had known for a long time and was one of the leading figures from Satsuma, had died in such a manner during the rebellion of 1877.  He said another hero of the treaty ports area, his long-time friend Nogi Maresuke, had committed suicide two years earlier in 1913. Nogi was deeply affected by the death of his beloved lord Emperor Mutsuhito, and so together with his loyal wife, chose to follow the Emperor into eternity.  

Mitford then writes that he and Ambassador Parkes had three audiences with the Shogun. The first meeting was private, and as expected, proved to be the most interesting of the meetings. This was not only because it was a new experience, it was also because it allowed for a free exchange of opinions that would not have otherwise happened in a public ceremony. The Bakufu had a number of high officials who had been dispatched for the occasion, while the British delegation had 17 mounted troopers in splendid uniforms from the London Metropolitan Police Force, along with a squad of troops from the 9th Regiment for protection.  They were also protected by a number of Japanese guards. The entire retinue headed by horseback towards the castle. Mitford notes that every Japanese citizen they met along the way, whether of high or low status, got off their horses in deference to the delegation.

The delegation itself did not dismount from their horses until they reached the gates in front of a broad square attached to the inner palace. This building was the same as the outer walls and moats albeit smaller, and had its own moat. They were met by a number of high officials and then taken to a waiting room where they enjoyed tea and light refreshments. Mitford then quotes from a letter he wrote on the 6th of May 1867 which described the audience with the Shogun.  

The interior of the castle was much more gorgeous than any Japanese building he had seen up until that point. The walls were covered in gold-leaf, and featured depictions of trees, flowers, and birds all painted in exquisite detail by a painter of the Kanō school.  Mats weaved from rush reeds were affixed to right-angled hooks plated in gold, and on these large weavings were laid out decorated in orange, red and black silk, similar to a gypsy’s ribbon. The upper section of the room was decorated in the height of Japanese wood carving technology, of a type comparable to Grinling Gibbons (a 17th century British wood sculptor originally from the Netherlands and considered one of the greatest wood sculptors of his age), generously decorated in gold flake, and set within a deeply carved board. Each of these boards had been carved by a different master, and no two boards were alike.  The theme of each of these pictures varied, but were made to emphasize beauty, such as a strutting phoenix, cranes, a softly coloured but gorgeous collection of rhododendrons, bamboo whose leaves were being gently blown by a breeze, and an aged black pine tree. The pillars and sidings in the room were made of unfinished Japanese zelkova, fastened into place using gold plated pegs. The ceiling was divided into square shaped sections, each with its own carvings, and each of these was coloured in a deep gold lacquer. The sections between each square were also lacquered in gold or black. 

Mitford says that while the effect was certainly gorgeous, it wasn’t without its faults. That was because after 200 years the sharpness of the pictures had dulled somewhat.

While waiting in the first room, Mitford and the ambassador spent time with high officials doing what most people do to pass the time – talking about the weather.  After that they were escorted to the meeting room. This room had been laid out in a Western fashion, with 8 seats arranged around a table. At one end of the table was the chair for the Shogun, an impressive lacquered piece of furniture. They were met in that room by senior and junior retainers of the Shogun, where they received word that he would soon come to meet them. Some high sliding doors that divided up the Japanese room they were in silently slid left and right, and an atmosphere of excited tension filled the room, much like an audience waiting for a piano recital to begin. For one or two seconds the Shogun stood like a statue in the space between the sliding doors, presenting a figure of stiff formality. All of the Japanese in the room knelt in a deep bow, except for the senior and junior retainers who remained standing. They probably did this so as not to create any discrimination between themselves and the delegates and so were excused from the usual formalities. 

When the Shogun entered the room, he bowed, and then, to borrow a phrase from Tacitus “in the manner of the barbarians”, shook hands with Ambassador Parkes.  All of the delegates, namely Parkes, Lowcock, Satow, and Mitford himself, then sat on one side of the table while the other featured the Shogun and four of his retainers. The Shogun then majestically stood up and enquired about the health of Queen Victoria.  Ambassador Parkes himself then stood up and asked about the well-being of the Emperor and then proceeded to discuss a range of practical issues. While speaking with the Shogun in private, Yoshinobu revealed that he knew all about recent events that had occurred following the signing of the Elgin Treaty. He spoke plainly in relation to the ‘disturbances’ that the English delegates had recently experienced, and said that he was aggrieved by the many issues preventing the fulfilment of friendly relations between the people of his nation and the delegates. He also revealed his resolve to improve the existing system of government. Mitford writes that the Shogun possessed a personality that was well-suited to drawing people to him.  People would expect, on first meeting him, for him to be overly stiff and somewhat pensive, and given the amount of problems he was dealing with at the time that was to be expected. Yet he was also able, amongst all the formality, to speak and act freely.

Mitford writes that Tokugawa Yoshinobu was an individual who possessed many excellent traits. He was of short stature in comparison to Westerners, but around average for the Japanese of his day.  When he wore more traditional clothes, that difference was not really all that obvious. Mitford wrote that among all of the Japanese that he met during his time in Japan, Yoshinobu’s figure was the one that was the most impressive to Western eyes. He says that he had a bright, healthy olive complexion, with sparkling eyes. While his mouth was stiffly pensive, he had a kind expression when he smiled. He had a strong body, which was very masculine in appearance.  He also practiced horse riding regularly, and in all weather like a famous English huntsman. Forty years after their first meeting, Mitford said that the passage of time had hardly aged Yoshinobu.  His attractive gait had not diminished any, and while he might have had more wrinkles on his face, his character had not changed at all. One of the peculiarities of being born into a famous household is that everything is done according to tradition. Yet Yoshinobu, as an aristocrat, was exceptional. Mitford regretted the fact that Yoshinobu’s position in society was anachronistic, however.     

Mitford then writes that after engaging in friendly conversation for around an hour, Yoshinobu mentioned that he would like to see the guard that the delegation had brought with them, and which had been waiting in the central grounds of the castle. Yoshinobu appeared to be quite impressed by the sword and lance drill conducted by the mounted troops. Yet what impressed him most was the size of the horses they had brought with them, which were a type of Arabian breed they had imported to Japan from India and were quite grand.  Yoshinobu loved horses, and so spread the word that these foreign horses were, when compared to Japan’s own domestically bred horses, so much better in many ways. Japan’s own horses were, it must be said, of an ordinary type that can be found anywhere.

The Shogun then treated the delegation to a splendid dinner. He writes that at the time his diary was completed (in 1915), it was fairly standard to be treated to French cuisine at the residences of Japan’s elite. But the opportunity to dine with the Shogun and his retainers was, for the four delegates from Britain, like something out of a dream.  Yoshinobu functioned as the host, while his retainers made every effort to accommodate the delegates. Mitford also mentions that Yoshinobu, at some stage during proceedings, rose up from his seat in order to propose a toast to the health of Her Majesty the Queen of England. The diplomatic practice of making toasts was not something commonly known in Japan at the time, and it appeared to be an attempt by Yoshinobu to please his guests.  Parkes then returned the gesture by proposing a toast to the health of the Shogun.  After the dinner, the Shogun accompanied his guests to an interior room where they were given pipes and silk tobacco purses woven by the Shogun’s wives.

Mitford also writes that as the delegates were preparing to leave, they ventured down one of the hallways in the residence which was decorated with fabulous prints depicting many famous poets. When Yoshinobu saw how much the delegates appreciated the paintings, he ordered one of them to be removed from the wall and presented to Ambassador Parkes to take back with him to the British mission. Ambassador Parkes was initially reluctant to accept the picture, however Yoshinobu told him that “every time I will look at that spot, I will know that the picture that hung there now decorates the residence of the Ambassador of Britain, and that will bring me great joy”.  Mitford then exclaims “Can you conceive of any greater form of farewell than this?” 

Mitford wrote that the delegates remained in the castle until after 9pm. He said that the delegates were incredibly pleased at the way the meeting had gone, and that the retainers of the Shogun were also happy to have been granted the opportunity to meet with representatives from Britain for the first time.  Mitford later wrote that because of the Shogun’s natural curiosity and affability, there was a strong expectation that the opening of the port of Osaka, which was scheduled to take place in January the following year. He states that he was scheduled to be transferred out of Japan around that time, something that vexed him greatly. He believed that he would be missing out on the last politically important event in Japanese history. However fortunes changed and he ended up staying longer, and would have many other opportunities to experience ‘historically significant’ events.