Victorians in Japan: In and around the Treaty Ports 9781472553645, 9780485113129

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JAPAN

Introduction This book is an anthology of impressions and anecdotes by Victorian writers about Japan and their life there. It is not, and makes no claim to be, a social or political history of the Treaty ports in the last half of the nineteenth century. Still less is it a history of Anglo-Japanese relations in this period. But I hope that these vignettes, largely in the words of contemporary witnesses, will amuse, and help to give a picture of what it was like to be a foreigner in Japan in Victorian times. Japan has changed perhaps more than almost any other country in the last one hundred and twenty years, as these chapters will show. In order to keep the material within the compass of a book of reasonable size I have had to make large and often arbitrary cuts and to exclude much fascinating material. In particular, I have had to omit the interesting accounts of travellers in the 'interior', as the Victorians rather charmingly described anywhere beyond the Treaty ports and their immediate vicinity. For reasons of space I have also had to confine my selection almost exclusively to British writers. After the Americans first succeeded in gaining entry to the country the British were the dominant foreign community in nineteenthcentury Japan, but the Americans, the French and the Germans, as well as the Dutch and the Russians, were also important, and I regret having to leave out extracts from the works of many writers from other countries. Because of the wealth of interesting material covering the more eventful years at the end of the Tokugawa period (1600-1868) and the beginning of the Meiji era (1868-1912), I have inevitably included more from this period than from the final decades of the century. In making my selection I have chosen pieces which are either evocative of a place, an event, or a way of life. But I have also sought out pieces which are either deliberately or unconsciously humorous, resisting the temptation to comment on the more sententious, arrogant, pompous or prudish views of Victorian writers. The British appear as they were — a mixture of courage and common sense on the one hand, and of pompous conceits on the other. The Japanese were an equally odd if different mixture. The 'little Japanese' often seemed funny to the visitors as well as devious and difficult. I trust that

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Japanese readers will not mind being made to look comic; after all, they can have their amusement at the expense of the Victorian visitors. I should like to record my debt to previous writers on the period not least to Grace Fox for her invaluable study, Britain and japan, 1858-1883-, to Pat Barr for her amusing accounts of foreigners in Japan in The Coming of the Barbarians and The Deer Cry Pavilion-, and to Harold Williams, author of Tales of the Foreign Settlements in Japan, who has also done much pioneering work in this field. I must also record my thanks to Yvonne Cheke for permission to quote from her lecture to the Japan Society on the Hakodate Incident; to Lord Montgomery of Alamein for permission to quote from Mrs Alt's unpublished memoirs; to Mr and Mrs L. Batchelor for permission to quote from 'Steps by the way', an autobiographical collection of memories of the Very Reverend Dr John Batchelor, the famous Ainu scholar; and to HMSO for permission to quote from documents in the Public Record Office, file FO 46. Robert Scoales, librarian to the Japan Society in London, provided many valuable sources and I am most grateful to him; and to Ken Gardner of the Department of Oriental Manuscripts and Books in the British Library for all the help given to me by the Department. And I would like to thank Helen Lefroy for her endeavours to improve the text. I have quoted some of my own studies and would like to acknowledge my debt to the Japan Society for publishing 'The first British Legation in Japan (1859-1872)', and to the Royal Society of Asian Affairs for publishing 'Yokohama, frontier town, 1859-1866'. I believe that where long quotations have been made all the works concerned are now out of copyright, but if inadvertently I have failed to make due acknowledgment I hope I may be forgiven. Hugh Cortazzi

Historical background When Commodore Perry's 'black ships' of the United States Navy appeared off Uraga in 1853, the Bakufu, as the Government of the Tokugawa Shogunate was called, was already in decline. Japan's defences were weak and a rigid system of government had become incapable of making the flexible responses which the arrival of foreign ships required. The forced opening to the west acted in the space of a brief fifteen years as a catalyst for a revolution which not only changed the Japanese system of government but also the whole fabric of Japanese society. Following the battle of Sekigahara in 1600, Tokugawa leyasu had had himself appointed Shogun (or military ruler) by the Emperor in Kyoto. He established the capital of his regime at Edo (renamed Tokyo in 1868) in the Kanto plain, well away from Kyoto and from Osaka, the headquarters of Toyotomi Hideyori, the son of Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Hideyori, as the successor to a brilliant father, who had made himself autocratic ruler of Japan at the end of the sixteenth century at a time of particular brilliance in Japanese art and culture, was a potential rival to leyasu and had to be eliminated. This was achieved in 1615 with the capture of Osaka castle. leyasu was determined to prevent a recurrence of the internecine struggles between Japan's feudal lords which had plagued Japan for the previous three centuries. He therefore reduced in size the fiefs of many Daimyo who had been on the losing side at Sekigahara or who had shown less than perfect loyalty to the Tokugawa. Other Daimyo were transferred to less important areas, while a few were wiped out. The Daimyo not closely connected with the Tokugawa came to be called the Tozama or outer lords. They were kept in check by strategically placed fiefs of Daimyo known to be wholly loyal to the Tokugawa. These were the so-called Fudai-Daimyo. The Daimyo generally were watched by censors (o-metsuke and metsuke). They were also forced to spend alternate periods in Edo and in their fiefs, but as hostages to their loyalty, the wives and children had to remain in Edo. The enforced peace enabled trade and the arts to flourish, especially in the late seventeenth century, and a network of highways was developed to carry the growing traffic. The most famous of these IX

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highways was the Tokaido (or eastern sea road), a distance of approximately 292 miles from Edo to Kyoto. But economic development was stifled by the rigid class structure (the so-called Shi-No-KoSho or samurai, farmer, artisan and merchant in that order of importance) and the arbitrary and top-heavy bureaucracy, which developed. The large unproductive samurai class also placed a heavy burden on farmers who provided the bulk of taxes and all the stipends of the samurai. Industry did begin to develop in the later years of the regime, especially in some of the outer fiefs such as Satsuma in southern Kyushu, but it was limited. By 1853 the Japanese economy was creaking and, in the early decades of the nineteenth century, unrest among the oppressed peasantry was growing. Under the Tokugawa Japan was isolated from the rest of the world. By the time leyasu established his system of government Japan's so-called Christian century was coming to an end. Missionaries had come under growing suspicion as rivalry between the Portuguese and the Spaniards became more acute. Doubts were increasingly felt about the loyalties of the Christian Daimyo in Kyushu. The resulting persecution of Christians in Japan was based far more on political than on religious or social grounds, although undoubtedly some Buddhist priests resented the intolerance of Catholic missionaries. The persecution culminated in the Shimabara rebellion of 1637-8 and the expulsion of Portuguese and Spanish missionaries and merchants from Japan. The Dutch who had a small trading-post at Hirado, north of Nagasaki in Kyushu where the British had also (1613—23) had a 'factory', were exempted from the otherwise total ban on foreign intercourse, but they were forced to transfer their trading-post to the tiny island of Deshima in Nagasaki bay, where they were kept in virtual confinement and bridges to the mainland were carefully guarded. No Dutch women were allowed and all Christian practices were forbidden. The Dutch, however, managed to maintain a small trade with Europe via Java and the Dutch colony remained Japan's one window to the west during some two centuries of seclusion. Dutch learning (the so-called Rangaku) was pursued by a few Japanese scholars. Apart from the Dutch language these scholars concentrated on practical subjects: anatomy, surveying, and arms manufacture. By the middle of the nineteenth century Japan's continuing isolation was an anachronism which was becoming increasingly untenable. The Industrial Revolution had created vast new production facilities in Europe, and new markets were being sought. The wealth thus created also generated demands for foreign products. The China trade had developed quickly in the first half of the nineteenth century

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and, with the opening up of the US Pacific coast, shipping expanded rapidly. At the same time the development of whaling in the North Pacific was bringing more and more foreign whalers, especially American, to waters off the coast of northern Japan. These ships needed to take refuge in Japanese ports during storms at sea. They also needed to replenish stocks of water, food and, later, coal. The Japanese refusal to allow entry by foreign ships and their treatment of shipwrecked mariners were no longer acceptable to western authorities or to the United States Government. The Russians, moreover, having colonized Siberia and Kamchatka, were seeking to expand southwards. The Americans took the initiative and in 1854 forced a limited Treaty on the Bakufu, which made the ports of Nagasaki, Hakodate and Shimoda available. They also obtained Japanese acceptance of their demand to be allowed to install a consular representative at Shimoda. He was Townsend Harris. The other western powers took immediate advantage to negotiate their own treaties with Japan. The first British agreement with Japan was the convention signed by Rear-Admiral Sir John Stirling on behalf of Britain at Nagasaki on 14 October 1854, and ratified the following year. Under Article I of this convention, the ports of Nagasaki and Hakodate were to be 'open to British ships for the purposes of effecting repairs, and obtaining fresh water, provisions, and other supplies of any sort they may absolutely want for the use of the ships'. Under Article III, 'Only ships in distress or unmanageable will be permitted to enter other ports'. Article VII contained the unrealistic clause. 'When this convention shall be ratified no high officer coming to Japan shall alter it.' No rights of residence or of trade were obtained. Led by Admiral Poutiatine, the Russians concluded a somewhat similar treaty at Shimoda on 26 January 1855. But significantly, under Article V of this treaty, the Russians were permitted to exchange at Hakodate and Shimoda 'objets et monnaies qu'ils aurant apportes, contre les marchandises et les objets qu'ils desireraient acquerir'. Under Article VI they also obtained the right to appoint consuls in Hakodate and Shimoda. The so-called Shimoda Convention between the Americans and the Japanese of 25 February 1857 provided for extraterritoriality: 'If an American does not comply with the law in respect of a Japanese, he will be punished by the consul-general or the consul according to American law.' On 9 November 1855 the Dutch had concluded a treaty with the Japanese under which a Netherlander committing an offence against Japanese law was to be punished according to Netherlands law. The British government regarded Admiral Stirling's convention as unsatisfactory and the Earl of Elgin, who was sent in 1857 to regulate relations with China, was also mandated to go on to Japan

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and to conclude a new treaty. Townsend Harris meanwhile was working hard on a commercial treaty and on 29 July 1858 he succeeded in achieving signature of an agreement, which was to set a precedent for other commercial agreements, British, Russian, Dutch and French. The British so-called Treaty of Yedo was concluded on 26 August 1858. Article II provided for the appointment of a 'Diplomatic Agent' to reside at Edo and for consuls to reside at ports opened for commerce. The Agent was to have the right to travel freely to any part of Japan. Article III provided for Hakodate, Kanagawa and Nagasaki to be opened from 1 July 1859; Niigata or another convenient port on the west coast from January 1860; Hyogo [Kobe] on 1 January 1863. British subjects were given the right of permanent residence in these ports, and the right to lease ground and to purchase buildings. Limits were, however, placed on the areas into which they might travel freely; beyond these limits special passports would be required. British subjects were also to be permitted to reside at Edo from 1 January 1862 and at Osaka from 1 January 1863,'for the purposes of trade only'. Permanent residence and the right to lease land and purchase buildings were not granted in Edo and Osaka. Article IV granted the British extra-territorial privileges in civil matters: 'All questions in regard to rights, whether of property or person, arising between British subjects . . . in Japan, shall be subject to the jurisdiction of the British authorities.' Article V granted extra-territoriality in criminal matters. Offences against Japanese were to be 'tried and punished by the consul . . . according to the laws of Great Britain'. Other articles covered the rights to trade, to exchange money, etc. The Treaty was one example of what the Japanese came to regard as the 'unequal treaties' and which in the last three decades of the nineteenth century they struggled to revise to a more equal arrangement. When foreign diplomats and merchants arrived in Japan in 1859, they found that the Shogun's power had been undermined and that their safety could not be guaranteed. Attacks on foreigners were frequent and there were many fatalities. The British Legation in Edo was the subject of murderous night attacks in 1861 and 1862. But perhaps the most politically significant murder was that of Charles Lennox Richardson, a Shanghai merchant, who was riding with friends along the Tokaido at Namamugi near Yokohama in September 1862. He was cut down by samurai from the fief of Satsuma, one of the main Tozama Daimyo in southern Kyushu (the modern Kagoshima prefecture). The British demanded reparations. The Satsuma authorities refused and the Bakufu were unable to enforce their writ in Satsuma. As a result the British bombarded

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Kagoshima in the late summer of 1863. The Choshu fief, which controlled the straits of Shimonoseki, also caused trouble to the western powers by disrupting shipping in the straits. Western naval vessels, led by -the British, accordingly bombarded, and landed at, Shimonoseki in 1864 and ensured freedom of navigation. The arrival of strangers aroused the anti-foreign feelings of the conservative samurai who deplored the failure of the Bakufu to expel the newcomers. The opposition crystallized in the Sonno Joi [revere the Emperor and expel the foreigner] movement. This movement came under the leadership of the Tozama Daimyo and especially of the younger samurai who dominated councils in Satsuma and Choshu. They soon recognized that they needed western arms and technology and that their target should be the Bakufu rather than the foreign resident. Relations, especially with Britain, were mended; arms and ammunition were imported. The Bakufu meanwhile vacillated and their reputation for deviousness grew. Japanese missions were sent to America, Britain and other European countries and pleas were made to delay opening further ports. The pleas were partly successful in that agreement was made to delay the opening of Hyogo (Kobe) until 1 January 1868, Osaka until 1 September 1868, and Edo and Niigata until 1 January 1869. Meanwhile the Bakufu's position steadily deteriorated and the foreign settlements developed but the expected trade failed to increase. In 1867 the last of the Tokugawa Shogun, Tokugawa Keiki, succeeded to the position of Shogun. He and his advisers attempted to maintain themselves in power, and began to negotiate with the hitherto largely ceremonial and powerless Imperial Court. By so doing they admitted their weakness and sealed their fate. Keiki resigned as Shogun in January 1868 and his forces were defeated at Toba-Fushimi outside Kyoto by Imperial forces largely made up of samurai from the Tozama fiefs. The civil war which followed lasted in parts of Japan until the end of the year and in Hokkaido, the northern island, into 1869. But the forces loyal to the Tokugawa never really had a chance of restoring Tokugawa rule. The Meiji revolution was achieved without much bloodshed, although there was inevitably a good deal of hardship, especially for the dispossessed samurai. There were sporadic uprisings, particularly in Kyushu in the 1870s, which culminated in the Satsuma rebellion or Seinan [West-South] war of 1877. This was put down with much harshness, although in later years its leader, Saigo Takamori, was rehabilitated as a Japanese hero. The new government of young and reforming samurai from the Tozama fiefs destroyed the Bakufu framework of society. They established the young Emperor Mutsuhito (known to posterity by his

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reign name of Meiji) as the nominal ruler of Japan. The capital was moved in 1868 from Kyoto to Edo, which was renamed Tokyo [eastern capital] and the transformation of the country was begun. This involved primarily the destruction of the rigid class system which had prevailed hitherto. In particular the samurai class was abolished and their stipends commuted into relatively small capital sums. A system of universal compulsory military service was adopted instead to provide Japan with essential defence forces. The slogan of the new leaders was fukoku kyohei [rich country, strong army]. In pursuit of these objectives they strove for the speedy modernization of the country. They were determined to assert Japan's position in the world and to abolish the 'unequal treaties'. In pursuit of economic strength they adopted universal compulsory primary education, recognizing that prosperity could not be achieved without an educated work-force. Every effort was made to learn from the west and to copy western ways, techniques and institutions, if these would serve Japan's purpose. Large numbers of foreign technicians and teachers were employed under the so-called yatoi [literally employee] system. Industrial development was sponsored and modern means of communication, including railways, were built. New codes of law were adopted and in 1889 a constitution was promulgated. This was the Meiji constitution which was largely based on German models. Two houses, one of representatives elected on a limited franchise and the other of peers, formed the Imperial Diet. Western dress was generally adopted and old traditions which had roused the censure of foreigners — for instance, mixed bathing and a relaxed attitude towards nudity — were forbidden. Even coolies were forced to cover their nakedness in the hot weather because of foreign susceptibilities! From the early days of the settlements British merchants in Japan achieved a dominating position in trade. The first British Minister and Consul General, Sir Rutherford Alcock, who apart from home leave was in Japan from 1859-64, referred to the British merchants as 'the scum of the earth'. Arrogant and tough they certainly were and some were unscrupulous, but I doubt if they were much, if at all, worse than those of other countries; Japanese methods of doing business and of controlling their activities were not conducive to philanthropy. The British were generally competent businessmen and trade flourished in the years following the Imperial Restoration in 1868. The second British Minister, Sir Harry Parkes, who stayed from 1865 to 1882, was even more arrogant and domineering than most of his countrymen. He had had a tough training in China, where, while a prisoner of the Chinese, he had been nearly murdered. Parkes

Historical background xv was also able, active and shrewd. During the run-up to the civil war of 1868 he was instructed to remain neutral, but he saw the way the wind was blowing in Japan and members of his staff, especially Ernest Satow, his able Japanese-speaking secretary, quietly backed the forces supporting an Imperial restoration. It was partly due to the efforts of Parkes that the yatoi in many spheres, such as the railways, were predominantly British. The Japanese achieved their aim of Treaty revision in 1894 when they persuaded the British to agree changes in the Anglo-Japanese Treaty. The new Treaties, however, only came into force in 1899 after a new Japanese civil code had been put into effect. The Victorian era thus largely coincided with the Treaty port system in Japan and with the first modernization of Japan.

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Currency

When the British first arrived in Japan the Mexican silver dollar was the generally recognized currency for trade in the Far East. At first the Mexican dollar was equivalent to approximately three Japanese bu or three-quarters of a Japanese ryo. However, when the yen was introduced in place of the ryo it was declared to be equal to one Mexican dollar. The Mexican dollar continued to circulate in Japan up to 1897, but it was increasingly replaced by Japanese currency. In the early years the Japanese currency was the ryo, the bu (four to the ryo). The bu was divided into shu and four shu made one bu. A koban was a gold ryo which soon gave way to the ryo note as gold and silver drained away from Japan. In the early days foreign residents made considerable profits from currency speculation. When the yen was introduced it was divided into 100 sen. There were 10 rin to 1 sen. There were government notes (kinsatsu) and bank-notes (ginkosatsu). There were notes for sums of 10 sen, 20 sen, 1 yen, 2 yen, 3 yen and upwards. Below 10 sen the currency consisted of 2-sen, 1-sen and 5-rin copper coins. There were also small copper coins (called cash) worth 1 rin, IVi rin and 2 rin; and an oblong coin of base alloy called the tempo which was worth 8 rin. In their Handbook for Travellers in Central and Northern Japan (1881) Satow and Hawes advised: As it is often difficult to get change for large notes, the traveller is advised not to carry any of greater amount than 3 yen. The most useful are the 1-yen notes. It is also advisable to be provided with a plentiful supply of 10-sen and 20-sen notes. Copper coinage is constantly required, and it is the servant's business to see that he does not run short of small change . . . The traveller will find that it conduces to his comfort to let his servant pay all charges and for this purpose to entrust him with small sums from time to time.

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Orthography Japanese words have been put in the usual Hepburn spelling. Japanese names follow the Japanese practice of surname first, followed by the given name.

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Nagasaki Nagasaki in the southern island of Kyushu was one of the first two Japanese ports opened to British ships under the terms of Article I of the Convention concluded at Nagasaki on 14 October 1854 by RearAdmiral Sir John Stirling on behalf of Great Britain. In the sixteenth century Nagasaki was a small fishing village in the province of Hizen under the control of one Nagasaki Jinzaemon, a vassal of the local Daimyo, Omura Sumitada. In 1567 Omura opened his territory to the Jesuit missionaries who had come to Japan in the wake of St Francis Xavier who had first landed in Japan in 1549. The Church of All Saints was built in 1570 and in 1571 Nagasaki was expanded by the construction of six sectors named after the builders' home villages. In 1580 Omura offered the port to the Jesuits and Nagasaki became the most important Jesuit and Christian centre in Japan. However, in 1587, following the first ban against Christians by the then military ruler of Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Nagasaki was placed under the direct control of the military ruler of Japan. By 1605 Nagasaki had a population of 20,000. The persecution of Christians intensified and culminated in the Shimabara rebellion of 1637—8. Christianity was proscribed and except for a few Dutch merchants, the expulsion of all foreigners was ordered by the Tokugawa Shogunate (Bakufu). The Dutch, who had first arrived in Japan in 1600 in the ship Liefde (of which the pilot was the famous English sailor William Adams), had had a trading-post in Hirado to the north of Nagasaki. In 1641 they were ordered to move to Nagasaki. There they were confined to the small island of Deshima which was connected to the city of Nagasaki by a small and well-guarded bridge. The Dutch merchants remained penned into this small island throughout the period of the Tokugawa until the doors of Japan were forced open by Commodore Perry's 'Black Ships' in 1853. Perry was soon followed by the Russian Admiral Poutiatine who forced his way into Nagasaki bay. The Dutch quickly demanded equality with the Americans and Russians. The Japanese authorities were forced to remove the guards on Deshima and in 1863 the island was returned by the Dutch to the Japanese authorities. Today the area around Deshima has been reclaimed from the sea and all that remains of the island is a museum with a model of the old Dutch trading centre.

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During the Tokugawa period the Dutch 'factory' (i.e. trading-post at Deshima provided Japan's only window to the west. The Dutch for their part were the only westerners allowed access to the Japanese. Their regular missions to the Tokugawa capital at Edo, the modern Tokyo, were regarded by the Japanese as bearers of tribute. Members of the mission were expected not only to kowtow but also to perform like strolling players before the Shogun's court. Naturally they had to bring with them expensive presents! But from time to time their missions included some intelligent and articulate observers who have left valuable accounts of these missions and of Japan. The most important of these were the Germans Engelbert Kaempfer (1651-1716) and Philip Franz von Siebold (1790-1866) and the Swedish Carl Peter Thunberg (1743-1822). Admiral Stirling arrives, 1854 Admiral Stirling's squadron sailed from the mouth of the Yangtse Kiang for Japan in early September 1854. They sighted the island of Kyushu on the afternoon of 7 September. The admiral signalled the squadron to form 'line of battle' and the ships' commanders went on board the flag-ship to receive their orders. These related principally to the rules of conduct towards the Japanese: 'civility towards themselves and obedience to their laws'. J. M. Tronson wrote: The evening was calm, the water serenely blue, reflecting the white square sails of the many junks which lay on its bosom. As we entered the Bay of Pappenberg (the outer anchorage of Nagasaki), many official boats approached, and by waving flags and bunches of paper warned us not to enter the inner or middle anchorage. One personage, who appeared to be the customhouse officer, held up a white wand with some document attached, written in the Dutch language; this was passed on to the flag-ship. It contained a list of questions as to where we were from; our business; our intended stay; and ordered the ships to anchor, at least for the present, in the outer anchorage. The entrance, sufficiently deep for the largest line-of-battle ship, was picturesque; on either side the land rose high and steep, clothed with fir and cedar, from which peeped at intervals many a large gun. The right side was particularly well defended, having well-formed batteries, with guns of large calibre, each provided with a separate shed; behind each battery was placed a bombproof magazine of pyramidal shape. A large number of soldiers and gazers were collected around a flag-staff erected on the summit of the highest hill. . . . We

The Treaty ports: Nagasaki anchored in a retired and lonely nook, the official boats came nearer, so that we had opportunities of inspecting them minutely; they are of peculiar shape, low and broad, the bow suddenly narrowing to a raised and sharp prow. . . . The forepart of the boat was roofed over for the reception of the officiers; the rowers, eight in number, standing with their backs to the stern, propelled the shallop forwards at a good rate, keeping time to a musical chant, at first curious, but which soon became fatiguing to our ears. All the boats were very clean, and well-built of white deal, fine grained: some were built of cedar. The plentiful use of copper in the construction of junks and boats, gave an idea of the quantity of that valuable mineral distributed throughout the country. The scenery around is delightful, hill-sides cultivated in terraces; shady valleys, whose sides was clothed with pines and evergreens; pleasant hamlets embowered in groves, with gardens and mountain rivulets; children gambolling, and peaceful peasants enjoying their evening rest, by sauntering towards the water's edge, with their tiny pipes which appear to be ever in use. The moon, as she rose from behind the distant mountains appeared brighter than usual — lighting up many a prominent hill and wooded islet, and throwing into dark shade our sheltered anchorage. Not a cloud sullied the firmament; the air, clear and bracing, imparted a joyousness to our spirits, and made us contrast very forcibly the climate of Hong Kong on a September evening with that of Japan in the same month. A line of guard-boats was placed around the squadron, for the purpose, the authorities informed us, of keeping away troublesome intruders, such as smugglers; the real object being to prevent any person landing from the ships. Each guard-boat was provided with a lantern, . . . and bore from her stern two flags attached to spears, one displaying the government arms, the other the arms of the officer in command of the boat. The Admiral received some of the principal Japanese officials on board the Winchester. . . . They promised supplies of vegetables and water,. . . and took their departure with the courteous demeanour for which they are so distinguished. Early on the morning of the 8th, the ships weighed anchor, and proceeded to the middle harbour, which is prettily situated, and within sight of the city of Nagasaki and of the Dutch settlement. The surface of the water was studded with numerous islets, thrown up at random by some volcanic action: they are covered by the pine, camphor-tree, and luxuriant camellia. All the islets, with one or two exceptions, were fortified; and some rejoiced in

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Victorians in Japan three rows of guns, placed one over the other: the upper tier so high as to be perfectly harmless in repelling an invading foe. The Barracouta anchored in ten fathoms of water, within range of a long and low battery, without parapet. Here were placed guns of large calibre, mortars, and field-pieces; the latter apparently of European origin. On our right was the entrance to the inner harbour. A row of junks, connected together by chains, obstructed the passage for ships; and, as if this formidable array were not sufficient to guard the passage, the hills on both sides were decorated with batteries in terraces, each having from six to ten guns - a vast expenditure of brass. Barracks, or guard stations for men and officers, were placed at intervals near the edge of the water, having before them curtains of cotton chequered blue and white. In the distance we could see the city, which has a southern aspect, and is backed by a range of mountains. It extends along the shore for some distance, and retires by an easy ascent through a pretty valley. A small river flows through its centre; some of the streets run at right angles, others parallel to it. ... Cultivation of every accessible spot of land seemed to be the order of the day. Beautiful fields were covered with rich crops, now turning yellow, . . . the pine, cypress, and yew, were seen in clusters, groves, and plantations; and the long and graceful bamboo adorned the valleys. Owing to the steepness of the hills and the frequent rains in spring, the land is cultivated in terraces, . . . and neat tea-gardens and houses are seen in each sheltered spot. The weather, fine, bright, and enjoyable, made each one anxious to ramble on shore. . . . Junks, of various shapes and sizes, flitted about; some gaily decorated with flags, others with heavy square sails, laced up the centre, took their departure for some of the neighbouring islands. A Dutch steamer and merchant ship were at anchor off Deshima, a small fan-shaped island, on which the Dutch factory is built. . . . It is hardly to be wondered that the Japanese desire no intercourse with other people: frugal in habits, content with their own laws, institutions, and natural productions, they require no succour from other nations.

The Governor of Nagasaki at first declined to receive Admiral Stirling and sent to Edo for instructions. However he sent presents of 'fruit, vegetables, and sweetmeats, to each ship, for the officers, and some pigs and yams for the crew'. Tronson continued: By degrees the timidity of the natives wore off, and we had frequent visits from officers, some on duty, others from

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curiosity which they in vain endeavoured to repress. The machinery of the Barracouta appeared to puzzle them. They asked permission to take drawings of the various cylinders, pistons, cranks, etc; and through the courtesy of Mr Boulton, the chief engineer, they were enabled to obtain plans, which gave them infinite delight. No reply having been received from Edo by 20 September the Admiral threatened to go there himself. Anxious to prevent any such move, the Governor, allowed the visitors to purchase food through the Dutch on Deshima, but 'the supply was rather scanty and of indifferent quality'. Permission to land was eventually granted and Tronson landed on a small island which they facetiously termed 'Little Britain' on 2 October. Here they were able to partake of some 'athletic sports'. Admiral Stirling was eventually received by the Governor on 4 October. On landing at the jetty the Admiral was received by a guard of honour and a body of officers in court costume. The procession now passed through a suite of .rooms to an antechamber where each individual was presented with a chair, the Admiral and Flag-Captain being honoured with a private apartment. Curtains of blue and white material hung in festoons around the waiting-room; and pictures of birds of various plumage decorated the walls. After resting here for a few minutes, the Admiral and Captain were ushered into the presence chamber, a large apartment, with the usual festoons; a row of soldiers lined the sides, and near the audience seat were many of the grandees and courtiers, squatted down before the Governor and Chief Inspector, who stood waiting to receive the Admiral. His Excellency advanced and saluted the Governor, who returned the salutation by a slight inclination of the head. Conversation was carried on through the medium of interpreters; those belonging to the court keeping their foreheads within a few inches of the floor. One of the interpreters (Otto), attached to the Winchester, a native Japanese, had been wrecked on the north-west coast of America, and after various travels and troubles received the situation of gatekeeper to Mr Beale of Shanghai; he had imbibed some of the independent ideas of Englishmen, and when called upon to interpret for the Admiral, stood erect, and with a gentle inclination of the head spoke aloud. After an exchange of compliments the audience concluded. Tea and pipes were served, followed by fish and sweetmeats; forks, chopsticks, and napkins being supplied' in the waiting-room. The Governor received instructions from Edo, and a final visit was made on 15 October.

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Victorians in Japan The Convention was framed and signed. Dinner was then served in European style; soup, fish, meats, and pastry, with wines: the latter, I presume, procured from the Dutch. The evening waned late ere the party broke up. The palace and avenue to the water's edge, as well as many of the public buildings, were gaily illuminated. A number of presents followed the officers to the ships; those for the Admiral and senior officers were valuable, consisting of pieces of fine silk, and some delicate specimens of Japanese china; those for the junior officers were of little value, a few cups, saticers, or plates, of porcelain. I received a box containing ten plates, each thick enough to be used as a quoit. The guard boats had been lately removed, as the Admiral inspired much confidence by going on shore without an armed force, and also by refusing to trade with smugglers, who nightly approached the ships with various articles of merchandise: they may have been sent by the authorities to put our sincerity to the test. When we received our ,bills from the Dutch for the provisions supplied by them, some of the prices were found to be exorbitant. [Tronson met] a plain-spoken official, who said that he understood that England was a very small country in the western seas, strong by sea, and that the natives lived by plundering the ships of peaceable nations, and compelling all to pay tribute. We took considerable pains to enlighten our ignorant friend, and to explain by maps, the outlines and courses of the British Empire; enumerating the various peoples acknowledging the sway of Queen Victoria; and adding that England's mission was to proclaim peace and goodwill towards all, to defend the right and protect the weak, to promote civilisation over the globe, and to relieve the oppressed. Personal Narrative of a Voyage in HMS Barra^outa

The mission led by Lord Elgin in 1858 also called first at Nagasaki before proceeding to Edo. Laurence Oliphant wrote that the guns which 'appeared of enormous calibre, were for the most part unprotected by embrasures'. He also noticed long lines of sham batteries, 'known to sailors as Dungaree forts and which were made simply of coarse cloth or canvass, stretched and painted as to represent batteries'. By this time the cordon of boats across the harbour consisted of only 'the official boat, upon the deck, or rather roof, of which a gentleman was seated, reading placidly and gently fanning himself. On our approaching nearer, he looked up and waved us benignly back with his fan.' Oliphant took this as being done merely

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for form's sake. He thought that the Japanese 'possess a marvellous facility of accepting whatever situation they find is inevitably forced upon them'. The British ships were soon at anchor. They were first boarded by a boat-load of Japanese officials. They came crowding on the deck in the most easy, unembarrassed manner imaginable, smiling blandly and affably, and talking Dutch, which, however, nobody on board understood.' The visitors found the Japanese costume peculiar; 'the position of the two swords with which each man was furnished, as they projected behind, gave him the appearance, at a distance, of being some new species of biped adorned with two tails.' Oliphant and others went to call on the Dutch: We landed at a rude quay, where some Dutch sailors were lounging under an open shed; and passing through a wooden gate, found ourselves in a single street, about two hundred yards long, as clean and precise as a street in that paragon of neatness, the village of Brock. The houses were substantial little two-storied edifices, with green shutters and blinds, from behind which peeped sundry pretty-looking female Japanese faces; for the Dutch here are not allowed the companionship of their own countrywomen. Of the male inhabitants, not half-a-dozen were visible, and these seemed all sailors. [Oliphant noted that] the houses of the Dutch officials in Deshima are unpretending little abodes, generally constructed of wood, with verandahs seaward; the lower storey devoted to warehouse purposes, the upper containing three or four small simply-furnished rooms. Up to quite a recent period Deshima must have presented rather the aspect of a penal settlement than the abode of a community of merchants. So strict was the surveillance to which the members composing the Factory here were subjected- so severe the restrictions by which they were bound - that one is tempted to believe that the gentlemen who chose the Dutch Factory at Nagasaki as their habitation, must have been the victims of that species of misanthropy which is supposed, in our own country, to induce men to apply for situations in lighthouses. Oliphant noted that the gates to Deshima were shut at night and 'no intercourse was allowed between the Factory and the town after sunset. This was the case when we were there; but our passage to and from the ship was free and interrupted.' He described the town in the following terms: We saw before us a wide spacious street, about a mile in length, flanked by neat houses, generally of two stories, with tiled or

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wooden roofs, and broad eaves projecting over the lower storey. A pave ran down the centre of the street, on each side of which it was carefully gravelled to the gutters. No wheeled vehicle or beast or burden was however visible, but, in default, a plentiful sprinkling of foot-passengers gave it an air of life and animation. It terminated in the distance in a flight of steps, which soon disappeared amid the foliage of the hillside, crowned with a temple or tea-house, or gleaming with the white-washed walls of some fire-proof storehouse. As we traversed its entire length no foul odours assailed our nostrils, or hideous cutaneous objects offended our eyesight; nor did inconvenient walls or envious shutters debar us from inspecting, as we passed along, the internal economy of the shops and dwellings on each side. Light wooden screens, neatly papered, and running on slides, are for the most part pushed back in the daytime, and the passer looks through the house, to where the waving shrubs of a cool-looking back-garden invite him to extend his investigations. . . . Balconies, filled with women engaged in domestic avocations, overhang the water; small boats ply upon its surface; and here and there the quaint old buttresses of the bridges are partly concealed with creeping plants, and across them numerous passengers pass and repass. It is interesting to stand on one of these and watch the humours of the place, while we enjoy the picturesque view which it affords. Nagasaki contains upwards of eighty streets crossing each other at right angles, and from three-quarters of a mile to a mile in length. Its population is estimated at about 60,000. Oliphant took the opportunity to visit both the Dutch and Russian bazaars. He found 'lacquer and china wares, bronzes and delicate basket-work, were arranged in tempting display. The beauty and elegance of all we saw delighted and astonished us.' He noted that the Japanese had learnt to make many European items. He found 'admirable telescopes of native manufacture, clocks, magnifyingglasses, and glass ware'. He noted that the Russian bazaar on the mainland was built 'like an Eastern caravanserai: it is a paved square, surrounded with small wooden houses and verandahs, full of articles for sale. At the entrance gateway are a certain number of officials, who now take little heed of the visitor, and always appeared to me engaged in making servile obeisances to one another, and drinking very hot tea out of curiously constructed steamers. The chief building in the square is devoted to the exchange of foreign money for Japanese paper currency.' Oliphant found that it was useless to try to

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persuade the Japanese shopkeepers to accept foreign money; so every foreigner had to purchase Japanese money. The officials took their time and it was no good being in a hurry. The Japanese licensed by the Government to trade with Europeans were inflexible about the prices charged and 'are almost as importunate and insinuating in their manner to the foreign young gentlemen, as if it was a fancy bazaar for a charitable purpose.' The Vice-Governor came to lunch on board their ship: seated in the bows of a stately barge, surrounded by a number of attendants, and with numerous black and white flags fluttering from the stern. He is a plebeian-looking man, with an extremely smiling countenance and very short legs. They are encased in loose trousers, not unlike knickerbockers, of damask embroidery, of a pattern that would be considered rather too gaudy for curtains. He bows repeatedly and rapidly, and his two swords, like a double tail, cock up responsively. His legs, below the knee, are neatly gaitered, and his stockinged feet are thrust into straw sandals. Across his bosom are many folds of fine cotton, which compose his shirt, and over it a thin gauze tunic completes his costume. Luncheon has been prepared for him and some of his followers, and he is soon seated at Lord Elgin's right hand, drinking champagne, and handling his knife and fork as if he usually lived in London. Narrative of the Earl of Elgin's Mission to China and Japan Captain Sherard Osborn, RN, who commanded one of HM ships carrying Lord Elgin's mission, has left another account of the visit to Nagasaki. Osborn noted that the children, who 'might have just escaped from Eden, so innocent were they of any clothing' begged for buttons. The visitors found this 'irresistible' and gave all they could spare, 'but what those little urchins were going to do with buttons seeing they had neither rag nor ornament upon them, was a puzzle'. The English visitors were fascinated by what they saw in the Dutch bazaar. The first feeling was a desire to buy up everything, where all was so pretty. Tables, curiously inlaid with mother-of-pearl - representations of birds and animals, which our papier-mache manufacturers, or those of France, would give anything to be able to imitate — cabinets, on which golden fish or tortoise stood out in most truthful relief - wonderful little gems in ivory, bone, or wood, fifty times more replete with originality, skill, and wit than anything China ever produced - porcelain so delicate, that you were almost afraid to touch it — in short, a child in a

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pastrycook's shop never ran from sweet to sweet more perplexed to know which to invest in, than we that morning in Deshima bazaar! They were fast approaching the bottom of their modest purses when they got into conversation with a Dutch 'understrapper' who declared that the Russian bazaar contained 'notings beautifuls'. This made the British officers determined to have a look at it! They found it thronged and with a greater variety of goods than the Dutch bazaar offered. At one stall they found microscopes, telescopes, sundials, scales, clocks and other items of European design but local manufacture. 'The prices were so ridiculously small that even at the lowest estimate of the value of labour it was a puzzle how any profit could be realised upon the articles.' They found that the clocks were beautiful specimens of mechanism and proved 'that the people of this country are most cunning in the fashioning of metals'. Osborn concluded: Our day's observations led us to a conclusion which every hour in Japan confirmed — that the people inhabiting it are a very remarkable race, and destined, by God's help, to play an important role in the future history of this remote quarter of the globe. It was impossible not to recognize in their colour, features, dress, and customs, the Semitic stock whence they must have sprung; but they differed much, physically and mentally, from that cold-blooded race. Full of fresh life and energy, anxious to share and compete with European civilization, ready to acknowledge its superiority, and desirous of adapting it to their social and public wants, how charming a contrast to the stolid Chinaman, who smiles blandly at some marvel of western skill or science, and calmly assures you that their countrymen 'hab got all the same that, Pekin side'. A cruise in Japanese waters Henry Arthur Tilley was an English officer who served on the Russian corvette Rynda from 1856-60. He also described a visit to Nagasaki in 1859. The Japanese officials were puzzled by Tilley. They wanted to know whether he was a Russian and why he did not wear uniform. They were inevitably suspicious, noticing perhaps the difficulty with which he spoke Russian. Tilley was critical of the behaviour of some of his fellow-countrymen. He noted two men 'entering the clean, matspread rooms of the Japanese in their dirty boots'. He also disapproved of the way some of the English shouted at and abused the Japanese, 'tiresome and procrastinating though they be'. He thought

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that his Russian colleagues, on the other hand, during their stay of nine months in Nagasaki, 'contrived to gain the affections, not only of the people, but of the higher authorities'. He commented that 'the officers in their walks through the town were surrounded by laughing children, backed by a circle of pretty girls, with the men peering over their shoulders'. Perhaps one of the Englishmen Tilley met was the merchant Captain Henry Holmes. Holmes described how he would go into the town 'before many of them had woken from their slumbers' and would enter a house to find the family sleeping on the floor. He claimed that his visits were 'taken in good part'. He declared that they welcomed him, 'and had many an early morning romp. I enjoyed rolling and tumbling with the whole family upon the floor, not in one house, but in many.' He once entered a house where a party was assembled, he did not know whether for a marriage or a funeral. He thought them 'a joyous party' and they would not let him depart without taking a cup of sake! On another occasion he took Mr William Keswick of Jardine Matheson, his employers, to call at the house of a 'friend' on the outskirts of the town. 'Tea, sweet sake and pipes were brought in, and the family, male and female, soon made their appearance, the ladies with their banjos [samisen]' and a little concert was commenced: We all sat, or reclined, on the'soft mats round the refreshments. Our host and family were untiring in trying to amuse us. If the music was not sweet to us barbaric foreigners, the little songs the ladies sang or chanted were, and a few clever tricks that were exhibited were good, causing much merriment. If we could not talk we all entered into the spirit of what made a most enjoyable afternoon of home life in Japan. When we left we were presented with small presents. Mr Keswick was delighted, and said he had spent a most enjoyable afternoon. I repeatedly visited the house, but had no idea of my friend's business. Near the house were two large godowns or warehouses. One day I was taken over them, which revealed to me that he was a pawnbroker, and by the way the place was packed he must have been in a large way of business. One pledge I was shown was six English shillings. I received so much kindness from this family that I shall ever remember them. My Adventures in Japan before the Treaty came into force The first British diplomat sent to reside in Japan was Rutherford Alcock (later Sir Rutherford Alcock). He was appointed initially as Consul General, but decided that he needed the status of Minister Plenipotentiary and had himself appointed to this position. He was

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destined for Edo, where, under the terms of the Treaty of 1859, he was granted the right to reside. On his way to Edo in June 1859 he called first at Nagasaki. His party arrived 'rain drenched' on 4 June. Nagasaki bay reminded him of 'some of the more picturesque fiords of Norway'. The scenery also reminded him of some of the Swiss lakes. He noted that while a gale was blowing outside the bay, there was 'scarcely any swell' inside the bay, 'while the brown fishing hawk swoops down upon his finny prey'! He thought that the upper part of the town of Nagasaki seemed 'a half deserted city, partly from the width of the streets, and partly by contrast.. . with the swarming population of Chinese cities'. The shops appeared to him but poorly supplied. [Alcock visited the] Russian settlement, in a beautifully situated cove, with wooded hills rising boldly behind it. Coal-sheds and stores spread along the base; while temporary barracks and headquarters were on a commanding platform, halfway up the banks. If the Russians, as some have surmised, intended a permanent settlement, it could not have been better chosen; but I saw nothing to indicate more than what it professed to be — a temporary location for the crew of the frigate Aschol, requiring a thorough repair and refit; for which this retired and snug bay was admirably adapted. The Capital of the Tycoon Alcock found that 'there was a terrible dearth of chickens, though plenty of eggs'. Meat of any kind was indeed difficult to find, but fish and vegetables there were in plenty. He 'wandered over one of the beautiful sloping hills extending along the bay towards the mouth of the harbour. It offered more than one delightful site for a foreign settlement, with abundant water frontage, and bounded by a ravine, down which a mountain stream came tumbling in foam and ripple, to empty itself into the bay.' He thought that this would provide an excellent place for a sanatorium for invalids from China and India. The first British Consul Alcock brought with him C. Pemberton Hodgson who was to be the first British Consul in Hakodate but he spent two months as acting Consul in Nagasaki. Hodgson was accompanied by his wife and two daughters, Eva and Sarah. Mrs Hodgson's first impressions of Nagasaki were far from favourable. Hodgson took his wife and daughters ashore. Mrs Hodgson explained: It was very foolish of us, perhaps, but we were all desirous of seeing the people and shops. Unfortunately it was a great festival,

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and many thousands were in the streets. I believe I was the first lady who had been seen in the town — certainly Eva was the first child - so the curiosity was excessive, and eventually very distressing. My husband would not turn back at first, thinking the crowd would soon separate, but it was quite the reverse. We got so far that we really did not know what to do, and tried to get into a shop, as I was almost frightened to death, to escape from the multitude of our admirers; but this had no effect. The proprietor, instead of receiving us hospitably, was even brutal, making hideous grimaces, growing pale with fury, nor would he allow us to remain a minute or view anything in his shop. So we were obliged to make the best of it; and as it was no use being angry with 5000 persons all around us, we determined on going back to the boat as soon as possible. On the way poor Eva began crying; but the brutes only laughed the more, and touched her frock and hat, trying to look at her hair and net, while another man was running by my side lifting my gown and flounces in order to take portraits of them. He ran by my side for several hundred yards, making hideous sketches of us, until we reached the landing-place, when, to our great vexation, we found the boat had left; but the custom-house officers behaved very well, invited us to sit down within their railings, and did their utmost to keep off the mob. This, however, was quite an impossibility even for Japanese officers, who generally can, singly, awe a large assemblage, so anxious were they to see the last of us. Alcock took Hodgson to pay a visit 'of ceremony' on the Governor and on the same day decided to leave Hodgson in temporary charge of the Consulate. In the evening the Hodgsons went to visit the temple which was to be their future home. The first thing Mrs Hodgson saw was 'an enormous dead viper'. Despite the viper her first impression of the temple was reasonably encouraging: Its situation is far from beautiful, being on the edge of a low cape, far from the town (which rejoiced me, as I shall see less of the people), surrounded by handsome pines, and haviijg a limited view of the bay. We had in all seven rooms, about .eight feet high, and the largest (which is small) is to be office and dining-room; but a very gloomy one, I fear. My own room, which is to be a ma volonte, either of one or two pieces, as I move the sliding partitions, was light and gay, with an agreeable aspect to the north and the bay. This is to be my bedroom, and every afternoon the drawing-room, for we have the society of

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two charming young men, who are attached to the Consulate, and are to live with us. ... Her first night ashore was however 'never to be forgotten'. She had no mosquito curtains and was devoured by mosquitoes. When she got up on the following morning she was more tired than when she went to bed and her face was 'such a perfect horror' that for three days she saw nobody! She continued to have some disagreeable experiences. 'Imagine my terror and disgust, when, on rising from my bed, I was about to touch the mat with my feet, and I saw a - what do you think? - a vile reptile, a detestable serpent within a few inches of me! I shrieked for aid. . . . My maid heard my cry, and summoned one of the Japanese to the rescue. The servant caught the snake, but would not kill it.' Another day, while criticizing some Japanese pictures in my drawing-room, I heard the sound of something falling close to me. Rather alive to the visit of unpleasant guests, I looked whence the sound came, and beheld a really prodigious and ugly round mass gently unrolling its folds. This was another serpent, which had fallen from the roof; and it reminded me too painfully that I was to expect visitors from above as well as below. Before I could hail any one it was gone, after silently looking at me, as much as to say, 'I will call again.' The centipedes also are my constant and assiduous admirateurs. One evening I was playing at trente-et-un with some friends, and was rejoicing at my good luck, when one of the gentlemen suddenly rose from his seat, and, without saying a word, most impertinently, as I thought, struck me a heavy blow on the shoulder. Before I had time to ask any questions, he told me 'not to be afraid, for it was only an insect;' but it required the hearty blow of a good sword to exterminate and destroy a very large and thick mailed centipede, which was crawling up my white muslin dress, and would soon have found a road over my neck and shoulders. . . . Four-footed animals gave us nightly entertainment, not of the most musical sort. Rats, as huge as cats, danced and squeaked over my head, either for their own amusement or to escape the pursuit of wild ferrets. Very often have I been awakened at night by fear, thinking the noise was caused by ghosts or some unearthly visitors, and it required some considerable time to accustom myself to these nocturnal orgies. A Residence at Nagasaki and Hakodate in 1859-1860 The first British Consulate at Nagasaki was in the Myogoji temple which stands on the brow of a hill in Minami Yamate. According to M.

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Paske-Smith, another small temple nearby was later rented for the consular assistant Dr Myburgh. George Morrison who took over from Hodgson, as soon as he could reach Japan in 1859 reported to Alcock how thoroughly unsatisfactory the accommodation was: When all that is possible for its improvement has been done, I shall have for my personal accommodation, for all the requirements of residence and entertainment, two small rooms, a bath room and a kitchen. The other gentlemen will have each a small apartment and a common kitchen; eaves and verandahs boarded in and stable shed and such like accommodation is devoted to the servants and watchmen. The constable will be provided for in the outbuildings. We are deserted of an evening by our native establishment as there is at present no place at their disposal. Western Barbarians in Japan Morrison added that the paper windows provided no security against intrusion and robbery. The residences of foreigners are robbed night after night, and their property is pilfered day after day.' Nevertheless the consulate remained in the Myogoji temple until 1864; some improvements seem to have been eventually authorized by a stingy government. George Morrison was forthright in support of his own position in other ways. On 2 September 1859 he demanded an increase in his emoluments. He declared that, despite the fact that his personal habits were of the 'most abstemious' he had nearly exhausted in the few weeks that he had been in the post 'a supply of wines and stores to the value of upwards of Fifty pounds' in necessary entertainment: I would take the liberty to urge that some compensation more than bare subsistence is due, in consideration of an exile to the extremity of the earth, of banishment from society and from the relations of home, and exposure to discomforts and privations difficult to depict and cruel to endure, I say nothing of the climate, which is for some months in every year destructive to health and even to property, or of the water we have to use, which at this port is so bad as to be almost poisonous. Neither do I dwell on the important and harassing duties with which a Consul is entrusted. Merchants only endure the condition of things represented in the hope of speedily acquiring a fortune and quitting these scenes for ever while they afford their clerks a higher remuneration than that given to Her Majesty's Consuls. Western Barbarians in Japan

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The British community One of the Consul's first duties was to produce regulations for British subjects in the port and harbour of Nagasaki. Most of these were concerned with shipping, but some, which applied to British residents in Nagasaki give an idea of the life in the town in those days: 'The discharge of firearms on shore in the neighbourhood of residences or thoroughfares . . . is strictly prohibited.' 'British subjects are strictly prohibited from using violence against Japanese offenders or taking the law into their own hands, unless in strict self defence, and where they are menaced with bodily injury.' 'Riding quickly through the streets of the town is strictly prohibited.' The foreign residents appear to have been less than conscientious in carrying out these regulations as Morrison found it necessary to reiterate them in stronger terms. On 19 November 1861 he demanded that British subjects should not ride or drive 'in such a furious or careless manner as to endanger' persons on the road. Indeed in any street of any town or village they were not to exceed 'a pace beyond that of a walk'. British subjects were also forbidden 'on any pretence' to 'assault or offer any violence to any Japanese official or functionary'. British subjects were further forbidden from persisting 'in any act of violence or outrage' after they had been warned to desist! However, on 5 January 1861 Morrison found it possible to report to his superior in Edo 'that the existing British community at this port numbers about twenty-five persons comprising merchants, small traders, compradores and a butcher, and it is satisfactory to add that it is on the whole a very well-ordered community showing no want of respect for Her Majesty's authority and giving no occasion for complaints on the part of the Japanese.' One wonders! At any rate there was, according to Paske-Smith a cryptic entry in the Consular cashbook in September 1859 '$10 for a pair of handcuffs — much needed'. In May 1860 negotiations over the site of the settlement were finally concluded and lots of land were allocated. In April 1861 a meeting was called at the Consulate to elect a Municipal Council. Nineteen land-renters were present. Until September 1860 all correspondence with the Japanese was carried out in the Dutch language. The British staff worked hard from the beginning to gain adequate knowledge of Japanese, but there were many difficulties and misunderstandings in these early days. The first English language newspaper to be published in Japan was produced in Nagasaki. The Nagasaki Shipping List and Advertiser, which first appeared on 22 June 1861, was published every Saturday and Wednesday by a Mr Hansard!

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Paske-Smith noted from the advertisements in the early numbers that there was already a foreign tailor, Messrs. Waechtel and Company, as well as a Chinese tailor, a Mr Li An Hui. Wines, liquors and beer occupied a very large space in the advertising columns, and at prices that must have made Japan a bibber's paradise. As for amusements, there was the Commercial Hotel, with a bowling alley attached; and nearby, a competitive alley kept by Mr Henry Gibson, under the name of the International Bowling saloon, where, as his advertisement modestly informed patrons, there was on hand a 'fresh supply of the best description of wines, etc. at moderate prices'. Apartments were already 'to let', consisting of bed-sitting rooms 'conveniently situated and suitable for one or two gentlemen'. A club had, of course, already been formed and a sports ground established. The first water regatta was held in Nagasaki on 26 September 1861. This consisted of eight races, including competitions between fouroared gigs, Japanese sampans, native houseboats and sailing-boats. There were other diversions. The foreign naval ships which called regularly provided excuses for celebrations. In 1865, according to S. Mossman the Fete Napoleon in 1865 was a 'day of rejoicing'. 'Games of all sorts were entered into, and a ball was given by a wealthy resident in the evening, when the French Consulate and several residences were brilliantly illuminated.' Christmas festivities were kept up with great spirit. In the morning a paper hunt was got up, much to the astonishment of the natives, who could not imagine the reason which induced the staid and sober foreign merchants to dress themselves in red coats and scour the country after pieces of paper. The plan upon which the new settlement at Nagasaki was laid out, on an eligible site overlooking the most picturesque harbour in Japan, was infintely superior to the miserable mud flat of Yokohama. The streets were wider and naturally drained by the declivity into the sea, besides a fair system of artificial drainage to carry off the sewage. These streets were paved with stone footways, rendering them dry, and free of slush in wet weather, while the carriage ways were wide and macadamized. But the best of all improvements — what Yokohama had not yet got - was the lighting of the streets at night with gas, the lampposts being after the English model. All these public works were maintained at the expense of the Japanese, in consideration of the ground-rent paid by foreigners. New Japan, the Land of the Rising Sun

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An early British visitor to Nagasaki was Robert Fortune, a naturalist, who arrived there in the autumn of 1860: Opposite Deshima, and on the other side of the bay, the Japanese have a large factory in active operation. The machinery has been imported from Europe, and the superintendents are Dutch. The Japanese workmen appear to be most expert hands at moulding and casting, and in the general management of steam machinery. In this respect they are far in advance of their neighbours the Chinese. Indeed, to adopt everything foreign which they suppose to be useful, however different it may be from what they possess themselves, and to make themselves masters of the mode of working it, is a marked feature in the character of the Japanese people. Fortune was amused by a procession which he encountered one day: It consisted of little children, some so small that they could hardly walk, who were dressed in the Dutch military costume cocked hats, tailed-coats, with epaulets, dress swords, and everything in the first style, closely resembling Mynheer on galadays. In this procession. Dutch fraus and frauleins were duly represented, and truth compels me to say that they were never shown off to more advantage. The procession was accompanied by a band, dressed up also in an appropriate manner: they had European instruments, and played European music. The day was fine; thousands of people lined the streets, flags were hung from every window, and altogether the scene was most amusing. I followed the procession through the principal streets and then up to a large temple situated on the hill-side above the town. Here the infantine troop was put through various military manoeuvres, which were executed in a most creditable manner. I was amused at the gravity with which everything was done. Yedo and Peking Fortune took the opportunity to visit the famous German doctor and naturalist, Philip Franz von Siebold, who was then living outside Nagasaki. Von Siebold had been the doctor to the Dutch mission when he was a young man, but had been expelled from Japan for alleged spying. He had been caught copying Japanese maps of Japan! He was a renowned Japanese scholar. Fortune noted that von Siebold's house was some distance away from that of any other European. Von Siebold's 'delight' seemed to be his garden, his library, and 'the Japanese country people who are his friends'.

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Fortune found von Siebold at home and was received most kindly. He noted that on a level with the house and around it were 'small nurseries for the reception and propagation of new plants, and for preparing them for transportation to Europe'. Here he saw examples of most of the plants figured and described in von Siebold's great work, the Flora Japonica. Fortune was impressed by von Siebold's knowledge of the Japanese language and apparent popularity. Von Siebold confirmed that he 'liked the Japanese and believed the regard was mutual; and with a slight cast of sarcasm in his countenance, continued: "It is not necessary for me to carry a revolver in my belt, like the good people in Deshima and Nagasaki."' An early visitor of a rather different kind was the Right Reverend George Smith, Bishop of Victoria, Hong Kong. The Bishop was pompous, prudish and prolix. He stayed for five weeks in a temple in Nagasaki with the Revd C. M. Williams, a missionary from the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States. Mr Williams inhabited two rooms boarded off from the general area of the temple, and sheltered by a partition from the cold wind. One of these was appropriated to my use. My camp-bed was spread; a table, chair, and other necessary furniture were extemporised for the occasion. In half an hour's time I was comfortably domiciled in my new abode. Our priest-landlord took considerable interest in the arrangement of my quarters, and betrayed no scruples in volunteering to remove the image of Buddha's mother and the usual implements of idolatrous worship from a small chapel in the adjoining court, in the event of our requiring an extension of our lodging. . . . From our elevation of 200 feet above the general level of the city, we commanded one of the finest views which imagination could picture to the eye. At our feet lay the city, streets and thoroughfares, crowded with busy wayfarers. Beyond it stretched the magnificent harbour with its spacious waters, the upper part of the inner bay being covered with shipping, native and European. In the distance a grand amphitheatre of verdure-clad hills closed in the prospect; while every spot of the rising acclivity in the immediate vicinity of our own dwelling'was crowded with tombstones and family mausoleums, interspersed amid plantations of green trees and shrubs, which were frequented every evening by crowds of worshippers visiting the tombs of their fore-fathers and renewing the pious offerings of fresh garlands and newly-gathered flowers. The Bishop took an early opportunity of visiting the British Consul, and

22

Victorians in Japan

'calling at the houses of the principal European and American mercantile residents, forming at the present time, with the captains of a few foreign vessels in port, and a small number of officers of the Dutch factory, a community of about sixty persons.' He made an early 'visit of ceremony' with the British Consul to the Governor of Nagasaki. The nature of the Bishop's office had been previously explained to the Governor and the Bishop's ministrations among the foreign community on the Sunday had 'doubtless been duly announced by native spies'. The British Consul, the consular surgeon and myself, after crossing in a boat over a part of the harbour and landing on the north-eastern side of the bay, proceeded on small Japanese horses through a few streets, and at length arrived before what must in courtesy only be called the palace of the Governor. We passed into an outer court surrounded with a few sheds and outhouses, some of them stored with lumber and none of them affording signs of marked affluence or wealth. At the entrance of an outer room the Governor and the two Vice-Governors received us with due formality and preceded us into the inner refection-room. Two rows of tables extended down the length of the room; . . . the three highest native officials were placed at one table immediately facing and seated on chairs corresponding with the three foreign guests. Nearly a dozen other twosworded officials were seated lower down in the room; and only the native interpreters and reporters occupied the usual squatting posture on the ground. . . . The Governor was a man apparently about thirty-five years of age. His two subordinates were men more advanced in life, and probably between fifty and sixty years of age. A collation of tea, hot wine and spirituous liquors with sweet-meats, cakes and fruit, was handed round, and the usual civilities of Japanese hospitality were exchanged. After a few preliminary compliments an attempt was made to enter upon a conversation; but hereupon great difficulties were experienced. The chief Governor was afraid to commit himself by any definite reply on any given subject however trivial or unimportant; and referred to the Vice Governor, his official subordinate and spy. He again referred to the third official, himself fulfilling also the duties of deputy, councillor, controller-general and spy. Everything passed through a native interpreter, a young man of intelligent, quick and cunning aspect, who, alternately rising on his knees and bowing to the floor, rendered our English sentences into Japanese, adding ex-

The Treaty ports: Nagasaki

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planations and suggestions of his own, and joining in the laughing tones in which every sentence was repeated. . . . Everything was received with affected peals of laughter. They chuckled and laughed again, and endeavoured with an ill success to assume the manner of persons well at ease. Every question was handed about from one to the other; and then when they had turned it round and round, and surveyed it from every point of view, they commissioned the interpreter to give some vague reply, and thus endeavoured to pursue the even tenor of official non-committal and reserve. The Consul informed me that this is their usual levity of manner, and that the announcement of some great calamity of widespread conflagration or swallowing up of a city by an earthquake is introduced with more than ordinary accompaniments of lightheartedness and laughter. Although unwilling to communicate information, they were inquisitive in seeking intelligence respecting foreign places. . . . It was not until the close that we noticed the rapid motion of pen with which a native reporter was recording our words and passing with hurried movement from page to page. Every incident of the interview was doubtless made the subject of an official report. Ten Weeks in Japan British merchants: Thomas Glover In these early days Nagasaki was an important trading centre. The principal exports were silk, tea, tobacco, camphor and vegetable wax. Among the most important imports were ships and arms. A chamber of commerce to promote trade at Nagasaki was established as early as June 1861 by seven leading British and American firms. The British merchants were the prime movers and their three representatives on the chamber committee were Thomas Glover, the outstanding British merchant throughout the 1860s, William J. Alt and Robert Arnold. Glover was born in Aberdeen in 1838 and died in 1911 in Tokyo. He was active in Nagasaki from 1859 until 1875, but his hey-day was from 1861 to 1870 when he became bankrupt. Glover arrived in Nagasaki in September 1859 and registered at the British Consulate as 'Clerk etc.' to K. R. Mackenzie, a Scottish merchant and an agent for Jardine, Matheson & Co. In May 1861, as Mackenzie was about to move to Hankow, Glover established himself as a general commission agent, working for Jardine Matheson, Dent &c Co and Sassoon & Co. Of these three companies Jardine Matheson were the most important to his business. At first Glover's main interest was the export of refined tea to Britain. He

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also imported cotton and woollen goods as well as coal. After 1863 he found that he could purchase and export Japanese coal. But in the years 1864-7 his main business was in selling ships and arms and ammunition to Japanese Daimyo opposed to the Tokugawa Shogunate. He was also active at this time, in cooperation with Jardine Matheson, in facilitating travel by young samurai from the outer (Tozama fiefs). The profit from ship sales appears to have been equally divided between Glover and Jardine Matheson. Between 1864 and 1867 Glover & Co sold twenty ships for a total of 1,176,000 dollars; this constituted about 30 per cent of the total import of ships into Nagasaki in this period. Glover's business in arms and ammunition was considerable and his connections with the Satsuma fief (the modern Kagoshima) were close. Dr William Willis, then surgeon to the British Legation, recorded a visit to Kagoshima in 1866. Willis wrote in a letter dated 30 September 1866: There is a merchant at Nagasaki named Glover who supplies the intelligent and simple-minded natives of this part of the world with arms and many other useful and dangerous appliances.' He added that the Prince of Satsuma was 'deeply in debt to the House of Glover and Co and as this is a great lever, and as our chief is always ready for anything, Mr Glover arranged an interview and, as far as I could see, he was by far the most important visitor, Minister and Admiral included.' Glover made a loan to Satsuma on behalf of Jardine Matheson's Hong Kong office in 1865. Glover faced increasing difficulties following the Meiji restoration in 1868 as a result of over-expansion and the changed political circumstances in Japan. He tried to change himself from a merchant trading in goods into an industrialist and entrepreneur by developing with the agreement of the Saga clan a coal-mine at Takashima outside Nagasaki and by constructing a slip dock. He also opened branches at Hyogo and Osaka and was involved in the sale of machinery from the Hong Kong mint to the new Meiji government for use in the new mint at Osaka. He encountered difficulties in collecting debts owed to him by some of the clans before the restoration while Jardine, Matheson & Co pressed him to repay his debts. Eventually the Netherlands Trading Company took over these debts but in August 1870 Glover & Co were declared bankrupt and he was left with a debt of 400,000 dollars to the Netherlands Trading Co and some 300,000 dollars owing to other creditors. Following his bankruptcy Glover continued to work for the Takashima coal-mine and to enjoy a position of influence in Nagasaki. Eventually in 1875 after all his debts had been paid off he went to Tokyo as consultant to Mitsubishi Corporation and stayed there until his death in 1911.

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On 21 February 1863 Okubo, Bungo no Kami, Governor of Nagasaki complained to the British Consul about Glover's behaviour: The English merchant Glover seized a number of coolies for stealing some silk which he was shipping and bound them with cords besides painting the faces of seven of them with tar. They were then handed over to the police officer but no proof that they had stolen the silk was found on investigation. Those who were suspected of stealing should immediately have been sent to us with a request that enquiry should be made into the matter. It was thus very unjust that Glover should himself have taken action in the matter. Western Barbarians in Japan and Formosa in Tokugawa Days 1603-1868 The Governor requested that Glover should be punished. Glover was apparently severely reprimanded by the Consul for his part in this incident. Paske-Smith records that 'Glover was again in hot water' in 1866 'because he had mounted a gun in front of his bungalow on the hill at Nagasaki'! Glover's activities in facilitating foreign travel by samurai from the outer fiefs, especially Satsuma and Choshu, in conjunction with Jardine Matheson also led to trouble with the Japanese authorities. In 1866 the Governors of Nagasaki sent a joint protest to the British Consul about Glover's activities. The Governors declared that when they discovered that three Japanese had left without passports, they questioned Glover, 'but he replied in writing that he allowed them to leave without waiting our decision because the steamer could not delay. As regards Japanese visiting any foreign country it is clearly stated in the Treaty that foreigners must not take them away without passports from our Government even when they are in a hurry and Mr Glover's conduct is against our law.' The Governors demanded the return to Japan of the three Japanese in question and 'that a proper punishment be inflicted on Mr Glover'. As a result of this letter, Glover was again reprimanded by the Consul. This was by no means his first offence, for it was well known that he had connived at the escape from Japan of some Choshu samurai including Ito Hirobumi, Inoue Kaoru and others who were to become some of the most important leaders of the new Meiji government. When Dr William Willis arrived in the spring of 1862 in Nagasaki on his way to Edo, he stayed at the house of Thomas Glover: It is surprising the affluence of all good things here and to say that people live here like fighting cocks would give but a small idea of

26

Victorians in Japan the real comforts that are to be found in Nagasaki. It is the custom here to have some eggs and tea early in the morning and a late breakfast at 12 p.m., where all good things of the season and a number of European delicacies are met with, such as can be preserved. Dinner is at 7 p.m. equally good. The beef here is almost equal to English beef; there is no mutton and the sheep either does not exist at all in Japan or very few in number. This I wonder at as the Japanese adopt almost immediately anything foreign worth having. Dr Willis in Japan 1862-1877

The many problems which the merchants in Nagasaki faced were summarised in a letter which Glover (despite his bankruptcy in the previous year) sent to Mr Consul Flowers in Nagasaki on 30 December 1871. Glover thought that the Treaty, together with the Convention of June 1866 and the revised tariff of duties, had worked well and the scale of duties was fair 'on the whole'. However there were difficulties. For instance, tea exported from Nagasaki was inferior in quality to tea from other districts, but was taxed at the same rate as at other ports. Land rents were too high' and a 'considerable reduction' should be made. Chinese merchants should be made to pay equal duties with subjects of other nations 'as there is no doubt that these traders evade the full payment of tariff duty, and become unfair competitors against the European and American'. Following the 'liberal' manner in which the Japanese had provided lighthouses and other harbour facilities, they could ask for an increase in port dues, but the system of charging equal fees for vessels of different tonnage was unfair. Glover then turned to the subject of minerals in which he had a strong business interest: Too much care and attention cannot, in my opinion, be given to this subject, as it is not only against the interest of England that heavy drafts of coal be yearly made on her already-diminished veins; but it is against all the laws of trade to bring 'coals to Newcastle', in other words - to make it necessary to furnish our steamers, both navy and merchant, with fuel from distant countries, while Japan can produce it in quantity and quality to supply the whole East, if proper facilities are granted, and encouragement given to capitalists to invest, and engineers to manage the opening up of the mineral districts of this country. In countless ways would it benefit the Japanese as well as the foreigners. Glover's reference to British coal veins being diminished reads somewhat oddly today; the coal-mining industry in Kyushu has been

The Treaty ports: Nagasaki

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much more depleted! Glover thought that the 'disbanded Samurai class would find employment well-suited/to their inclinations' in the mines: Native engineers and mechanics in great numbers would find suitable occupation and good wages. This in itself is very important to Japan at the present moment, and will be so for a long time, until the immense body of idle Samurai are employed; and from the writer's personal notice no work is so inviting and suited to that non-merchant class, as the management of machinery, supervision of coolies, and the numerous other posts of responsibility connected with mining. Glover noted the existence of valuable minerals and urged that a safe basis be found for working mineral mines, 'by which a fair royalty is secured to the Sovereign of Japan, and a certain acknowledgment given to the foreign capitalist to induce money and engineers from other countries being imported into the country.' He thought that in manufactures and other staples Japan, 'from its extent', could 'be of very little value to foreign countries compared to China, but in its mineral products can be made of immense value to all nations', and would become a great field for European skilled labour and machinery. To the Japanese nation, with its acquired taste for expensive form of Government and necessary naval and military requirements, it would supply, from present stony and barren lands, an immense increase of revenue, and be the means of raising large and flourishing villages, where at present but the fisherman's hut exists. . . . I speak from experience when I say that it will be far more advantageous to all concerned that officials in the pay of the Government do not interfere in the working of the mines, but simply see that the proper duty be secured to the Sovereign, and the merchant be permitted to find the capital and to carry out the working of the mines, as in our own country under a proper form of lease. Glover went on to make some more general observations: Many foreigners, and even natives of position and intellect, advocate the opening of the whole of Japan. This, I consider, would be throwing on an over-weak Government more responsibility and dangers than it can possibly undertake and manage, without in any way benefiting other than the curious

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visitor, who would feel inclined to roam over Japan for his own personal pleasure. To the merchant it would prove, as in the case of China, so many extra items of expense in having to maintain establishments and staffs of assistants at numerous ports where he would find the same produce, but divided into small parcels. By having, as at present, open ports at different points, easily getatable from the different producing districts, Japan is not so large but that its produce will find its way to our present opened ports, and that at a much cheaper rate than if the foreigner had to forward it. ... Many people argue, that the Japanese want their country opened entirely; but only those who have witnessed the lawless acts of many of our countrymen, know what would be the result of misbehaviour perpetrated in some of the districts of Japan, where nothing but Japanese custom and quiet have reigned. . . . As numerous foreigners are being employed by the Japanese at very high salaries, I consider that our Representatives would be doing their subjects and the Japanese great benefit by seeing that these men are what they represent themselves to be, as, with people like the Japanese, first impressions are very lasting, and uneducated and unprincipled assistants and teachers may bring a curse on our countrymen, and debar good men from finding lucrative employment and prevent the minds of the Japanese from being educated.. Glover then turned to the question of religious toleration. The Meiji government had not yet accepted the practice of Christianity outside the Treaty ports. The treatment of the hidden Christians of Urakami in Kyushu, who had somehow continued to retain a form of Christian belief throughout the Tokugawa period, despite the proscription of Christianity and the fierce persecution of Christians, had aroused pressures abroad for a change in the Japanese official attitude. Glover thought that this problem would require close consideration, if bloodshed and trouble were to be avoided: I have talked much with those well calculated to know what the good effects of religion are, and what would be the result were it allowed to be freely preached and practised in their country during the next thirty years. 'It is good,' say they all, 'but we are not ready for it. Our Government is too weak to stand such a sweeping revolution, but soon it must come on us; and if it does so by degrees, and as the minds of the people voluntarily accept it, well and good; but to allow free scope to it now, civil war, a

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new Government, and a recurrence of what Japan has already witnessed, would be the result.' The seed of religion is already planted, and is daily becoming fruit amongst the native converts. Let the present Government refrain from all persecution, but prevent all steps on the part of our Ministers to preach religion, or attempt to make converts, and Japan will have Christianity when the state of the country, and the minds of the people are ripe for it. F. O. Records Coal-mines One of Thomas Glover's visitors in 1872 was a Major W. M. Bell. He noted that Glover's house commanded an 'exquisite view' and was surrounded by a beautiful garden. He thought Nagasaki bay 'a mingling of Killarney and the Trossachs; not so much one large whole, as small recurring bits of beauty'. He also mentioned the bund with the 'plain, unpretending, two-storeyed wood houses and offices' which the foreigners had put up. He visited a coal-mine 'near the entrance to the harbour': We went down the mine by a shaft of some 160 feet, and found a splendid seam of coal eight feet high, very good for steam purposes. The colliers were chiefly two-sworded men, who, when we arrived, bowed in the peculiar manner of the country, rubbing their knees with the palms of their hands; and when they came up from their grimy occupation took a hot bath in open day. Other Countries, vol. II The mine was also visited by Captain B. W. Bax, RN, who noted that the shaft was about 200 yards deep. 'Some of the galleries were driven below the sea, requiring steam pumps to be kept constantly working to prevent the salt water from accumulating and flooding the mines, as the strata is very leaky.' He recorded that on one occasion when an old gallery was flooded 'many Japanese were drowned'. He also wrote: 'There were many women employed, who wore a light dress, while the men wore very little indeed; all of them washed themselves constantly in the water courses leading to the pumps along the side of the gallery, and containing a plentiful supply of salt water.' Tea As we have seen, one of the main exports from Nagasaki in these early days was tea. Mrs Alt left a brief account of the process of teafiring as she remembered it:

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Victorians in Japan In our early days in Nagasaki excitement was raised by the sudden whim of the great American nation in favour of drinking Japanese tea. My husband quickly responded by getting ready and sending off the first ship that left Japan with an entire load of Japanese tea. I think she was called the 'Swanley'. It was the beginning of the tea season when the crops were coming in from the neighbouring country. It came in quite raw and the tea leaves had to be dried and then packed, and, under the circumstances of haste, the drying (or firing} and packing had to be done in the quickest possible time. The firing is done in large 'godowns' or warehouses. . . . The firing went on night and day in shifts - about three or four hundred people working at a time — as many women as men it seemed to me. I went to see the work at night with my husband and it was a kind of inferno. There were hundreds of copper pans of red hot charcoal and over these were being dried the raw green leaves of the tea, jerked from side to side of large flat baskets - never still for a moment. The large high building lighted by flares of some kind, the burning charcoal, the misty dust or steam from the leaves, the perspiring men and women, the former almost quite naked, the latter naked to the waist - it was an inferno! Then added to these sights there was a din of indescribable noise - the packing of the tea seemed to be going on in the same great hall or shed, which packing seemed mostly to consist of the wooden chests into which men were pouring the already 'fired' tea being shaken violently from one side to the other, to make the tea settle down. . . . We used not to drink Japanese tea as it was so astringent and bitter. 'Some Memories'

Nagasaki in decline After the Meiji restoration Nagasaki's importance as a trading port declined steadily. It continued to be a port of call for European and American shipping and was much used by visitors from China who went there during the summer months to recover their health. They stayed generally in bungalows surrounding the harbour. In 1883 Daniel Pidgeon commented that Nagasaki was 'a dead port'. There were, he said, 'only four European merchants left in the place, and enterprise either in despair, or to console itself, has taken refuge in keeping grog-shops. Everything in the foreign quarter looks decayed and lifeless, while even the native town is dull, dirty and uninteresting'. However Nagasaki continued to be visited by foreign men-ofwar.

The Treaty ports: Nagasaki

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Major General Reveley Mitford recorded that hostilities almost broke out between a British and a Russian ship in the late 1890s: After an early breakfast we went on deck, to find a bright sunny morning shining its welcome to the strangers. Near us lay a French frigate; a little farther was the Russian ironclad Vladimir Monomach, and close to her the English gun-boat Audacious, which had stuck to her track so persistently during the period of our 'strained relations' with Russia in 1885, and had so narrowly escaped creating a rupture of those 'relations' in these very waters; for the Russian commander, annoyed at the tenacity with which he was followed and watched by the much smaller but really more powerful vessel, had the audacity to beat to quarters, put out his boarding-nettings, get up steam, and train his guns on the Audacious as the latter entered Nagasaki harbour, in which the Vladimir Monomach had just anchored. The English Captain, with a dignified command of temper for which he cannot be too highly praised, anchored his vessel right athwart the hawse of the Russian and immediately reported the state of affairs to the Japanese authorities on shore, who no less promptly intervened by anchoring their two gunboats (which happened to be in harbour at the time) one on each side of the foreign ships, with orders to blaze into whichever should fire first and break the peace in Japanese waters. The Russian, not liking this aspect of affairs, weighed anchor, and without attempting any explanation or offering any apology for what was not only a gross breach of etiquette, but an overt act of hostility, steamed out of the harbour closely followed by the Audacious, both of them being jealously tracked by the Japanese vessels until they had passed the regulation limits - twenty-five miles from shore - by which time the Russian seems to have recovered his senses and temper. Orient and Occident Nagasaki retained its charm for Rudyard Kipling in 1889: This morning, after the sorrows of the rolling night, my cabin port-hole showed me two great grey rocks studded and streaked with green and crowned by two stunted blue-black pines. Below the rocks a boat, that might have been carved sandal-wood for colour and delicacy, was shaking out an ivory-white frilled sail to the wind of the morning. An indigo-blue boy with an old ivory face hauled on a rope. Rock and tree and boat made a panel from a Japanese screen, and I saw that the land was not a

32

Victorians in Japan lie ... I was in Japan - the Japan of cabinets and joinery, gracious folk and fair manners. Japan, whence the camphor and the lacquer and the shark-skin swords come; among — what was it the books said—a nation of artists. . . . There was a yellow-shot greenness upon the hills round Nagasaki different, so my willing mind was disposed to believe, from the green of other lands. It was the green of a Japanese screen, and the pines were screen pines. The city itself hardly showed from the crowded harbour. It lay low among the hills, and its business face - a grimy bund - was sloppy and deserted. Business, I wa rejoiced to learn, was at a low ebb in Nagasaki. The Japanese should have no concern with business. Close to one of the still wharves lay a ship of the Bad People; a Russian steamer down from Vladivostok. Her decks were cumbered with raffle of all kinds; her rigging was as frowsy and draggled as the hair of a lodging-house slavey, and her sides were filthy. That,' said a man of my people, 'is a very fair specimen of a Russian. You should see their men-of-war; they are just as filthy. Some of 'em come into Nagasaki to clean.'... If you look for extravagance of colour, for flaming shop-fronts and glaring lanterns, you shall find none of these things in the narrow stone-paved streets of Nagasaki. But if you desire details of house construction, glimpses of perfect cleanliness, rare taste, and perfect subordination of the thing made to the needs of the maker, you shall find all you seek and more. All the roofs are full lead colour, being shingled or tiled, and all the house-fronts are of the colour of the wood God made.. . . There is neither smoke nor haze, and in the clean light of a clouded sky I could see down the narrowest alleyway as into the interior of a cabinet. .. Japan is a soothing place for a small man. Nobody comes to tower over him, and he looks down upon all the women, as is right and proper. A dealer in curiosities bent himself double on his own doormat, and I passed in, feeling for the first time that I was a barbarian and no true Sahib. The slush of the streets was thick on my boots, and he, the immaculate owner, asked me to walk across a polished floor and white mats to an inner chamber. He brought me a foot-mat, which only made matters worse, for a pretty girl giggled round the corner as I toiled at it. Japanese shopkeepers ought not to be so clean. I went into a boarded passage about two feet wide, found a gem of a garden of dwarfed trees, in the space of half a tennis-court, whacked my head on a fragile lintel, and arrived at a four-walled daintiness where I involuntarily lowered my voice. From Sea to Sea and other Sketches

Hakodate Hakodate was the second of the two ports mentioned in Article I of the Convention concluded by Admiral Stirling at Nagasaki on 14 October 1854. It was also one of the three original Treaty ports listed in the Treaty of Yedo of 26 August 1858. Hakodate was chosen because of its relative proximity to the north Pacific whaling areas and because of the need for a port of refuge in this area. It was not at the time the Japanese administrative centre for the island of Ezo (the modern Hokkaido). This was Matsumae to the west of Hakodate, but Hakodate had been developed as a fishing port and was more convenient for foreign vessels than Matsumae. An early visitor One of the first British officers to visit Hakodate was J. M. Tronson, who had accompanied Admiral Stirling to Japan in 1854. He noted that the bay of Hakodate was 'protected from the east wind by a prominent range of hills; the isthmus connecting which with the mainland is a mile and a half long, and narrow: it is a marsh or bog on a shingle base. Part of the town is built on the side facing the harbour; the other is for pasture, and fronts the open straits: here are large sandhills. On either side is a strand shelving very gradually; and there is a continual surf or rollers on the exposed shore.' Tronson and a friend landed one day 'more for a ramble through the country than in pursuit of game'. They 'struck into an extensive marsh, very wet, turfy, and similar to marshes in England and Ireland, where we met with but one brace of ducks. . . . Having succeeded in getting our feet and legs tolerably wet, we got out of the marsh and entered on a wide moorland, dry and turfy, affording good pasturage for horses, many of the latter browsing at their ease.' [They] 'passed a large Japanese fort, newly erected. It consisted of a strong square earthwork, surrounded by a deep moat; four gates, with protecting outworks, were placed at different parts of the fort; and a stockade surrounded the summit.' Tronson thought it had been built very recently. No guns had yet been mounted. Passing the fort they soon reached an extensive tract of country cultivated in fields; the soil rich, black and deep. 'As we sat down by the sheltered side of a shed to enjoy a cheroot, and watch a flock of geese that were 33

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feeding near, we were joined by a peasant who had been at work, but whose curiosity overcame his agricultural zeal. . . . Putting aside his spade he sat beside us, anxiously learning an odd word of English "inglese, yes! Coat, yes, coat! Pipe! yes, pipe!" Having repeated the monosyllables a few times, and satisfied himself of the pronunciation, he went on his way rejoicing.' They passed through some villages where they found 'the people civil and polite, and in general very cleanly'. They got 'some of the youngsters together, and allowed them to practise discharging the guns; which greatly pleased them, though they were at first very timid'. Later in the summer Tronson visited a 'tea garden' near Hakodate. 'The afternoon was very inviting for a walk, the hot temperature having been cooled during the day by frequent showers. . . . Wild strawberries along the hedgerows by the side of the roads were ripe, large, and tempting to the eye; beautifully marked beetles of many varieties ventured to taste of their sweetness, and seemed loth to part from the delicious fruit.' However an old man warned them that the fruit was poisonous and could cause swellings. At the tea garden they found the water lilies in bloom. [They] came upon a social party of Japanese ladies and gentlemen at tea in a pretty summer house. We bowed to them on passing, and as we did not wish to intrude upon their privacy, were about to withdraw, when a young gentleman arose, came towards us, and begged us to enter and partake of some tea. We gladly acceded to his request, and were soon at ease with our new aquaintances. . . . Four married ladies sat together on one side, and near them an old gentleman; opposite sat a young Japanese officer and two young ladies, one about seventeen years of age, the other about twenty: the latter were very pretty. We little dreamed of seeing such beauties in this retired spot. . . . The elder was the handsomer of the two, and the chief object of attraction to the young officer; as he frequently gave us an opportunity of observing, by placing an arm around her waist and looking lovingly into her eyes. There was gracefulness in all her attitudes, especially when she took up a guitar [a samisen is meant] at the request of her lover, and played a few airs for us; but the music was rather monotonous and without harmony: at least our dull ears could not detect any. She accompanied herself in a song, in a falsetto tone: a species of whine, not altogether so discordant as that of the Chinese, yet merely bearable from its strangeness. The sister now joined in a duet, one endeavouring to outshriek the other.

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 35 Our elder hosts were in raptures with the performance, and they wondered at our stolidity. . . . After tea they introduced pipes and some light wine. The Englishmen found the Japanese tobacco very mild and without flavour. So they asked permission to light cheroots instead. As night was coming on they took their leave 'making our best bows and shaking hands with them individually'. As Tronson was leaving the officer begged him to accept a coin. Tronson did so on 'his receiving from me a small new silver coin of Her Most Gracious Majesty's reign'. One day Tronson visited a temple in Hakodate and was invited by 'a good-humoured* priest to partake of tea and tobacco. A goodly number of priests, fat and lazy, surrounded me; their faces of the consistence and complexion of tallow, and their small eyes appeared too heavy to open. They were encased in grey robes, and the loose tunic folded down on the closely shorn neck, left the front of the chest exposed to view. . . . I do not know if celibacy is strictly enjoined on these devout men, but unless there was a convent attached, I could not account for the number of women and girls who joined us from time to time as we sat sipping our tiny cups of tea. I had a small flask of brandy with me, which their reverences thought very good; and so did some of the black-teethed dames. . . . The streets of Hakodate are built in regular order, in parallel rows, connected by cross streets. Few of the houses are more than one storey in height, with an attic which is used as a storeroom. The houses are built of wood, with but few exceptions; the roofs are low, tiled, almost flat, and covered with a layer of large round stones: a large bucket of water is also placed upon the roof, in case of fire — a very necessary precaution, as owing to the structure of the houses, fires are prevalent, and spread with alarming rapidity. The fronts of the houses are open to the street; deep projecting eaves keep off the rain or strong sunbeams. At night the fronts are closed by folding doors, or rather sliding shutters, which run in a groove to the end of the house, where they are received in a box-like receptacle. . . . The apartment open towards the street is used as the shop; here on an elevated floor, sits the owner, or some member of the family, shoeless, surrounded by various wares for sale. Charcoal stoves, crockery of all descriptions, metals, sandals, umbrellas, calicoes, picture books, childrens' toys, pipes, tobacco pouches, tobacco cut as fine as floss silk, knives, stewpans, coarse lacquer-ware, common silks and oiled paper

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Victorians in japan garments; all these are hung around or ranged on shelves. On entering a shop such as I have described, which is one of the commoner sort, you are invited to sit down. The vendor meanwhile passively smokes his pipe, empties the ashes and refills; this he does for six or eight times, and with an exclamation between a sigh and a grunt, retires to cleanse his mouth and returns.

Tronson enjoyed visiting a respectable old physician who had 'two lovely daughters'. He confessed that, had they been very plain, his visits would not have been so frequent. The doctor showed Tronson many of his patients; 'some afflicted with ophthalmia (a hopeless case); others with scabies, herpes, and many other skin diseases.' The only part of the doctor's treatment which met with Tronson's approval was 'the daily use of the warm bath'. The only surgical instruments used by the doctor were needles and moxas. His shop 'was well stocked with simples: roots cut, sliced, and pounded; barks and leaves, dried snakes, deer's horns, fish-skins, and minerals; also various preparations of arsenic and mercury, crystallized calomel and crystallized vermillion.' He also described the bazaar, [established] for the sale of provisions and curiosities to foreigners. It was situated in the priest's apartments attached to a temple, a little way removed from the main street. A long and low apartment, forming one side of a square or courtyard, was fitted up with tables. . . . A retired corner, furnished with mats and tables, was set apart for the officials who superintended the sales. . . . Each morning the bazaar was opened in form by a band of officials, who in solemn state marched from the Government House, with spears, banners, and axes borne before them: they looked awfully grand, and seemed sufficiently impressed with ideas of their own importance. There were also interpreters, custom-house officers, spies, and understrappers; each one keeping a watchful eye on his neighbour. Having taken their seats, opened their sale books, and filled their pipes, the signal was given that the bazaar was opened for the day. Immediately men laden with the choicest articles of the shops began coming in, and unburdening themselves, laid the wares out in order for sale; and when all were exposed to view the sight was novel and imposing. The items on sale were similar to those in the bazaars in Nagasaki. Tronson bought a mariner's compass which 'when compared with the standard compass of the Barracouta, was perfectly correct'. He thought that the most singular articles were oiled paper coats, made

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 37 from the bark of a species of mulberry. Tronson noted that fish and vegetables were sold 'with much spirit and vigour' in one part of the bazaar. The upper part was devoted to the business of changing money. If he and his companions saw any article which they fancied in a Japanese shop it had to be sent to the bazaar where a heavy duty was levied on each article sold. 'We paid the officials for the articles purchased in good Mexican dollars, and they paid the unfortunate vendors in Japanese dollars, not half the weight of the Mexican.' Wherever he went Tronson was followed by Japanese officials: They made frequent attempts to curtail our walks, but did not once succeed; indeed, we kept them continually under a species of physical training during our stay; yet though they looked forward with pleasure for our departure, they never had the politeness to thank us for their improvement in health and agility. It being necessary for us to leave the shore for the ships each evening at sunset, every road, street, and secluded nook was explored by our sworded gentry in search of stray Englishmen; when they saw us afloat and no stragglers abroad, they breathed easily for the night, and slowly wended their way to their homes and wives, suppers and pipes; whilst the night watchmen commenced their rounds, beating the hours on two pieces of bamboo, with a dull monotonous sound. Personal Narrative of a Voyage to Japan A British Merchant Navy captain in Hakodate Another early British visitor to Hakodate was Captain Henry Holmes who recorded his arrival in the bay of Hakodate on 12 October 1859. He entered his ship at the Custom-House through an interpreter and made enquiries about the possibility of purchasing a cargo of konbu, a kind of sea-weed in demand in China. But he was disappointed as none was available. He could 'not say much for Hakodate. I found it a cold cheerless place, in a beautiful bay, reminding me of Gibraltar.' He met some of the Ainu, the indigenous inhabitants of Hokkaido: 'I took them to be Jews by their physiognomy and aquiline nose. Maybe they are part of the lost tribe.' William Keswick of Jardine, Matheson & Co who visited Hakodate at about the same time agreed with Holmes that Hakodate was a most miserable place. He 'was quite certain there would be no business worth looking after'. British officials arrive Soon after taking up his post in Edo in 1859 Rutherford Alcock, the first British Minister and Consul General, determined to pay a visit to

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Hakodate in order to install the British Consul. He was to be C. Pemberton Hodgson, who had been left temporarily in charge of the Consulate at Nagasaki. They left Edo in September 1859 shortly after a gale had 'blown itself out'. Nevertheless, owing to 'baffling winds' it took Alcock some ten days to travel the 600 miles between Edo and Hakodate. When they arrived the sun was shining and Alcock was favourably impressed by the fine harbour. He noted: 'Many ranges of hills in graceful lines carry the eye far into the distance, and two remarkable peaks give the distinctive features of a volcanic formation, from one of which fire and smoke are perceptible in the night. The beauty of the shore, however, is of a severe kind, for there is little luxuriance of foliage.' He found the town of Hakodate 'little better than a long fishing village'. Still, in contrast to the position at Edo, where the water was very shallow, his boat was able to get easily up to the steps of the landing-place. The high street of Hakodate was, he noted, within a few steps. 'The air is crisp, and a northerly wind is blowing, so that the nudities which first scare the European arriving at Nagasaki nowhere appear.' He was gratified by the broad streets and commented: 'Thirty horsemen may ride abreast if they choose; and even the very houses seem to disdain to jostle each other.' But he found the dwellings in the town low and miserable. He noted the stones on the roofs (to protect them against the snows and winds so prevalent in the northern winter). He doubted whether Hakodate's magnificent bay would ever see a fleet of merchantmen and a prosperous foreign trade. It was, he noted, chiefly being used by whalers. In 1858 thirty ships had called in. Of these twenty-nine were American and one French. 'Sulphur, lead, and Chinese edibles, with furs and deer-horns, are at present all that offer, and these not in large quantities. But all must have a beginning, and everything was at its commencement here.' Alcock looked at the shops in Hakodate and noted that 'almost every stall' was 'stocked with fine salmon,, weighing from fifteen to twenty pounds, many of them still alive'. They cost the equivalent of 9d. to Is. 6d. at the rate of exchange then being used. 'Unfortunately they were not in season, being soft, and ready to spawn; but that seemed no impediment to their being caught, and, it is to be presumed, eaten by the Japanese.' He also saw a lot of dried and salted fish and 'real Irish potatoes'. There were plenty of furs, 'but unfortunately the Japanese do not understand dressing them and are far inferior to the Chinese in this art'. He saw some fine bear skins and sea-otter skins as well as quantities of deer skins and deer-horns. He found 'considerable stores of seaweed, sea-slug, dried mushrooms, and other delicacies'. He was told that the population of Hakodate at that time was about 6,000 and of Ezo (Hokkaido) as a whole a mere 60,000.

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 39 Alcock wondered if the local lead mines some thirty-five miles away might provide useful exports and he determined to visit them. He was 'mounted on a good little island pony' with straw shoes. These were soon 'half-shuffled off and caused the pony to trip up 'at every step'. So Alcock dismounted and got rid of the straw shoes. 'An Englishman riding with the fore-feet of his horse muffled in straw slippers, might furnish a subject for Punch.' Alcock was accompanied by the Russian Consul who had thoughtfully brought some provisions: 'cold teal, chicken and mutton, a large case of Chinese tea already made, and good bread of Japanese flour, flanked by a bottle of sherry'. When they stopped for refreshment all they needed was 'hot water, cups, hard-boiled eggs, and fire for the cigars'. These were brought to them 'by a shrill-voiced little urchin who squinted abominably'. In the course of the repast, one or two of the gentler sex, with teeth as black as ebony, favoured us with their company - and an inspection as we lay stretched on the mats. Presently our host - not seeing I suppose, how a good bill was to be made out of hard eggs and hot water, brought in a tray of small dishes, and tried to tempt us with a huge salmon that did not look over fresh. He took our refusal to be seduced, however, very goodhumouredly. They met few travellers on the way except for a few pack-horses carrying charcoal. As it had rained during the night they had to make their way through a sea of mud. Eventually they reached the mines on a hillside: A low range of houses, then a quantity of debris from a pit, a washing-house with troughs for the ore, a smelting-house (or hut rather), and, lastly, the mouth of an adit — a horizontal gallery, leading into the heart of the hill. Being provided with an official order, a guide was immediately appointed, and putting on the coarse miner's dress, further armed with two dried bunches of bamboo as torches, we crept into the damp, dirty, dismal scene of the miners' labours. Having seriously endangered our skulls against the low roofs, and occasionally projecting beams (all the galleries were supported by timber), and plentifully imbibed through boots and stockings the water on the floors, we reached at last some of the points they were working at. But Alcock's main purpose was to install the Consul. He anticipated difficulty:

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There were, in truth, but four temples. Two were in the occupation of the Russian Consul and his staff — one had been given up to the American commercial agent - and the fourth, and best incomparably, was getting ready for the second Governor, absent on a tour of inspection. No other building, public or private, existed in the place, that could be made to answer. This was certainly an awkward state of affairs! I could not leave a Consul with his wife and family without a habitation possessing some reasonable amount of accommodation. It is very true, my ideas of what was reasonable and the Governor's were likely to be very different, as he very delicately hinted the day I took leave of him, and in a way too characteristic to be forgotten. After all was settled, and the temple had been obtained, despite the seemingly insuperable obstacle of its having been appropriated to the use of the arriving Governor, the highest authority in the island, I rose to leave. The Governor then approached, and to my surprise took me by the hand, evidently wishing to lead me somewhere. Thus led, I followed him into a corridor at the back of the room where the interview had taken place; and to the left he showed me a little room - some nine feet by six - and said very quietly, This is where the new Governor will be accommodated when he arrives.' I felt the reproach it conveyed, and could only smile, apologetically observing, that 'Probably he had neither wife nor children with him; and above all, no four-post bedsteads and sofas, or diningroom tables, any one of which would fill up the whole room!' We parted excellent friends after this final passage of arms, and I often met him in the following year at Edo as one of the Governors of Foreign Affairs. He was a fine old man, quiet and intelligent, and a very good specimen of the better class of Japanese officials employed in the high offices of the administration. On the ninth day after my arrival, the temple for which so hard a battle had been fought was taken possession of; a fine flag-staff, with the assistance of the Highflyers men, was got up, and the Union Jack was hoisted with a royal salute from the squadron, to mark the first time the flag had floated over a British consulate in the port. The next day HMS Highflyer steamed out of the harbour, to be followed in a brief interval by the other two vessels; and the British Consul would then be left alone, with one British subject to govern - and only two American citizens, and a Russian Consul with his staff - for all society. I could not help thinking, the bay must look desolate enough, when no European ship is in

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 41 its water, and only half a dozen people of European extraction on shore! A functionary can hardly be much to be envied — though a fortune and honours were at the end of a short term. As neither of them usually fall to the lot of British Consuls, I could only hope the Consul of Hakodate might carry within him and about him - something to compensate such utter isolation and banishment in the prime of life. The Capital of the Tycoon C. Pemberton Hodgson gave his account of their arrival and of his initial experiences as Consul: The Highflyer arrived at Hakodate on 5 October, late at night; and early the next morning Government officers came on board, speaking, to our great surprise, not Dutch, but very decent English. They came to welcome us on our arrival, on the part of the Governor, and brought presents of fish (fine salmon) and eggs for Mr Alcock. Mr Alcock sent a letter by them to His Excellency, requesting an interview for the morrow at noon. At noon, therefore, the Consul-General [Mr Alcock] and those he had invited landed at the Custom-house, whither Captain Shadwell had already sent his band with a party of marines and sailors, to escort him. To the well-known air of 'The British Grenadiers' we marched through the crowded streets, and were received by the kind old Governor, accompanied by a numerous suite of superior officers, at the vestibule of his chateau. I took a fancy to the old man at once, and after a year's intimate acquaintance I found that the more I saw him the more I liked him. He must have been nearly seventy, but still a stout, hale, and intelligent gentleman. The presence of the Consul-General caused great astonishment, and the Governor was no doubt gratified by such an unexpected visit; but, as at Nagasaki, the first visit was simply a visit of ceremony, although all our party was in full uniform. The reception was much kinder, the welcome much warmer, than what I had experienced at Nagasaki. It is true we had on board several thousand ichibu [coins], sent direct from the capital to the Governor (for the first time, probably, in the annals of Japanese history), and letters or rather official dispatches. We had a charming feast in the room which, in a few days later, was to be Mrs Hodgson's bedroom for a year or so. After the repast, at the suggestion of Lieutenant Smith, Mr Alcock

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proposed to the Governor that the band should enliven the interview a little with its martial strains. . . . 'Annie Laurie', 'Ye banks and braes', 'God save the Queen', had a wonderful effect, His Excellency admitting that he had never heard such music in his life, beating time and nodding to each tune as if he thoroughly enjoyed it. The band played in the Temple garden; but all around, through the fences, under the fences and over them, in the trees and on the roof, there was a crowd, such as no prima donna ever saw at the moment of her greatest triumph. The great Bugyo [Governor] sat in state, the Vice-governor, and all the grand officials were sitting or standing around him, and the usual army of two-sworded myrmidons were within call; but not even the presence of His Excellency or the sight of his yakunin [officials] could scare away this music-loving people, or prevent them breaking down the sacred hedges of [the Temple Garden]. . . . The American and Russian Consulates were in adjacent temples on either side of and close to us, and we were well-screened from the gaze of the vulgar by a good high fence and strong gates. The Governor, moreover, lent me three yakunin, so that no one could enter the Consulate without their permission. But much as I liked them I was soon obliged to part with them, as I discovered that they not only levied blackmail on all things introduced for sale by the natives, but were also faithful reporters of everything that occurred, however trifling, within the precincts of the Consulate. The name of any visitor, how long he remained, how and when he was received, were noted down with due punctuality; what vegetables, eggs, salt, or other domestic comforts were purchased, and the price of each article, was minutely inscribed; in fact, how many pipes or cigars I smoked, how often I coughed or dipped my pen in the inkstand; all and everything was the object of the closest espionage, and no doubt, within the paper screens of the gubernatorial sanctuary, the subject of serious and important conversation. The Japanese, from the greatest to the least, use (I have before observed) their thin paper for pocket-hankerchiefs; no doubt my extravagance was duly remarked. I found out, moreover, that the three yakunin of my brave army prevented the merchants, green-grocers, or other vendors from coming into the Consulate unless it pleased them. A Residence in Nagasaki and Hakodate

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 43 An Englishman with the Russians H. A. Tilley was another early visitor from Britain. He accompanied a Russian expedition. On our arrival in Nagasaki, a pig, some fish, and a basket of vegetables had been sent on board; here [in Hakodate] we had nothing of the sort. Perhaps the oft-repeated visits of ships of war, or the practice of paying ceremonial visits, or an approach to European customs, may have been the cause. Neither, after a visit paid to the governor, were the remains of our insipid feast sent after us. I think, however, from what I saw afterwards, that it was the meanness of the governor which caused such a departure from Nipon customs. On the 6th, the governor paid his visit on board. He came in a large, unpainted boat sculled from the stern by some twenty men. In the middle there was a little raised cabin in which his Excellency and his attendants sat on mats round their tobacco-boxes and smoked their pipes; and in the prow there were official spears of various forms, with small flags and banners. Six other boats filled with officers and soldiers came after. Only the under governor, spy governor, and three or four other high officers, accompanied his Excellency into our cabin. After the commodore had shown him various European articles which he thought would interest, and which were looked upon with that grave and attentive reserve which marks a high-born Japanese, we all sat down to breakfast. The interpreter stood by the side of the governor, and interpreted with the most profound respect, his eyes cast down on the ground. Various dishes suited to the Japanese taste had been prepared, and sweet wines and liqueurs were served round. The governor and his lieutenant ate and drank sparingly; not so, however, the others: they took all we gave them, ate what they could, packed the rest up in paper, and deposited it in the bosom-folds of their capacious robes. One or two of them began to become rather merry after a few glasses of liqueur and Constantia, but on perceiving the eye of their master once or twice fixed on them, they would not touch a drop more. The governor was an old man with a long face, pointed chin, straight nose, eyes very slightly oblique, and a very mild and pleasing expression. He put me much in mind of an old Scotch lady as he sat at table, and the resemblance was made more ludicrous by the extreme politeness of the commodore, who had handed him to his seat, and was now helping him to this and that, and overwhelming him with the most marked attention.

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Victorians in japan The poor old man was kept continually at work bowing his acknowledgments. He wore his official dress, yellow figured satin trousers, a rich blue silk robe over a white one, and over all the black silk jacket-like dress. A pair of magnificent swords completed his costume, but these were delivered over to his sword-bearer. . . . The lieutenant-governor was a young man, of a very fine, sharp, and cunning cast of countenance. The others were very fat, good-natured bon vivants. The interpreter, who spoke English tolerably, was permitted, on the application of the captain, to partake of some refreshment in the presence of his august master. These interpreters are cunning rascals, and need be, to have to explain the most disagreeable truths in such a way as not to offend their superiors. I had reason to know in many instances that they do not half translate what is said; sometimes because they do not quite understand it, in which case they invent, and at other times because they dare not communicate the truth. . . . After breakfast the party adjourned on deck, where the photographic apparatus was set up. The governor wanted his portrait to send to his poor wife in Edo, but as it was beneath his dignity to have it taken so publicly, it was arranged that it should be done at his own house the next day. His subordinates underwent the operation. One, to whom it must have been new, became very red, then very pale, as the focus was fixed on him, which provoked the laughter of all present, especially of the old lady the governor. When the result was shown him, he was delighted, and took it away with him to excite the envy of his own and his wife's friends. Soon after the governor returned on shore, and the corvette gave him a parting salute of five guns. Japan, the Amoor and the Pacific

Ainu bones In the next few years trade and the merchant community grew slowly if at all. Trade was restricted by monopolies and restrictions imposed by the Japanese authorities. There were only seven foreign merchants resident in Hakodate in the year 1865. However there occurred an incident in that year which caused a scandal involving the British Consul, Captain Howard Vyse, formerly Consul in Yokohama. In December 1865 the Governor complained to the Consul that three Englishmen from Hakodate had robbed Ainu graves in villages some way from Hakodate. The three men concerned were Henry Trone, constable at the British Consulate, George Kernish, the consular jailer, and Henry

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 45 Whitely, an English naturalist visiting Hakodate. The Governor demanded that the three men be punished and that the Ainu bones and skulls should be returned. In reporting this incident to Sir Harry Parkes, who was then British Minister to Japan, Vyse played the affair down and suggested that the Governor had only taken the matter up at the instigation of another British resident, called Duas, and the American Vice-Consul. Vyse held a Consular Court to try the accused. He dismissed most of the Japanese evidence as hearsay and decided that the remaining evidence was insufficient to convict the men. However the two British assessors, merchants at Hakodate, dissented and asserted that there should be a more thorough investigation. Instead of pursuing the matter himself, as he should have done, Vyse referred the case to Parkes. The Governor disagreed with Vyse's handling of the case, and a quarrel ensued between him and the Consul, who reported to Parkes that the Governor's conduct had been 'most unseemly and indecorous' and suggested that a complaint be made to the central authorities against the Governor. The acting Vice-Consul, Mr Enslie, now became involved and the Governor claimed that the Ainu skulls were hidden in Enslie's house. The three accused then decided to confess! Eventually Vyse reopened the case and found the three accused guilty. Trone and Kernish were sentenced to eighteen months with hard labour and Whitely to twelve months with hard labour. The accused claimed that the skulls had been thrown into the sea because they stank. In fact it appears that they had been sent back to England. Indeed it seems that they were sent to Vyse's brother. Although he pleaded innocent Vyse himself was forced to resign, and Enslie's career suffered. The affair of the Ainu bones was finally settled in May 1867, when three boxes containing 'one body, three heads and trunks' were returned to the Japanese authorities for onward trans-shipment to the Ainu village concerned. The Hakodate Incident of 1868-9 The next British Consul, Mr Eusden, created a better impression. He remained until 1880. He was very short in stature and was nicknamed 'mame-ryoji' [bean consul]. Eusden was in charge during the difficult days of 1868 when the Tokugawa Bakufu was overthrown and the Meiji restoration effected. The transfer of power at Hakodate seemed to go reasonably smoothly. The Governor appointed by the Bakufu slipped away and was replaced by one Shimizu Dani, appointed by the new regime. However, in October 1868 a fleet of ships loyal to the Tokugawa Bakufu sailed northwards from Edo. They were under the command of Captain Enomoto Kamajiro and were supported

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by members of the French military mission in Japan (the French had supported the Bakufu in the run up to the civil war). The leading French officer was a Capitaine Brunet. Among Enomoto's eight ships were the Kaiten, a paddle-steamer built by the British, formerly the Eagle, and the Banyu, formerly the yacht Emperor presented in 1858 to the Tokugawa Shogun by Queen Victoria. On 2 December 1868 the Consuls were told by the Governor, Shimizu Dani, that Enomoto intended to take Hakodate and make it his headquarters. Shimizu Dani and his officials made good their escape from Hakodate. On 3 December the Consuls met and decided to place a flag of truce on the Goryokaku, the Hakodate fort, which had just been completed. Enomoto's forces entered Hakodate without any fighting and established a new administration-. On 17 December Enomoto met Eusden and told him that the Japanese wanted the island (Hokkaido) handed over to the Tokugawa clan, to be cultivated and governed by themselves, but in subjection to the Mikado's Government. Enomoto's men captured Matsumae and fortified the Goryokaku. The British and French Ministers in Edo, alarmed for the safety of their nationals, and by the absence of any news from Hakodate, sent two men-of-war to Hakodate: HMS Satellite and His Imperial (French) Majesty's Ship Venus. They found Enomoto's ships in the bay and the fort saluted the visiting ships. Adams of the British Legation, who was on board HMS Satellite, noted that the salute was not returned and that Enomoto's fleet was in a sorry condition. HMS Satellite remained for about a month. Enomoto proclaimed a republic on the island of Hokkaido with himself as Governor-General, but according to Eusden's reports, the inhabitants of the island cordially hated the new regime. On 21 April 1869 an imperial fleet set out from Edo to suppress the rebellion. There was a naval skirmish at Miyako but this was indecisive. Eusden learnt on 17 May 1869 that Hakodate would be attacked and foreign residents were .advised to go on board their respective men-of-war. Eusden took refuge on HMS Pearl, a twentyone gun corvette, under the command of Captain Ross, RN. Mrs Cheke's grandfather, de Meric, who was assistant surgeon on the Pearl, recorded that the ship returned to Hakodate on 6 June. They found that a large number of Imperial troops had landed a few miles away from the town and fighting had already begun. He thought that the situation of Hakodate greatly resembled that of Gibraltar, 'the hill on which the fort is built being connected with the mainland by a sandy strip . . . and the bay forming the same semi-circle with cliffs.' He noted that to the west the rebels had thrown up earthworks extending at right angles to the cliff with guns mounted in the embrasures. The Imperial troops began their

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 47 attack and the rebels retired behind the earthworks: After a slight pause, the Imperial troops charged across the open space, in open order, under the most withering fire. We could see the havoc committed in their ranks, men falling on all sides. The charge was not successful at first, as more than once the attacking troops faltered and seemed inclined to retire, but they came on again and, notwithstanding their heavy losses, gradually approached the earthworks. When within about a hundred yards or so, they gave a cheer which was distinctly heard from the ship, and, many of them throwing away their rifles, ckew their formidable two-handed swords (Japanese type) and charged the earthworks. A handto-hand encounter now ensued, the rebels giving way and at last making a bolt from behind the earthworks along the plain beyond them. The Imperialists now turned the guns (fieldpieces) against the fugitives and a large number lost their lives in the retreat. This ended the first fight we witnessed, the Imperialists remaining in possession of the earthworks, and the universal opinion on board was that no European troops could have fought with more gallantry than was shown by both attackers and defenders. On 20 June a further naval and military engagement took place. In the naval engagement one of the ships involved in the fighting received a direct hit in her ammunition store and the ship blew up: Both sides seemed startled by the sudden calamity, and, after the roar of artillery, there was a sudden silence whilst all that could be seen of the ill-fated ship were her masts and funnel and a quantity of wreckage floating about. A black cloud of smoke formed like a gigantic mushroom over the spot where the vessel had sunk. The orders were immediately given, on board our ship, to man a couple of boats and proceed to the rescue. Our boats were away for a short time, and returned to the ship with a large number of wounded men who had been picked up among the wreckage. It fell to de Meric to tend the wounded: After landing, I had the men removed to a house in a small village which had just been captured by the Imperialists, and was just attending to them when heavy firing began again and bullets were flying about very uncomfortably, and the rebels actually attacked and recaptured the village while we were in it and were again repelled by the Imperialist troops. Of course

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Victorians in Japan we were pretty safe as no one entered the house we were in, but, it was a peculiar feeling to be, for a time, between two fires.

They did all they could for the wounded and many more were brought in from the field during their short stay on shore. The naval engagement was a severe blow for the rebels and they did little on the sea thereafter. But as de Meric noted, the shore fighting continued and the fort (the Goryokaku) about a mile and a half inland put up a stubborn resistance. It was constantly shelled from the ships and the shots began to tell: One day, whilst on a riding expedition over the battle fields, in company with several other officers, we were told that this fort had surrendered and immediately we rode for it. We found it surrounded by Imperial troops and no fighting going on, so we thought we would have a look at the interior. No objection was made to our passing through the Imperial lines and we rode across the drawbridge over the moat. When we reached the main gate of the fort, we found that, although the fort had surrendered, the rebels were still in possession and none of the other troops had entered; we were surrounded by very sullen looking faces and thought that it would be more discreet to retire and postpone our visit until another day. After the fall of the fort the town still had to be captured: One dark night, the Imperialists sent a number of transports round to the sea face which were able to land their forces unperceived; the next morning, a combined attack by sea and land, was made on the front of the town, and, whilst the rebels were defending themselves there, the crest of the hill was suddenly covered by troops, and the besieged, finding themselves between two fires, could do nothing but yield. A few troops, however, managed to gain the town fort and, shutting themselves in, kept their assailants at bay. We were now able to land in the town, although there was a certain amount of risk owing to the excited state of both parties. One day, whilst sailing on shore, we passed under the small fort, which was firing occasional desultory shots at the ships, who returned the fire in the same manner, and as our boat passed the fort, a gun was fired immediately over our heads and so close that the concussion took the wind out of our sails and the sound of the shot was painfully distinct; this caused commotion among our native boatmen, who lay down in the boat and could only be got up again with difficulty. After landing and walking about the town to see the result of the bombardment, I walked up

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to a small battery on the side of the hill overlooking the still resisting fort, and, standing in the embrasure of a field-piece, which was mounted there, had a good look at the interior of the fort. I could see no one, but was very soon brought to my senses by the firing of a bullet which struck the earth of the embrasure not very far from my head. I, of course, retired after this very strong caution, and put off my view of the fort. This last stronghold did not long hold out, and in a few days, the war was virtually over, and the Imperialists in possession everywhere. De Meric's services were now in great demand. Very soon he found himself at the head of a large staff of Japanese doctors who had turned the temples into hospitals and were doing their best for the wounded with their limited appliances and knowledge. Besides the temples there was a regular hospital full of wounded belonging to the rebel army, and in charge much the most intelligent and learned of doctors, who had studied in Paris and who was a very good French scholar but unfortunately, then a prisoner, as he was a rebel. I also had a large European house put at my disposal into which I had the most serious cases removed, as much as possible, and where I established my operating-room. Nothing could exceed the courtesy with which I was treated by all Japanese officials or otherwise, during my stay of a month with them. I had, at first, such a large number of wounded that I could not even see them all in one day, but the number gradually reduced and I was enabled to gather all the more serious cases under my own eye in the European hospital which I established. I obtained, as I expected, a great deal of experience in gunshot and sword wounds, performing a pretty good number of both minor and capital operations. Mrs Cheke, The Hakodate Incident of 1869' A naturalist in Hakodate Another Royal Navy Staff-Surgeon to visit Hakodate during the 1860s was Arthur Adams: Suburban villas, with pretty gardens are very numerous. I came across one of these charming retreats where a party of elderly gentlemen were amusing themselves with a bow and arrow. They discharged their arrows in a kneeling posture, and seemed highly delighted when they hit the bull's-eye. They invited me in, and treated me with the utmost politeness. ^1 reposed on handsome mats, and with my entertainers was served by pages who offered us little cups of tea and sake, after which we

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Victorians in japan smoked. As we were ignorant of each other's language, we could only converse very unsatisfactorily by signs. Travels of a Naturalist in Japan

Adams later came across another party 'out taking the air' and 'attended by pages carrying refreshments, mats, and even campstools. They accosted me with great courtesy, examined my sweeping-net and collecting bottle, and pressed me to partake of a pipe, and a tiny measure of pink scented sake.' Adams also visited the theatre in Hakodate which he found to be 'a large, dimly-lighted, and barn-like house, with a roomy elevated stage, but with no scenery or orchestra.' They sat in a row of raised seats at the side of the stage. He noted that the 'body of the house was filled with a motley throng of delighted spectators, sitting on benches arranged as in the pit of our own play-houses.' 'Smoking went on without intermission during the performance, and innumerable little cups of sake were handed round amid great hilarity.' Adams was astonished in one act to 'see the frightful ceremony of the harakiri turned into ridicule'. He noted that the chief actor portrayed 'a well-dressed noble of portly bearing'. 'He prepares for the fearful act; but no sooner does he feel the sharp edge of the sword than he shrinks from the contemplation of the suicidal act, making comic grimaces, to the intense delight of the spectators of both sexes, who scream with merriment, and applaud him most vociferously.' Commercial activity After the civil war was over Hakodate's trade enjoyed a brief spell of prosperity and Pacific Mail steamers called there until 1875. Direct British trade with Hokkaido hardly existed in those days. British imports from Hokkaido, almost entirely through Hakodate, vastly exceeded British exports to the island. Japanese merchants preferred to purchase imported goods in Yokohama and transport them in Japanese ships at high freight charges rather than to buy direct through British merchants in Hakodate.. Although in the early years after the Meiji restoration the foreign community never exceeded fifty, the British were always in a majority. One of the most influential was Thomas Wright Blakiston (1832-91) who arrived in Hakodate in 1861 and stayed until 1884. He established the firm of Blakiston, Marr, to trade with Russia and China, to manufacture ice and to process timber. In 1864 he imported a sawmill. He made plans for harbours in Hokkaido, founded a regular steamship service between Hakodate and Aomori in Northern Honshu, and planned a water system for Hakodate. In 1875 he ran into trouble with the local authorities over his firm's issue of commercial notes (shoken)

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 51 which he intended should be used in the context of a shipping route connecting Hakodate with Yokohama and Shanghai. In 1876 he was forbidden by the British Consul to issue these notes. Blakiston's most important contribution, however, was scientific. He was a zoologist and he had observed the differences between the animal life in Hokkaido and in Northern Honshu. His friend, the British seismologist James Milne, named this boundary the Blakiston Line. Blakiston formed the collection of 1,314 Japanese birds now held by Hokkaido University and also published a catalogue of Japanese birds. Sir Harry Parkes visited Hakodate at least three times. I have taken a short trip to Hakodate, where I have sent my family for three months. But I doubt whether the 8 or 10 degrees of coolness makes amends for the other drawbacks. It is a terribly lifeless place, though there is fine scenery, and fishing hard by. But ladies and children do not care for these enjoyments. It is also a fine station for our fleet to visit in the summer, for purposes of health, and the only point from which we may watch Russian proceedings on the opposite coast. . . . The opening of the Hakodate port saved Ezo [presumably from the Russians]. F. J. Dickens, The Life of Sir Harry Parkes Isabella Bird visited Hakodate in 1878 on her way to see the Ainu: A single look at Hakodate itself makes one feel that it is Japan all over. The streets are very wide and clean, but the houses are mean and low. The city looks as if it had just recovered from a conflagration. The houses are nothing but tinder. The grand tile roofs of some other cities are not to be seen. There is not an element of permanence in the wide and windy streets. It is an increasing and busy place; it lies for two miles along the shore, and has climbed the hill till it can go no higher; but still houses and people look poor. It has a skeleton aspect too, which is partially due to the number of permanent 'clothes-horses' on the roofs. Stones, however, are its prominent feature. Looking down upon it from above you see miles of grey boulders, and realize that every roof in the windy capital is 'hoddon doun' by a weight of paving stones. Nor is this all. Some of the flatter roofs are pebbled all over like a courtyard, and others, such as the roof of this house, for instance, are covered with sod and crops of grass, the two latter arrangements being precautions against risks from sparks during fires. These paving stones are certainly the cheapest possible mode of keeping the roofs on the houses in such a windy region, but they look odd.

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Victorians in Japan None of the streets, except one high up the hill, with a row of fine temples and temple grounds, call for any notice. Nearly every house is a shop; most of the shops supply only the ordinary articles consumed by a large and poor population; either real or imitated foreign goods abound in Main Street, and the only novelties are the furs, skins, and horns, which abound in shops devoted to their sale. I covet the great bear furs and the deep cream-coloured furs of Ainu dogs, which are cheap as well as handsome. There are many second-hand, or, as they are called, 'curio' shops, and the cheap lacquer from Aomori is also tempting to a stranger. Unbeaten Tracks in Japan

Dr John Batchelor, Ainu scholar Another Englishman who used Hakodate as a base for his studies of Ainu language and lore was the Reverend John Batchelor (1854-1944). He had gone out to Hong Kong for the Church Missionary Society in 1875 but the climate did not agree with him and he was sent to Japan. From Tokyo he went on to Hakodate in April 1876 on board a small American schooner, The Ocean Pearl. There were only four members of the crew and Batchelor helped with the sails. They were becalmed for a couple of days and did not reach Hakodate until 1 May 1876. Batchelor had now reached his new home where he was to remain, with brief intervals of leave in England, until 1942 when he was forced to leave for the last time. He started to study Japanese and, having made the acquaintance of some Ainu huntsmen, he took up the study of the Ainu language and culture. In due course he became the outstanding scholar of the Ainu. Indeed his whole life was devoted to learning about them, helping them and teaching them. Until his marriage on 1 January 1884 he went every year to Ainu villages to pursue his studies. In the spring of that year, when in accordance with the terms of the treaties, he applied for the necessary passport to enable him to travel outside the settlement of Hakodate, his application was refused by Mr Woolley, the then British Consul. A lawsuit had been brought against him for infringement of Japanese rules. He was alleged to have built a home in the interior, to have shot outside the treaty limits and to have outstayed the time limits provided in his previous permit. The only substantial charge was the third, but, according to Batchelor, it was based on a linguistic misunderstanding. Batchelor protested against the trial being conducted in Japanese and asked that it should be either in English or Ainu. He was urged not to press this objection. He accepted this, but the case was postponed until an efficient interpreter who understood the Ainu language was found. In the end

The Treaty ports: Hakodate 53 Batchelor's interpretation was proved correct and the charge was dismissed. The Consul asked the Japanese official who had brought the case why he had done so. At first he argued simply that 'if Mr Batchelor had broken the law he should be punished for having done so.' Eventually, however, he admitted that the case had been brought by the Japanese authorities, because 'Mr Batchelor is trying to make the Ainu language live while we desire it to die out.' The official was displeased at losing the case and asserted that this was due to the fact that it had had to be brought under British and not Japanese law. He also asked whether Mrs Batchelor could not be charged with contempt of court as she had gone on with her knitting in court while the case was being heard.

Japanese Imperial Fleet attacking rebels at Hakodate (Illustrated London News, 11 September 1869).

Yokohama The third of the Treaty ports to be opened from 1 July 1859 was Kanagawa, not Yokohama. But Kanagawa was on the Tokaido from Edo to Kyoto, the main artery for traffic under the Tokugawa Shogunate. The route was regularly used by Daimyo and their trains of retainers. The Bakufu rightly foresaw that if the foreign merchants were to reside at Kanagawa there would inevitably be many clashes between the samurai, who had been educated to despise and hate the 'foreign barbarian', and the merchants. The Daimyo, especially the outer (or Tozama) Daimyo, had come to regard the treaties of 1858 as a sign of weakness on the part of them and were only too ready to seek opportunities of embarrassing them. The Bakufu, conscious of the strength of opposition from the Daimyo and remembering that they had managed for two centuries to isolate the Dutch on the island of Deshima in Nagasaki bay, looked for a means of keeping foreign merchants not only out of harm's way but also out of their own way. They recognized that in the small fishing village of Yokohama near Kanagawa it might be possible to confine the tiresome foreigners. The little port could be protected by guards on the creeks and swamps behind the village. There was also a good, perhaps better, harbour there. So in anticipation of the arrival in 1859 of foreign merchants the Bakufu quickly constructed at Yokohama a couple of wharfs, which were to be known in due course as the English and French wharfs [hatoba], together with a customs house and other simple facilities. They had no difficulty in persuading the first foreign merchants to arrive that they should go to Yokohama and that it was more suitable to their needs than Kanagawa. They pretended that to all intents and purposes Kanagawa and Yokohama were identical. Moreover, by placing various obstacles in the way of trade at Kanagawa the Japanese ensured that their wishes would be complied with. The Consuls General of the foreign powers, especially the British Consul General Rutherford Alcock, were indignant at what they regarded as a Japanese deception. The merchants generally liked what they found or recognized that this was the best they could hope for. Protests made by Alcock to the Bakufu were either brushed aside or left unanswered. 54

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Soon after his arrival in Edo and the establishment of his quarters in Tozenji temple in Shinagawa, Rutherford Alcock travelled down the bay in HMS Sampson to visit Kanagawa. He discovered that th Japanese had already built at Yokohama 'a new settlement, consisting of wood huts and streets of shops extending three-quarters of a mile, with a custom house or official timber house of larger dimensions. . . . The approach is marked by two really imposing and beautifully constructed landing-places, with well laid granite steps of great extent.' Alcock was furious. Yokohama was off the main trade route: 'If foreign merchants were compelled to accept this location, I do not think there is hope that trade could be established.' In his despatch of 14 July 1859 Alcock reported: Mr Keswick, a representative of the house of Jardine, Matheson & Co, has seen fit, notwithstanding a notification warning British merchants of the danger of defeating efforts made in their interests for a fitting location and a better understanding with the Authorities of that and other subjects immediately connected with the opening of the port, to take a house in the Japanese settlement. The passengers in the Loch Lomond, which got on-shore in entering the bay, having come up, were in some sense obliged to lodge themselves where they could, and they are put up also in Yokohama. The Japanese authorities meanwhile gave instructions that nothing could be bought or sold at Kanagawa. Alcock was faced with a fait accompli but for many years to come the British Consulate at Yokohama still described itself as the British Consulate, Kanagawa. At the time of the opening of the port, Yokohama was a small fishing village of some hundred Japanese houses. John R. Black, was in Japan from the early days: Yokohama was a collection of huts that it would be almost bombastic to dignify with the name of a fishing village. It was a small strip of hard ground bounded on the north by the sea; on the south by an extensive swamp which lay between it and a fine well-cultivated plain; on the west by a creek, tidal for about a mile, at which distance from its sea mouth it is separated by sluice gates from the fresh-water stream above; and on the east by an estuary into which a river that flows from the hills empties itself. As a boundary for the foreign settlement a canal had been cut through the salt-water swamp in its rear, uniting the creek and the estuary; so that the new settlement was an island from which there were two exits. . . . Each of the bridges . . . was protected by a gate, shut at sunset, and by a guard-house, in

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Victorians in Japan which yakunin [officials] were always on duty to watch who entered or left the settlement, examine the luggage, bundles or parcels, and to see that they conveyed nothing contraband in or out. Young Japan: Yokohama and Yedo

The first settlers were lucky in appropriating land; those that followed were forced to buy at inflated prices from their forerunners. Captain Henry Holmes was one of the first British Merchant Navy captains to visit Yokohama in 1859. On arrival at the entrance of Edo Bay I found no pilot; there were no buoys to mark the proper channels, nor was there any light to direct. I found it a difficult place to navigate for the first time. With care I picked my way and arrived safely off Yokohama and came to anchor. I found no shipping or native craft in the place, nor were we boarded by any officials, as Yokohama had not been reconstructed, and the treaty port was Kanagawa, at which place Colonel [sic] Vyse, the English Consul had just arrived and taken up his quarters in a temple. I reported my arrival to this gentleman, and as being the first English merchant ship to enter the Port on the treaty coming into force. The Japanese . . . wisely built at Yokohama . . . some twenty or more bungalows for the occupation of the foreign merchants, for without this accommodation there was no place to shelter them. The authorities in no way interfered in the allotment of the bungalows, nor did they recognize the merchants, looking upon the captain as the proper representative; so I took possession of one next to the custom-house, and eventually handed it over to Mr Keswick. It has a fine position. No doubt the bungalow has been transformed into a mansion, and the business place of Messrs. Jardine, Matheson. I had the pleasure to meet Mr Keswick, who had just arrived. He informed me that no business was doing, but that people were flocking in from Edo, and thought the prospect good for the future. Yokohama, as I found it on my arrival, was a new place. If there had been a village, it was swept away to make room for a new commercial centre. . . . My Adventures in Japan . . . Edward de Fonblanque noted that enterprise (for the great majority were either English or American) has already worked wonders within the six months

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the port has been opened: the buildings, it is true, were of a very temporary nature, but they sufficed to house the merchant and to store his goods. The harbour, in which so short a time ago no foreign flag had ever been seen, was full of shipping. The wharfs were crowded with goods, and troops of coolies carrying bales and barrels on their bamboo poles, gave the place as businesslike an appearance as you would notice in the old-established marts of Shanghai or Hong Kong. The Japanese have not been backward in supplying the wants of their new customers. The handsome, spacious and solidly built Treasury and Custom House . . . and whole streets and blocks of shops, in which every description of Japanese ware was displayed, testified their readiness to 'reciprocate' with the foreigners. Niphon and Pe-che-li In 1862 when Anna d'A came to Yokohama she noted that a Bund, similar to those in Shanghai and Nagasaki, was being constructed to the left of the pier. She saw 'numbers of houses, now inhabited and others rapidly rising up as far as the creek, beyond which was the Bluff on which the British minister's residence was to be built'. After passing through the custom house she saw the Japanese settlement to the right and noted the gates situated about a quarter of a mile apart. She 'was surprised to find that every European here has wooden palisades round his compound, or grounds attached to the house, which in case of any sudden attack, served as a temporary defence'. During her stay she 'took many walks in different directions, and observed that the country around and beyond is very pretty, being well-wooded and hilly'. In the house in which she was staying she was disturbed by the 'repeated pattering of little feet'. The disturbance was caused by rats which were hunted by weasels. She noted that the houses were made of 'a large bamboo framework, covered with thick mud' with tile roofs, 'often arranged in alternate strips of brown and white, or black and white, the eaves drooping over the house-sides to protect them from sun or rain'. She was surprised by the absence of chimneys and the fact that doors and windows seemed all to go on slides. Ernest Satow wrote of Yokohama on his arrival in Japan in 1862: At first land was given away freely to all applicants, some of whom were employees of the different consulates. These latter afterwards sold their lots to new arrivals bent upon commercial pursuits, and thus pocketed gains to which they had no shadow of a right. When further additions were afterwards made to the 'settlement', precautions were taken which effectually prevented anyone, whether merchant or official, from obtaining

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land without paying an adequate price. Later on, title-deeds were made out, by which the ground was conveyed to the holders, their heirs, administrators, executors and assigns, thus creating a form of property new to English experience, which purported to be at once real and personal. Streets were laid out with but little thought of the general convenience, and slight provision for the future. The day of wheeled carriages had not dawned upon Japan. It was sufficient if space were left for handcarts, and the most important Japanese commercial town of the future was thus, condemned in perpetuity to inconveniences of traffic, the like of which can be best appreciated by those who knew the central parts of business London fifty years ago, or the successive capitals of the Italian kingdom when they were raised to that rank. Architectural ambition at first was contented with simple wooden bungalows, and in the latter part of 1862 there were not more than half a dozen two-storied buildings in the foreign portion of the town. A Diplomat in Japan Tilley had this to say of the new settlement: A large building or comptoir is in front of the landing-place, which is a stone-faced pier with broad steps on either side. One wide and convenient street of shops, with another at the top at right angles, was all that was finished at the time of my visit. The little houses of the foreigners were around the Government building, and near them, in continuation of the main street, was another with gates at each end, enclosing the teahouses. In the spaces behind the principal streets were a few buildings, sake houses, theatres and exhibitions of wrestling, a favourite sport of the Japanese, every great person of whom keeps several wrestlers among his retainers. The houses are all of wood, built in the usual style; and the whole village cost the government one hundred and sixty thousand dollars, as I was informed. Japan, the Amoor and the Pacific Robert Fortune, who came to Yokohama in the early days, declared: Godowns for the storing of merchandise are generally erected near the house of the merchant; and in many instances there is also a fireproof building on the premises, used for the protection of specie and the more valuable portion of the merchant's property. This is of the first importance in a country like Japan, where the buildings are so combustible in their nature, and where fires are almost of daily occurrence in all the large towns.

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The native town is remarkable for one fine wide street which runs down its centre. Here are exposed for sale the various productions of the country in very large quantities. Bronzes, carvings in ivory, lacquer-ware, and porcelain, are all duly represented. Yedo and Peking Merchants George Smith, the Bishop of Victoria, Hongkong, who visited Yokohama in 1861 noted the way in which Yokohama was being fortified as a precaution against possible hostilities with the foreigners. He saw batteries of considerable size on the northern beach. A new island was being gradually raised on a shoal in the harbour. 'A breakwater is already formed and a long causeway connects the island battery with the mainland, planted with young trees and forming a pleasing object from the roadstead.' The Bishop was not impressed by the British community. He noted that a circular issued by the Consul and a despatch of Her Majesty's envoy at Edo, Mr Rutherford Alcock, severely commenting on some recent proceedings of individual members of the local mercantile community, had given to the foreign residents of Yokohama and Kanagawa an unenviable notoriety in the pages of the newspaper press throughout the civilized world, and left a smarting sense of humiliation even among the more respectable portion of their number who were raised above suspicion of complicity in the acts which had called forth that grave and merited public rebuke. The main cause of the rebuke had been the exchange arrangements whereby they were enabled to change Mexican dollars for Japanese silver ichibu and use the ichibu to buy up gold coins which they had then exported at a profit. There was a regulated supply of ichibu which could be issued to each foreigner. Some foreigners had used fictitious names, 'sometimes of a ribald character', to obtain more than their ration. Demands for an almost fabulous amount of silver coins were entered. Some of the claims were expressed in a long line of figures which it would require almost a lifetime to count one by one, and were pressed upon the Japanese in terms bordering at least upon menace and insult. . . . In such a state of matters, it is obvious that good men must suffer in common with the illdisposed; and their only method of exculpation and self-defence

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Victorians in Japan is to rally around the standard of honesty, truth and fair dealing, to diffuse a sound healthy tone of public opinion, and to form a moral phalanx of true-hearted Christian men who shall discountenance such exceptionable acts and give a higher character to the community. Until it shall be proved that such acts as drew forth the British envoy's severe animadversions have been visited by the mercantile community at large with a reprobation of the evil-doer, the society among which such violations of truth and decorum prevail will unfortunately, but not unreasonably, suffer in all its members, and the good and the bad be involved in one common censure and discredit. Ten weeks in Japan

The Bishop was also shocked by the sexual mores of the community (see below, pp 275—6) and he declared 'Kanagawa was represented to me, by persons generally well-informed on local matters, as a deplorable scene of demoralization and profligate life.' Ernest Satow drew a similar picture of merchants in 1862: The foreign community of Yokohama of that day was somewhat extravagantly described by an English diplomat as 'the scum of Europe'. No doubt there was a fair sprinkling of men who, suddenly relieved from the restraints which social opinion places upon their class at home, and exposed to the temptations of Eastern life, did not conduct themselves with the strict propriety of students at a theological college. That they were really worse than their co-equals elsewhere is unlikely. But in a small community, where the actions of everyone are semipublic and concealment is not regarded as an object of first-rate importance, the vices that elsewhere pass unnoticed become prominent to the eyes of those who are not exposed to the same temptations. There were also not a few who came there without much capital to make a livelihood, or, if possible, something more, and hastened to the attainment of their object without being troubled with much scruple. But the Japanese with whom they did business were largely adventurers, destitute of capital and ignorant of commerce. Broken contracts and fraud were by no means uncommon. Foreigners made large advances to men of straw for the purchase of merchandise which was never delivered, or ordered manufactures from home on the account of men who, if the market fell, refused to accept the goods that would now bring them in only a loss. Raw silk was adulterated with sand or

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fastened with heavy paper ties, and every separate skein had to be carefully inspected before payment, while the tea could not be trusted to be as good as the sample. Now and then a Japanese dealer would get paid out in kind, but the balance of wrong-doing was greatly against the native, and the conviction that Japanese was a synonym for dishonest trader became so firmly seated in the minds of foreigners that it was impossible for any friendly feeling to exist. The Custom House officials were in the highest degree corrupt, and demanded ever-increasing bribes from the foreigners who sought to elude the import duties. One of the worst abuses was the importation of large quantities of wines, beer, spirits and stores, for which exemption from the payment of duty was claimed as goods intended for personal use. A Diplomat in Japan Satow's friend Dr Willis, was critical of the arrogance of his fellowcountrymen towards the Japanese: A small foreign official will abuse a Japanese officer of equal rank with our Under-Secretary of State in a manner that, if it were a countryman, he would by the laws of the country either have to kill him, or kill himself. We bully and beat the lower orders, and respect in no way the higher classes. A great deal of this is common to all foreigners, but we especially sow the seeds of discord and dislike. The Japanese better classes grow quite alarmed at our customs, they fear they will lose all hold on their poorer countrymen, and though some Japanese may like you individually they hate your country. To the proud Japanese it must be painful to see the air of superiority the commonest foreigner assumes in his presence, and I have great doubt whether Brown, James or Robertson would not go full gallop through a procession with the Tycoon at one end and the Mikado at the other if sad experience had not proved the danger of such an experiment. We may disguise it as we like, we are a set of tyrants from the moment we set foot on Eastern soil and we cannot help it, it is I fear inherent in the nature of things, the less civilized man must suffer in the ratio of his ignorance by intercourse with his more intelligent brothers. Dr Willis in Japan In view of these attitudes it is hardly surprising that relations between the merchants and British officials at this period were distinctly sour. Satow commented:

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Victorians in Japan So strong was the hostility excited in the breasts of the EnglishScotch-Irish portion of the community by the unlucky phrase, 'scum of Europe', that no member of either legation or consulate of their country was allowed admittance into the Yokohama Club, composed chiefly of British merchants; and this feeling lasted until the year 1865 brought about a permanent change in the representation of Great Britain. The excuse for such relations between the British residents and one who ought to have been the leader of the small society, is to be found in the comparative youthfulness and ignorance of the world which characterized the former. The experience of men and manners which saves the dwellers in little Peddlington from believing that others are deliberately plotting to inflict insults on them is seldom attained before middle life, especially, when Little Peddlington happens to be located in an Eastern land where the mind's growth comes to a standstill, and a man's age is virtually to be reckoned by the years actually spent in the mother country. For all purposes of mental and moral development the time passed on the opposite side of the world must be left out of the calculation. A Diplomat in Japan

As Tilley noted, the merchants faced many difficulties: Every difficulty was thrown in the way, directly or indirectly, by the Government officials. First, no business could be transacted at all without their interference; secondly, no coin could be obtained from the government to pay with, except a limited quantity every day, and the merchant was forbidden to receive foreign coin. Every project that could be adopted to disgust the stranger was tried, and that so indirectly that it was vain to complain to the consular authorities. Conclusive reason could always be produced why this or that transaction could not take place. One merchant I knew had bought a large quantity of produce from a sample, and was to have paid for it and taken it away on the morrow. He thought his bargain complete, but he could not obtain the coin, and when at last he received it, at the comptoir, he was informed with many regrets that the goods had been sold by mistake and taken away. Complaints being made to the authorities, the answer was, they could not compel the merchants to sell their produce, and that the man in question had not been aware that the goods were already sold, when he made his bargain. And all the while the produce was in the warehouse of the merchant. Such was one of the thousand difficulties that were daily thrown in the way of trade by the Government officials of the place. Japan, the Amoor and the Pacific

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J. R. Black recorded one incident showing that merchants sometimes got the better of the Japanese authorities: Amongst the 'imports' [in 1861] are mentioned 'two tigers'. In the Straits they may have been worth, Sir Alcock Rutherford surmises, $100, but they sold here to Japanese for purposes of exhibition for $3,000 or $4,000. And in this, as in other things, the appetite appeared to grow by indulgence; for the tigers led to an order for a brace of elephants. But even here, as in all other novelties, there was an impediment in the first instance to be got over on the part of the Japanese authorities, and the following story was in circulation. Whether they objected because tigers were not in the tariff or on some other equally valid ground, certain it is, they did object; and as the importer was a Dutch subject it became a matter of discussion with the Dutch Consul, who solved the difficulty with great readiness. When the Japanese Custom-House and the Consul seemed to have come to a deadlock, the question arose what was to be done with the article? The Custom-House wouldn't pass it, the ship could not take it back. What was to be done with the beautiful beast? 'Oh, very well,' said the Consul seeing it was time to make a last stroke for his countryman's merchandise, 'since you say it is impossible to allow it to be entered and sold, there is nothing left but for the merchant to lose his money, and let the beast out.' 'Let it loose?' exclaimed the officials, in various tones of horror and dismay, 'why, it will eat us up!' 'Really, I don't know - perhaps he is not very hungry, but in any case, I cannot compel the merchant to keep it.' It is superfluous to add that all further interdict was quickly removed, and instead of making a meal of the Japanese, he was sold and publicly exhibited. Eventually the foreign community sent this letter to the Consuls: Yokohama, 21st August 1863 GENTLEMEN, We the undersigned, members of the Foreign Community of Yokohama, considering the present an opportune moment for again bringing before your notice grievances that have been repeatedly and in vain urged upon the notice of the Japanese Authorities, beg to recall your attention to the following points in which we consider that we have a right to look for improvement. One of the principal causes of complaint, which has been prominently brought forward on several occasions, is the gen-

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Victorians in Japan eral insufficiency of the Custom-House system, especially as regards cargo-boats and coolies, which are a Government monopoly, and the mal-administration of which is a constant and unnecessary impediment to trade. The cargo-boats are inadequate in number, and defective in construction and capacity, for the requirements of the increasing trade of Yokohama. They are open and slightly built, and altogether their construction is such that goods cannot be entrusted to them with safety except in fair weather only. This grievance has lately become so pressing, and an improvement is now so absolutely necessary, that it is seriously contemplated by the community to form among themselves a cargo-boat Company, under foreign superintendence, that, selfsupporting, shall carry out the necessary objects, which under the present system cannot be obtained. The community would therefore be glad to know if such a scheme would meet with your cordial cooperation and assistance, or if you would impress upon the Japanese Government the absolute necessity of changing the present system and of introducing one similar to that in contemplation by the community. If the Japanese Government is willing to undertake the proper management of a cargo-boat system, the community will lay before you the plans and estimates they have already provided themselves with for that purpose. Another serious cause of complaint and by no means inferior to the foregoing, is the fact that the community cannot employ coolies, except from, or with the permission of, the coolie-masters who form part of the Custom-House establishment. It has frequently happened that coolies have been applied for and not obtained, and this at a time when there were large numbers of coolies who would have been glad to have obtained employment if they had dared to do so without being told off for such a duty by the Custom House. As an instance of this monopoly of coolies, the community would beg to bring to your notice, that on the moment of the payment of the indemnity to the English Government, a double rate of hire was demanded and obtained by the coolie masters, without the participation by the coolies themselves in such an increased rate. The increased rate continues to the present moment, notwithstanding the promise made by the Governor of Kanagawa, to the Consuls, that this abuse should be discontinued. The community would also beg to call your attention to the non-compliance on the part of the Japanese, of their obligations with respect to land-renters, accepted by the native authorities at the time of the signature of the title-deeds. One of the strong reasons urged for fixing so exorbitant a

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ground-rent, was that the Japanese Government had pledged itself to keep the streets and drains in thorough repair, and to form a bund in front of the Settlement. The latter, after the expiration of a long period, has been completed; but now that it is completed they have commenced to build outside it; a precedent that if not protested against might be carried out to any extent all along the Bund. It is stated that the projected buildings on the Bund are intended for bonded warehouses. If such is the case their position is ill-suited and their size is far too small for the purpose intended. But we would strongly urge upon you the fact, that the system of bonded warehouses would not meet the requirements of a commercial community in the same way as a system of drawbacks, similar to that organised, and for so long a time in successful operation, in China. With regard to the promise of keeping the streets and drains in thorough repair, it is notorious to every one that up to the present moment there has been no system of drainage whatsoever. Within the last few days, some open gutters, probably intended to supply the place of drains, have been commenced: but as these are in no way adapted for carrying away the refuse of the settlement, the community would respectfully suggest that their construction should be discontinued until a competent engineer could be obtained from China for the purpose of carrying out a proper system. The expenses of providing such an engineer would be willingly undertaken by the community. Before concluding we would beg to call your attention to a most glaring instance of obstruction to trade. A restriction has been placed on the free introduction of Silk to Yokohama. Not more than fifty piculs [some 50 kgms] per diem are allowed to be brought in to this market. This has already begun to tell upon the small native merchants, who are loud in their complaints, and who declare that it will ere long be the cause of their ruin. We would strongly urge upon you the necessity of sifting this matter to the bottom, and of supplying an immediate remedy, if possible; especially as we are assured by the Japanese merchants themselves, that any protest on the part of the Consuls would be followed by immediate reparation. We have the honor to be, Gentlemen, Your most obedient humble Servants, [Signed by the greater part of the Foreign Community.] [Addressed to all the Consuls.] Young Japan

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Shopping in the 1860s Shopping in Yokohama was the subject of much comment. Alcock recorded that one street, nearly half a mile long, consisted entirely of shops, all timber-built, and all filled 'with the goods entirely selected to suit a foreigner's wants and tastes': lacquer, basket-work, porcelain and bronze, fancy silks and embroideries, spread out in every tempting form, the very shopkeepers having learnt enough English to tell you 'all vely cheap', 'vely good' (for the V is seldom heard from a Japanese tongue), and if you ask he will tell you the prices also tolerably intelligibly, and then judge how few button up their pockets, and walk away, like wise people. The Capital of the Tycoon Alcock wanted to buy for a friend a pair of well-bred dogs, 'with eyes like saucers, no nose, the tongue hanging out at the side, too large for the mouth, and white and tan if possible, and two years old'. So he visited the poultry street where there were some twenty establishments with the most extraordinary and the most rare and beautiful collection of birds and beasts 'that can well be seen out of a zoological garden'. He noted a long-bearded goat, a grizzly black bear, a red fallow deer, a stork and various kinds of web-footed birds. He saw in one shop 'the dried body of a mermaid most ingeniously put together, as natural and lifelike as any dried mummy!' Most visitors were interested in curios. Jephson and Elmhirst described the interest of members of the British garrison: One of the first things the new arrival at Yokohama does is to visit 'Curio Street', which, as its name almost implies, is a street composed entirely of shops for the sale of Japanese curiosities. It is nearly half a mile long, and very broad. On either side, ranged temptingly in the shops, which are quite open to the street, with small verandahs in front, is every description of lacquer, bronze, porcelain, and ivory work. Here is to be seen and admired everything, from a little camphor-wood box or fishing-rod for two tempos [about two pence] each, up to a gold lacquer cabinet or antique bronze for two or three thousand ichibus [an ichibu was worth about eighteen pence]. As the would-be purchaser passes along, on the look-out for some article suiting his fancy and his purse, he is hailed on all sides by the inmates to come and inspect their wares; and many a chaffy remark they pass upon him as he proceeds on his way. . . .

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The more you chaff with this class of Japanese, the better you can get on with them. They themselves never think of going beyond a certain point, and know exactly how far a joke ought to be carried - a happy knack never to be too much commended. A stranger may go into one of these shops, and after staying an hour, if he likes, looking at and examining every article, and turning the whole shop almost upside down, may go away not making a single purchase, without any fear of having even a rude or uncivil look cast at him. In return to his 'Good day!' the 'Sayonara!' from the proprietor, and probably all his little family — they always have on hand a good supply of small children — will be as cheery as if he had bought a thousand-ichibu cabinet. They will even probably, after he has expressed his determination not to buy, offer him a cup of tea. . . . One old couple, who kept one of these shops, we were on intimate terms with; that is to say, we seldom passed without a few words to them. One day, seeing the old woman by herself, we asked her where her husband was, and were told that she supposed 'he was after the girls', after which she laughed, as if delighted at the idea of having such a gay old dog for a spouse. . . . The next time we visited the shop, we rallied the old fellow on being such a gay Lothario; but he did not seem as proud of the reputation as his wife was, and indignantly declared the aspersion cast on him to be totally without foundation. We were half inclined to believe him, and even now think that the old woman's statement may have only been a vainglorious boast. Our Life in Japan The more discriminating Edward de Fonblanque commented: The Japanese shops at Yokohama, although making a brilliant display, do not contain articles of such value as those offered for sale in Edo. Occasionally a rare bit of real old lacquer, or an antique vase, or a curious bronze, may be discovered, but as a rule the shops are filled with articles manufactured for the European market; and flimsily-made, gaudily-painted cabinets — none of your stupid knick-knacks, but a thing that will make a show in a room, a regular solid lump of shining furniture - find a ready sale among trading ship-captains et id genus, and not unfrequently reach England before falling to pieces, or casting their lacquer skin. Once you have educated your taste — and to any man of a

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Victorians in Japan cultivated mind this is a natural process — you cannot tolerate the trashy productions foisted upon foreigners as Japan ware. Nippon and Pe-che-li

Security problems From the very beginning, security was a major problem. As early as 27 August 1859 Her Majesty's Acting Consul at Kanagawa reported that some Russian officers had been attacked in the street and one man killed. On 5 November 1859 Captain Vyse, the British Consul, reported that a 'chinaman', a British subject, had been murdered. On 6 November 1859 Captain Vyse in a singular notification to British subjects desired that 'all British subjects will, for the future, go about always armed as much as possible for their own personal safety, as regards a revolver or any other deadly weapon they may be able to obtain; and the undersigned gives free permission to and hopes that all British subjects will give free use to the same, on any reasonable provocation, as regards the Japanese, whether official or non-official'. This notification did not prevent other bloody murders and attempted murders. The most momentous of these was the murder at Namamugi on the Tokaido in September 1861 of Richardson, a British merchant from Shanghai, which led to the retaliatory bombardment of Kagoshima the following year. Among other incidents were the murders of Major Baldwin and Lieutenant Bird of Her Majesty's Garrison while on a sight-seeing trip to Kamakura in 1864. A. B. Mitford, the first Lord Redesdale, who arrived as Second Secretary to the British Legation in 1866, noted that 'for nearly four years I never wrote a note without having a revolver on the table and never went to bed without a Spencer rifle and bayonet at my hand'. Foreigners were not the least loath to use or at least threaten to use these weapons. Dr Willis, doctor to the Legation, who rushed to the scene of the murder of Richardson with some British companions in 1862, met a two-sworded Japanese who 'put his hand to his sword as if about to begin his attack. When Boyle, one of the party, put a revolver close up to his head and gave him to understand he would blow his brains out, he shrank away . . . of course if Boyle had shot him we would have had a general attack and probably all been cut down, though certainly we should have shot some Japanese, as the bridle was in one hand and a full cocked revolver in the other'. Not all the threats of violence came from the Japanese. The sailors were an unruly lot. In March 1866 Black noted that half-a-dozen sailors and marines had been before the consul to answer more-or-less serious charges against them. One of them had amused himself scattering his enemies and

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clearing the street in the Japanese quarters, with a pole 10 feet long. Another had been fighting with his comrades; a third with Japanese. A fourth had been riding furiously through the streets and endangering the lives and limbs of all who passed. In every case they pleaded intoxication as an excuse. One of them said that as he could not get drunk on board, and he must do so somewhere, that being one of the first duties to himself of a British seaman, his only alternative was to avail himself of his leave on shore. One of the main problems was the absence of a unified police force. The police committee of the municipal council had noted that 'the commander of Her Britannic Majesty's troops stationed here, will allow the present constabulary force to be kept up, and a like force will be established at the French consulate. The respective consuls of the nationalities just named, have kindly offered to give their constables instructions to patrol the streets, and to arrest offenders against the ordinances of the council, and generally to preserve order in the settlement.' The confusion resulting from these arrangements can be easily imagined. Insecurity was not the only problem. The climate was uncertain and disease was rife. Smallpox was a frequent visitor; there were epidemics of cholera and dysentery as well as measles. Malaria was commonplace and deaths frequent. Some committed suicide (such as Mr Vidal, of the British Legation, who shot himself in March 1867). One of the most persistent problems was venereal disease. The British garrison One result of the insecurity was the despatch to Yokohama of a British garrison to protect the community. The first guard for the British Legation, known as the 'Military Train', was established in 1860 and was under the command of Lieutenants Applin and Smith. In 1861 a marine guard was provided by HMS Renard. To these was added in 1864 a British garrison consisting of the 20th Regiment which arrived in two parts and for whom barracks were built upon the British consular reserve on the Bluff. The French also had a guard stationed in Yokohama. The Yokohama Volunteer Corps was formed in 1862; in 1864 this became the Yokohama Rifle Association and later the Yokohama Rifle Corps. Major W. H. Poyntz was a member of the garrison: As we were the first body of troops to be stationed in Japan, we may to some extent consider ourselves 'pioneers of civilization'. The landing was witnessed with great curiosity, and as we marched up to our future camp, headed by the drum and fife band, a large crowd of Europeans and Japs, including many dear little musumes [girls], accompanied us, many of them

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Victorians in Japan afterwards to become good friends of the danizans [i.e. danna-san = masters], I shall not forget on reaching the plateau on top of the hill how, at the order 'front form companies', the 'column' sank up to its knees in the soft soil, which had lately been turned up and 'top-dressed' with liquid manure, very obnoxious to the senses, but most prolific for agricultural purposes. However, we were only too pleased to find ourselves disembarked at the end of a long voyage, and on terra firma of any description. The tents were smartly pitched, and all soon settled down to make the best of matters. We had a few large double Indian tents for mess, commanding officer's and hospital use; but all the rest were ordinary bell tents, with eleven men in each. Unfortunately the rainy season commenced soon after our arrival, and as we were situated it was very trying indeed. At early morning a thick and damp miasma rose off the ground, resembling a dense London fog, and sickness began to show itself. It took the shape of smallpox, a disease very prevalent in Japan. Several of the men died, but only one officer was attacked, and he recovered. The situation of the camp was splendid, overlooking the European settlement and the native town and bay of Kanagawa; while farther along the sea coast, about thirty miles off, lay Edo, the capital of Japan, but shut out from view by an intervening promontory. The surrounding country was picturesque, undulating, and fertile; beautiful woods dotted about, interspersed with fields of wheat, millet, rye, and rice. So prolific is the land, owing much to the extensive use of 'night soil', that three crops, I have understood, are usually raised in a season. Our old brother officer, 'Public Spirited Smith', of Chinese fame, was in command of the legation mounted guard, which was composed of a detachment of Royal Marines specially sent out from England some time previously to our arrival to act as escort to Sir Rutherford Alcock, KCB, Her Majesty's Minister in Japan. . . . The camp of the Royal Marine Battalion was on one side of a deep ravine, while on the opposite the 20th Regiment and remainder of the troops were quartered. This space made not only an excellent drill-ground, but race-course, cricket-ground, and place for holding the regimental games, foot and pony races. As would be expected, European articles of every description were very dear. Mutton and cheese about 3s. 6d. a pound; a pair of white kid gloves two dollars, or 9s. 3d. English money.

The Treaty ports: Yokohama 71 Luckily all ranks received good pay, in addition to which there was field and staff allowance, and a certain sum daily 'in lieu of rations'. As Adjutant I got 23s. 6d. a day, and to this amount must be added about one-third more arising out of the ichibu exchange. This arrangement only affected the officers and men of Her Majesty's services, military, naval, and diplomatic, and was not extended to civilians. The Japanese Government were greater gainers than anyone else by the system, as their Treasury melted down the dollars which they got from us in exchange for ichibus, mixing alloy with the silver, and coining double the number of 'adulterated bus' for circulation throughout the country, we on our part receiving a great many more ichibus from them than the dollars were valued at when paid to us. It was very gratifying, and at the same time amusing, to see the respective paymasters wending their way up the steep winding road to the camps on the first of each month attended by orderlies, carrying bags full of exchanged money. Happily this lasted our time; but not long after, some over-conscientious busybodies suddenly woke up to the idea that the system was 'demoralising', 'infra dig', and 'unfair.'. . . The main road to our camp was steep, but another by a zig-zag path led past the pretty little cemetery, full of evergreen shrubs and flowers, where those of the garrison of Yokohama who died or lost their lives rest in peace till the last trumpet shall sound. . . . A very nice club had been established in the settlement by 'Public Spirited Smith'. It was composed of over 300 members, officers and civilians. He managed the cuisine himself, kept the accounts, and with his usual indefatigable spirit, superintended everything. There were reading- and billiard-rooms, with two tables, an American bowling alley, and a fives court. . . . The final embarkation was more like departure from an English port, so far as the crowd of natives, men and women, who assembled on the bund, in addition to the European residents, were concerned. There were some moist eyes amongst the musume as our men took their places in the boats, and the gentle breeze wafted many genuine 'sayonacho' [sayonara = goodbyes] after their departing friends. Several boats continued to sail round the big ship amid kissing of hands and silent expressions of farewell. 'Per Mare, per Terram' Naval diversions The visiting naval ships provided other diversions, as Edward Barrington de Fonblanque noted in 1861:

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About this time, I happened to dine with Captain Vyse and M. de Bellecourt on board the Camilla^ and Captain Colvile fired a salute in honour of the latter gentleman as we left his ship.* The commander of the Russian brig Japonitch, for some reason or other, chose to imagine that these guns were fired in his honour, and immediately replied with a corresponding volley. M. de Bellecourt took the Russian salute as a compliment to himself, and insisted upon going on board to acknowledge it. Captain Schott received us most kindly, produced - as every Russian sailor seems to think himself bound to do — champagne and porter (he drank them alternately), and when at length we succeeded in effecting our escape from his hospitable custody, he fired a salute to each of the Consuls. These unusual sounds had roused all Kanagawa and Yokohama; the Governor, startled from his sleep, ordered out his barge and prepared to seek his post. The Treasury and Custom-House were illuminated; lanterns moved rapidly and in all directions along the shores; yakunin emerged from their dwellings in blank amazement; and Europeans hastily huddled on their clothes, and looked to the caps of their revolvers. The night was calm, and, borne upon a southern breeze, the boom of cannon reached the capital, where panic-stricken functionaries met to lament the bombardment of Kanagawa, and the British Minister and his attaches, in the lightest of clothing, held a shivering consultation, and wondered whether there were any survivors to tell the tale of the European massacre, which it was evident the ships of war were revenging. * No formal salute can, I believe, be fired after sunset from a man-of-war; but, being anxious to do honour to his French guest, Captain Colvile compromised matters by going through the periodical practice of 'beating to quarters', which answered the same purpose as a salute.

Niphon and Pe-che-li

Social life Yokohama society in these early days was at best limited, as Ernest Satow discovered: There were few ladies in the settlement. Japan was a long way from Europe, with no regular steam communication, and the lives of foreigners were supposed to be not very safe at the hands of the arms-bearing classes. The two great China firms of Jardine, Matheson & Co. and Dent & Co. were of course represented. The latter came down with a crash a year or two after my arrival. Fletcher & Co., another important Shanghai

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firm, had a branch, and so had Barnet & Co., both now long forgotten. Most of the remainder were Japan firms, amongst whom Aspinall, Cornes & Co., Macpherson, Marshall & Co., were the foremost English, and Walsh, Hall & Co., the leading American firms. Germans, French and Dutch were considered of 'no account'. Money was abundant, or seemed to be, every one kept a pony or two, and champagne flowed freely at frequent convivial entertainments. Races were held in the spring and autumn, and 'real' horses competed in some of the events. A favourite Sunday's excursion was the ride along the Tokaido to Kawasaki for tiffin, and back again toward evening. Longer outings were to Kanazawa, Kamakura and Enoshima; but anyone who had ventured as far as Hachioji or Hakone, which were beyond the Treaty limits, was regarded as a bold, adventurous spirit. The privilege of travelling beyond a distance of twenty-five miles from Yokohama was reserved to the diplomatic representatives of foreign powers, and Yedo could be visited only in the disguise of a member of one of the legations, with the permission of its head. Such favours were regarded with extreme jealousy by those who were debarred by circumstances from obtaining them, and loud murmurs were heard that it was the Minister's duty to invite his countrymen to the capital, and give them board and lodging, irrespective of the shape which their private relations with him might have assumed. Then, and perhaps even yet, there existed a theory that public servants were practically the servants of the extremely small section of the public that inhabited Yokohama, and when the servants failed to comply with the wishes of their employers they were naturally and rightly abused — behind their backs. A Diplomat in Japan J. P. Mollison, who was in Yokohama during the 1860s and 70s also noted a dearth of feminine influence: . . . the number of ladies in the community being less than could be counted on the fingers of both hands. Men had to depend on each other's society, and the result, speaking for myself, was the formation of close friendships that stood the wear and tear of year after year without so much as the interchange of an angry word, only to be broken at last by the final 'roll-call'. Early in the seventies, however, the ladies began to appear in increasing numbers, and it was then that a few of us inaugurated the Association of Fly by Nights for their amusement. The idea was to give a series of dances during the winter season at the houses

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Victorians in Japan most suitable. Of these there were four. . . . Later on these private houses became too small so the Fly by Night Association moved to the old Masonic Hall opposite the German Club and for years afterwards held their gatherings there. This did not prevent many dances being given at private houses. 'Reminiscences of Yokohama'

A. B. Mitford (later the first Lord Redesdale) who arrived in Yokohama in 1866 described how he settled in: A week had hardly passed away from my first landing in Yokohama when I was installed in what seemed to me the daintiest little cottage in the world. It was built of fair white wood and paper, not much bigger than a doll's house, and quite as flimsy; it had a tiny verandah, decked out with half-a-dozen dwarf trees, looking on to a miniature garden about the size of an Arab's prayer carpet, and was one of a group of three such dwellings, the other two being occupied by Mr Satow and Dr Willis - so we formed a small Legation colony on the outskirts of the native town. It was all on so miniature a scale that it seemed as if one must have shrunken and shrivelled up in order to fit oneself to it. As for Willis who, dear man, was a giant, how he got into his house and how, once in, he ever got out again remained as big a mystery as that of the apple in the dumpling. Of course we had a house-warming — also on a miniature scale — with an officer or two of the 9th Regiment as guests, and three or four winsome geisha to sing and dance for us. So with Wein, Weib und Gesang [Wine, Women and Song], and a supper of rice and mysterious dishes of fish and bean curd, sent in by a Japanese cook-shop, we spent a very merry evening. It was midnight when the little maids, with great reverence and many knockings of their pretty heads upon the mats, took their leave, and my first Japanese party came to an end. The whole cost, including music and dancing, came to a little over a dollar a head. Hugh Cortazzi, ed., Mitford's Japan The organization of the settlement The running of the settlement was a real problem. Should the community leave everything to the Japanese or should they organize it themselves? The Japanese would not or could not manage things the way the foreigners wanted, but nor apparently could the community do it themselves. In March 1862 Captain Vyse, the British Consul, published a scheme for supplying water to the settlement from a reservoir on the Bluff, but nothing came of this. On 10 April 1862 it

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was decided that a municipal committee should be formed. At a meeting of land renters, presided over by the British Consul, subcommittees were formed for the streets, lighting, the Bund and jetties, police, nuisances and cargo boats (to quote Black). In 1863 a sanitary committee was also established and a scavenger corps formed to clear the streets, drains and the Bund of offensive rubbish. A corps of boats was to be organized and one was 'to be at the end of each street leading to the Bund' to remove the rubbish collected. But little progress seems to have been made, since Black noted that at the end of 1864 a preliminary committee was appointed to 'enquire as to the best method of forming a municipal council'! Early in 1865 the Japanese agreed to give 20 per cent of the land rents to the municipality. 'The Japanese ought', Black asserted, 'to have done most of the work that the council was required for . . . but their ideas of road-making, draining and policing, differed widely from those of the foreigners'. At a public meeting on 7 March 1865 it was noted that the property of each nationality consisted of the following number of tsubo (a Japanese measurement equalling 3.754 square yards): English 44,339, American 19,550, French 13,205, Dutch,8,008, Prussian 7,591, Portuguese 3,139 and Swiss 872. Accordingly there were to be 11 English, 5 Americans, 4 French, 2 Dutch, 2 Prussians, 1 Portuguese and 1 Swiss on the council. Despite the problem of legalizing the levying of rates, elections duly took place and the council first met on 9 June 1865 in Her Britannic Majesty's Consular Court. The first ordinance of the council concerned dogs! The son of a Monsieur Jaquemot had been bitten by a rabid dog and suffered from hydrophobia. The second ordinance forbade the slaughtering of animals for food in the foreign settlement. The third forbade the storing of explosive substances. But the initial enthusiasm ran out and the August meeting of the council had to be cancelled in the absence of a quorum. One problem was that the consuls would interfere. They even altered the first ordinance re dogs! The problem with the consuls was eventually settled and in the first year, according to Black, the council 'had done as well as could possibly have been expected'. So elections were held for the second year's council. But in November 1867 the council 'returned the internal government of the settlement into the hands of the Japanese'. According to Black, 'lack of funds, and the means of raising them, was the sole cause'. To solve the pressing problem of drainage - the rainy season brought constant floods — money was needed. The Japanese accepted the task and appointed a foreigner to advise them.

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Amenities Most of the normal requirements of a Western-style household had to be imported. This meant good business for the general store merchants such as Kirby & Co and Baker & Co. The latter was a general store which sold everything from hats, underpants and stationery to flour, pickles and solidified milk! Prices were inevitably high. Many, therefore, including Willis, ordered items from home. Willis in addition to ordering clothing, wines and beers, asked for butter as well. One problem was vegetables. According to Harold Williams, potatoes were imported from America, onions from Bombay and some greens from Shanghai. As much of this came by sailing ship, they were not exactly fresh. W. H. Smith, popularly known as 'Public Spirited Smith' had inaugurated in 1865 the Bluff Gardens where the bands from the British and French forces played every week. In 1866 he followed this up by establishing a vegetable garden on the Bluff. Cattle and sheep were imported from Shanghai. Willis commented more than once in his letters on his longing for a good piece of mutton! It was difficult to preserve meat in those days before refrigerators and the settlement had to wait until 1864 for its first ice-house. A Mr Risley who had brought a circus to Japan that summer found that many of his performing animals died in the heat so he decided to import tons of ice from Tientsin and build an ice house! In 1865 he followed this up by establishing a dairy, having brought some dairy cattle across the Pacific (they nearly died of thirst on the voyage). There was a French bakery operated by a M. Coustancoux. There was also a bathing establishment off the French Hatoba where for twelve dollars for the season the foreigners could refresh themselves in the heat of the summer. Dr Willis and Dr Jenkins, another British doctor, opened the first pharmacy in Yokohama in 1864. They ordered their initial supply of drugs from Hong Kong but later supplies came from London. One problem for them was to find and employ a suitably qualified pharmacist. They first tried a Portuguese who turned out to be 'idle and good-for-nothing'. He was replaced by a Mr Hartley who was 'most wonderously' but sometimes 'pestilently active'. Hartley indeed caused problems. He was so 'energetic that he beat the Japanese servants'. The replacement from Britain eventually quarrelled with Mrs Jenkins and went to work for a storekeeper in Yokohama. All in all, Willis was glad when he was able to give up looking after the pharmacy. However, even if some amenities were lacking, the Yokohama folk seem to have lived it up and enjoyed life. Willis recorded that 'many places use champagne as a daily beverage'. Sir Rutherford

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Alcock, when he returned to Japan after his home leave in early 1864, brought out a French chef who was, Willis said, 'a capital artist'. When the Alcocks gave an 'at home' party for the community 'the guests assembled at nine, took tea, chatted and had different kinds of wine. The ladies of course looked very splendid, jewels and the best Paris fashions'! On the Queen's birthday in 1865 Mr Winchester, the British Charge d'Affaires, gave a ball for one hundred people. The band was provided by the 20th Regiment. The French cook provided a grand supper and iced champagne, claret, etc., were ad lib. At the ball given the following year by Sir Harry Parkes, the Second British Minister, 'the European servants as usual got drunk and this led to terrible confusion'. Willis also dined with a rag merchant called Kemptner but 'there was no taste and a fearfully heavy repast was provided'. Kemptner asked for the regimental band but his request had been turned down! In 1865 the members of the Legation gave a picnic for one hundred and fifty persons some three miles away by boat. The servants on this occasion drank sixteen dozen bottles of beer while the guests survived on quantities of iced champagne and lobster salad! One problem was the shortage of European ladies. Willis commented in August 1862 that at a ball given by the Dutch Consul there were only a dozen ladies present. There was a lot of scandal. Some of the ladies were not exactly refined. Miss Davis, the sister of Mrs Bailey, the parson's wife, got drunk at a ball in 1865 and 'made a fearful exhibition of herself. She was sick and managed to make an awful mess over herself and others'! Before her arrival Mrs Bailey had praised her sister's complexion and her abilities to the skies. The young hopefuls were disappointed! Amateur theatricals were produced on board ship. According to the Illustrated London News of 26 September 1863, HMS Perseus gave a 'grand entertainment, comprising theatricals, music and supper attended by the ladies'. In October 1863 Willis noted that he had seen private theatricals on board a French warship. They were 'capital' and there had been 'a grand supper with champagne in rivers'. Black recorded in 1863 the arrival of four 'musical artists from Australia' including a Signor Robbio, 'a violinist of exceeding merit'. In the same year the first amateur concert to raise funds for the Yokohama hospital was held and was said to have been attended by the whole foreign community of 250 persons. Entertainments were held in a building known as the Amphitheatre which was part of the British camp. The papers advertised 'select nights' from which rowdies were to be excluded!

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Church The settlement was a highly materialistic society but the missionaries who came with the early settlers ensured that religious facilities were available. L'Abbe Girard of the French Legation organized a French Catholic church which was dedicated on 12 January 1862 to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The British, not to be outdone, collected funds for an Anglican church and application was made to the Foreign Office for a Consular chaplain. On 18 October 1863, the Episcopal Church (Christ Church, Yokohama) 'was opened for divine service'. (Services had previously taken place in the British Consul's residence.) The church was supposed to seat three-hundred to threehundred-and-fifty people and cost £700 to build. The Revd Buckworth Bailey who had arrived in August 1862 took charge. Bailey seems to have been a difficult and unpleasant fellow. His wife had a child every year (with less then twelve months between them). Bailey whipped his servants and on one occasion put them in sacks to prevent them running away. But the community seems to have put up with him perhaps out of pity for his wife and children. He later produced a newspaper in Japanese entitled The Bankokushimbunshi (News of the World). The Great Fire of 1866 Yokohama was from the beginning plagued by fires. Willis recorded in December 1863 that there had been a succession of fires including one in Colonel Neale's bedroom. In 1864 the United Services Club burnt down. A fire at Messrs. Kniffler &c Co. was more important as it led to the formation of a fire brigade and members of the volunteer corps which had been established to help guard the settlement joined the brigade while a Mr Hegt placed at the brigade's disposal a fire engine which he had imported. Fire insurance was not at first available but agents for the Imperial Fire Insurance Co. were appointed in January 1861 and within a few years there were over fifteen companies transacting insurance business. Premiums were high - as much as 5 per cent in some cases. So some people did not always bother to insure. Even so the insurance companies lost a great deal of money, over 2.8 million Mexican dollars, as a result of the great fire of 26 November 1866. A. B. Mitford has left a graphic account of what proved to be a major catastrophe. While Mitford was shaving, his Chinese servant came to tell him that there was a fire two-thirds of a mile away. Mitford said 'All right, when I am dressed I will go and see it.' But by the time he had finished shaving he barely had time to 'huddle on a pair of trousers and a pea-jacket'. The fire seemed all around him. He rushed from the house followed by his dog who

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however bolted back into the house and was burnt to death. The wind howled and whistled. The flames leapt from roof to roof, the burning wooden shingles driven, as it seemed, for a couple of hundred yards, finding fresh food for their insatiable greed. The flames passed over the houses and simply devoured them like gun-cotton passed through a burning candle — a wonderful and appalling sight. In a few minutes of what had been teeming human homes nothing remained but a heap of ashes and a few red hot tiles.' Even the supposed fire-proof godowns, including that of Jardine, Matheson & Co., were consumed. Satow noted that 'Blue-jackets were landed from the ships and soldiers came down from the camp to work at the fire engines'. But 'there was no discipline among the men and no organization existed for dealing with the disaster.. .. Some of the redcoats behaved disgracefully. They had managed to get hold of liquor and stood by drinking and jeering, while we civilians did the work they had been brought down to perform.' To stop the fire some houses were blown up but the rest of the settlement was only saved by the fact that the wind died down. For the fire equipment had by now become useless and the fire had to be left to burn itself out. Tour days elapsed before the flames entirely died down.' One-hundred-and-seven European and Americans were left homeless and there were many Japanese dead, mainly women from the Gankiro brothel where the fire began. Mitford and many others, including Ernest Satow and Dr Willis, lost most of their possessions. Satow was particularly upset by the loss of many books and irreplaceable notes he had made but he saved at least the manuscript of the English/Japanese dictionary on which he was working. The homeless had to seek the charitable help of their more fortunate compatriots for spare clothes and shelter. Mitford, for instance, was given six shirts by the British admiral, Admiral King. The fire of 1866 destroyed over a quarter of the foreign settlement and one-third of the Japanese town. It meant the end of the old settlement with its clap-board houses and narrow streets. Yokohama was rebuilt with better, wider streets and stronger buildings. Japan was moving towards the revolution of 1868 and the Meiji Restoration. The new town became more prosperous and somewhat more respectable as trade developed. The community in Yokohama survived the civil war relatively unscathed, as Yokohama was never a battleground between the opposing forces. Trade, of course, took a knock and the merchants continued to encounter difficulties under the new regime. In particular, as the firm of Wilkin &c Robinson complained to Mr Russell Robertson, then Her Majesty's Consul in Yokohama, on 11 December 1872, the Japanese officials of the custom-house were masters in the art of obstructionism:

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Some of these are past belief, and from time to time fresh phases are developed in such a way that it may be safely stated that no idea is too ridiculous or startling to be entertained by the officials there. . . . We cannot but think, especially seeing the considerable transactions we have with the Custom-House, paying duties equal to say $20,000 per annum - seeing that the Custom-House have no cause of complaint against us, not to say that in former years we persistently refused their solicitations for bribes; we cannot but think that it is unbecoming in the highest degree that they should expose us to treatment of this kind; and intolerable that we should be at the will of men destitute alike of truth and good faith, subject to such vexations obstructions and exactions. And this leads us to another point, namely: The practical impossibility of our attending at the Custom-House when any difficulty arises, with a view of bringing it to a solution. The insolent superciliousness of the under officials is such that it is impossible, consistently with one's self-respect, to attempt to meet them. This is not our individual complaint, we hear it echoed on every side. The result is that we are compelled to send our Chinese servants to the Hatoba to transact our CustomHouse business. F. O. Records Russell Robertson replied judiciously. He did not think that all the complaints were justified but 'it was a matter of notoriety that the Yokohama Custom-House was probably the most lax in the world, and if a sudden sense of responsibility has dawned upon its employees, the change from a lax to a rigid administration must be borne with for a time.' F. O. Adams, then British Charge d'Affaires at the Legation, commented in his despatch to Lord Granville, then the British Foreign Secretary: It is a matter of regret that the letter of Messrs Wilkin & Robinson is couched, as it appears to me, in somewhat intemperate language. There is no doubt that the abuses at the Yokohama Custom-House have been enormous; that a system of bribery has flourished, in which not only Chinese, but, I am sorry to say, some foreign merchants have been implicated with the Japanese officials, and if an attempt is being now made, under a new regime, to sweep away some of this corruption, we must not be astonished if the Articles and Regulations sanctioned by Treaty are rigidly enforced. Such a line taken by the officials will doubtless be distasteful to the mercantile community, and the honest merchant will often feel himself

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aggrieved at the strict interpretation of clauses which were formerly a dead letter, or at the publication of Notifications, which he looks upon as vexatious, and which, in some instance, have been arbitrary and uncalled for. But his consul is at hand, and at all times ready, to take up an equitable cause on behalf of his countrymen, and if, instead of resisting what, after all, the officials may have in strict right to demand, he would at once lay his case before the Consul, much irritation on both sides would be spared. The Mikado visits Yokohama In the year 1872 the community had three opportunities of seeing the Mikado, as foreigners still called the Emperor. On 15 August 1872 His Majesty made an official visit to Yokohama: The first boat which pulled up to the steps was a white gig, containing three officers - evidently of high rank, if one might judge from profusion of lace upon their uniforms and cocked hats. These landed, and took up their positions on the steps waiting the Mikado's landing. The royal barge, pulled by ten oars, next came forward, having been till then partially concealed by the red water-lighter of the P. M. S. S. Co., and the spectators pressed closer to the front and craned their necks to the utmost extent to catch a view of the ruler of the empire, who sat in state in the stern-sheets with his immediate attendants on either hand and two equerries standing behind him. The bench on which he sat ran the whole width of the boat, and had a high back, over which was thrown a large chequered silk coverlet, its large squares being worked in brilliant silks of various colours of various shades, whilst beneath his feet was a splendid crimson and white silk carpet or wrapper. In the bow stood a man with a boat-hook, and a coxswain holding the standard — a small square silk banner bearing a glistening amber Sun on a light copper colour ground. In the stern-sheets with His Majesty were two courtiers in European evening dress, with dress swords and black velvet cocked hat, and three officers in uniform, the chief of whom was Kawamura-shoyu Lord High Admiral of Japan. Some little delay occurred as the barge pulled up to the landing sampan, and the gig moved out of her way, during which the Mikado looked up at the crowd of faces staring down upon him, with a somewhat indolent, and yet not uninterested gaze. . . . His Majesty was richly, and not untastefully attired; carrying himself - save a slight stiffness in his gait, as if unused to boots well in his European habiliments, which consisted of a black full-

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dress coat, lined with purple silk, of diplomatic cut, buttoned to the throat, embroidered in gold from waist to throat with fancy designs — as also was the Prussian collar, which was continued in a semicircle to between the shoulder blades, like a gorgeous tippet or Victorine - the cuffs and pocket-flaps being similarly adorned and a broad gold stripe running down the trousers. A dress-sword with gold-mounted scabbard and hilt, and a cocked hat, of English naval shape, with gold binding, and a gold cockade on either side, something like a flying bird of the kind represented upon the paper money, completed the Mikado's costume. As he rose from his seat in the barge and stepped upon the gang-plank, the Europeans present uncovered, and the Japanese fell on their knees, the Standard being taken from the sailor who had held it in the boat, by one of the officers in uniform, who then followed the Tenno who passed slowly through the CustomHouse. No one except the Governor appeared to be there to receive him, and the Emperor walked on towards the Saibansho [Court-house], closely followed by the seven courtiers who had landed with him, and with the small silk flag held immediately behind him. As this neared them, the groups of Japanese who had gathered on the street pavements, made obeisance, the police officers sometimes also kneeling, but more frequently standing uncovered at 'Attention'. The only object - and it is one in the depreciatory sense of the word — that the Mikado appeared to notice was the British Consulate; but on this he only bestowed a passing glance, and walked quietly on to the entrance of the Saibansho opposite Benten Dori, where he was lost to the continually increasing concourse. The Far East, August 1872 The railway between Yokohama and Tokyo had not yet been formally opened but trains were running between Yokohama and Shinagawa in preparation for the formal opening to Shimbashi station in the autumn of 1872. The Emperor decided that he would like to try the train: At the Saibansho [court house], His Majesty's arrival had discomposed the wonted serenity of the officials, and the reporters, who promptly sent in their cards, and held themselves in readiness to be presented, could learn nothing as to what was to be done - for the simple reason that nothing was known except that it was His Majesty's pleasure to return to Edo by train instead of on shipboard; and that meantime — a public-spirited offer by Mr Smith to prepare tiffin at the Club having been declined - a hasty collation

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was being prepared by M. Poitevin, whose ices and confections made their appearance at the Imperial table for the third time. The Tenno [the Emperor] was announced to leave for the capital at one o'clock; and the reporters immediately went to the station noticing in passing that the minor officers in uniform had quickly mounted their purple epaulettes, and that the authorities had placed a military guard of honour at the Saibansho gateway. At the station, they were informed by the traffic manager that no one except the officials would be allowed within gates on the Mikado's arrival; argument as to the absurdity of such a perfectly needless regulation was in vain, but they remained there past two o'clock, and patiently expected His Majesty's arrival, wondering the reason of their threatened exclusion, and watching the grotesque assortments of clothing, seemingly inevitable with Japanese, and the humility with which the station master delivered to some dozen or so gold-laced naval dignitaries in the waiting- room their second-class tickets to Tokyo, and liquored them up' with sups of tepid water from a superannuated brandy bottle. They desired to telegraph to Edo for their active correspondents to record His Majesty's reception there; but found the words 'Telegraph Office' were a mockery, delusion, and snare, the office not being for the public convenience. When at last they gave up waiting and returned to the Saibansho, they found that His Majesty had deferred his departure till six o'clock that evening, at which time Messrs. Cobb & Co. furnished carriages for the conveyance of the Tenno and Suite to the terminus. The Far East 16 August 18 72 The Emperor's next visit to Yokohama took place on 14 October 1872 when he came for the formal opening of the railway (see below, pp 319— 23). His third visit took place on 25 November when he made a state visit to the Russian squadron then in Yokohama. It was a fine winter day. The ships were dressed for the occasion. The Grand Duke with the Russian squadron went to Yokohama station in a carriage placed at his disposal by the Emperor, 'preceded by runners in blue and white livery'. From the station to the jetty the carriages were escorted by a guard of honour of lancers. 'A company of infantry were supposed, with the assistance of a numerous body of native police, to keep the ground - which, it is needless to say, they did not in any way make an effort to do.' The Mikado arrived at the jetty shortly before nine o'clock to board the royal barge. He was on this occasion dressed in a white silk robe with scarlet skirt, and wore the peculiar head-dress and nodding feather now familiar to foreigners, 'certainly appearing to far greater advantage than in European costume'.

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Once outside the breakwater the procession of boats from the jetty formed three lines. It had been 'somewhat disarranged' as it left the jetty 'by some foreigners, whose common sense ought to have hindered them from committing such breach of good manners, sailing the Torment right across the bows of the Mikado's barge.' The procession passed both British and American naval vessels who saluted His Majesty 'with cheers and waving of hats and handkerchiefs'. At the Russian flag-ship Svetlana accommodation for the Mikado was provided on the bridge, and after a brief inspection of the ship, His Majesty took his place in a crimson-covered chair on the port side of the bridge, having immediately behind him two Japanese nobles. . . . The drum then beat to quarters and fire drill was gone through; gun drill followed, after which the other ships of the Russian squadron were exercised by signal in manoeuvres usually displayed on such occasions, followed by a couple of races between the boats of a squadron vigorously contested, the Prince's barge coming in a bad fifth. During much of this time the band played selections of lively airs, and at the conclusion of the racing a number of the sailors sang one of the quaint capstan songs common to every nation, one man improvising a line of complimentary verse and the others taking up a chorus to the rattle of a tambourine. This appeared to excite the Mikado's curiosity. He rose, and came to the starboard side of the gangway, and there sat, with a Miya [prince] sitting on either hand, watching the singers, with more apparent interest than he had hitherto shown, and after a polka had been performed, was amused with another song. Then came the most interesting portion of the day's proceedings - the passing in review of the Japanese fleet, the flagship leading. As she steamed by the Svetlana the men on each ship swarmed into the rigging, cheers were exchanged, and the bands on each ship played the national air. The leading vessel came up in fine style, passing close under the stern of the Svetlana: but the second — a corvette — instead of following the Admiral's lead went round another ship. The third ship, a gunboat, followed the route of the first: two other gun-boats and a frigate completed the squadron, in response to the salutations from each of which the Tenno bent slightly. The position was a novel one for his Majesty, and was certainly a curiosity in historical spectacle. A sovereign of despotic power sitting as guest on a ship of war belonging to his most antagonistic neighbour - to an adversary already in pos-

The Treaty ports: Yokohama 85 session of a portion of his territory, and seeing for himself the feeble strength of his national fleet, and manifestly learning the humiliating lesson of its powerlessness and inability to cope even with the squadron to which he was then on a visit. The Japanese squadron having passed, the Royal party descended to the cabin to partake of refreshments, after which, returning on deck, the Mikado witnessed the spectacle of his fleet engaged in suppositious bombardment of hostile forts, the vessels sailing in a circle during the operation in the mode adopted at the destruction of Odessa. After about half an hour of this exercise, the forts being presumably reduced to silence, the fleet again passing the Svetlana, returned to its anchorage, and shortly after his Majesty's barge pulled up to the gangway and returned with the Tenno to the shore, the other boats following in the same order as when he left. His carriage awaited him, and, escorted by a guard of lancers, conveyed his Majesty to the terminus, at which a special train was in readiness. A Ball in honour of the Russian Grand Duke Prince Alexis was held at the German Club: We will attempt no description of the decorations. Suffice it that they were perfect. The concert-room which was used as the ball-room must have stripped everything in the shape of flower or shrub for miles. There appeared to be millions of flowers but whatever their number their arrangement was exquisite. So too in the billiard-room, one end of which was appropriated to refreshment tables. The Committee must have spared no trouble, as certainly the promoters of the Ball spared no expense, to out-strip anything ever before done in Yokohama. The Russian band from the Svetlana was in attendance, and from the moment when people began to arrive until the last guest had departed, the stewards did not flag in their efforts to secure the comfort and pleasure of all. His Imperial Highness arrived about 10 o'clock, and almost immediately the dancing commenced. Mrs De Long, the wife of His Excellency the United States Minister, was honoured by being chosen to lead off the ball with the Prince. In the course of the evening His Highness danced several quadrilles, but no round dances, spending the greater part of the time in conversation and looking on. In the room were several Japanese of rank, generally in the court costume. The guests, in number between 400 and 500, were in the highest state of enjoyment, although in the beginning the crowd in the dancing-room was a little incon-

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Yokohama in the 1870s, 80s and 90s Practically every British visitor to Japan came to Yokohama and those who wrote books about their experiences invariably had something to say about Yokohama. Isabella Bird went there in 1878. She described 'Main Street' as 'a narrow, solid, well-paved street with well-made side walks, kerbstones, and gutters, with lamp-posts, gas lamps, and foreign shops all along its length.' She found Yokohama confusing as there were no names on the streets and where there were numbers 'they have no sequence'. She met no Europeans on foot to help her. She commented: 'Yokohama does not improve on further acquaintance. It has a dead-alive look. It has irregularity without picturesqueness, and the grey sky, grey sea, grey houses, and grey roofs, look harmoniously dull.' She longed to get away into 'the real Japan'. W. Gray Dixon, who came to teach engineering in Tokyo, arrived in Yokohama on a better day at about the same time: The brilliant light of the morning revealed a scene like an English suburb, except that the houses were mostly of wood and plaster and invariably provided with verandahs, and the shrubbery here and there contained such tropical trees as the palm or banana in a semi-developed state. As far as could be seen in the heat-laden atmosphere were low richly wooded hills studded with villas and bungalows. It was Sunday, and from a neighbouring house, the residence of some lady missionaries, could be heard the strains of an American organ discoursing a Christian hymn. . . . The Settlement, or business part of the foreign town, is like a piece of a western American city. The streets are somewhat narrow; out there are numerous handsome shops in which almost any European article can be obtained, and the public

The Treaty ports: Yokohama 87 buildings are of respectable appearance. Among the latter are the Union, Episcopal, and Roman Catholic churches, five banks (four British and one French), the Custom-House, the Japanese Court of Justice and Town Hall, some of the consulates, and the principal hotels. Along the shore there runs a handsome esplanade called the Bund. Off this are the two landing-stages, called respectively the English and the French hatoba [landing-stage], the former much the larger. In the harbour there is usually a goodly fleet of steamers and sailing vessels representative of all the leading nationalities. The foreign population, exclusive of Chinese, is about 1300, of which number probably one-half are British. As in the other open ports of the Far East, the Chinese are both numerous and influential. Alike in the banks and in the mercantile houses, all money passes through the han4s of Chinese 'compradores', whose business it is to fix the rates of exchange. There is hardly a trade to which one or more of the Celestial immigrants have not turned their attention, and in which they have not acquired remarkable skill. The Land of the Morning The St Andrews Society seems to have been one of the earliest British societies. Certainly by 1874 it was flourishing, as J. F. Campbell recorded in My Circular Notes. He attended the annual celebrations of the Society on 30 November 1874 and 'drank deep, sang and danced reels. We began at seven, and finished about four a.m. on 1 December.' His host was a Scotsman, MacVean, who was head of the Japanese survey. Another prominent Scot in Yokohama in those days was Cargill, 'the head of the railways'. Both wore kilts. Campbell was given a sprig of heather from the banks of the Clyde by one of the ladies. He 'sang Gaelic songs' and 'was greatly applauded'. The menu was a traditional one. Daniel Pidgeon visited Japan in the early 1880s: But what pen can describe the appearance of the streets, filled with gay and graceful crowds, or give the reader any real idea of the groups which enliven these half-seen interiors? A thousand sketches have made us all acquainted with the costumes of the Japanese; we know that both men and women wear tunics of silk or cotton, with hanging sleeves, and confined around the waist, in the one case by a girdle of crepe, and in the other by a wide and brilliantly coloured silk sash, with bows behind so big that they cover the greater part of the back, Japanese fans and photographs have made us all acquainted with those smooth bands of ebony black hair,

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which shine with tea-oil, and bristle with handsome hair-pins, over the faces of the charming, though not strictly beautiful Japanese girls. But the best descriptions of shops and costumes are pigments without a painter — fragments from which it is as difficult to construct the coup d'oeil of a Japanese street as to restore the aspect of Pompeii from the frescoes on its walls. The busy crowd, the smiling faces, the courteous greetings, and graceful inclinations of the body; the flying but noiseless jinrikishas, with their bronzed and muscular men-horses; the half-grotesque, half-charming children, with their bright parti-coloured garments, shaven crowns, and quaint tufts of hair; the naked coolies, bearing heavy loads, slung from their shoulders by long bamboos, sweating, and shouting a measured chant; the avenue of open shops, with their heavy roofs and painted paper lanterns, their stores of art and curiosities, and their squatting proprietors, smoking or taking tea - all these combine to form a picture, whose colour and movement, grace and grotesqueness cannot be matched in the world, but which no pen or pencil can bring before eyes that have not looked upon the thing itself. An Engineer's Holiday George Pearson was also there in the 1880s: I hated the dusty streets, watered only by the heavy drops of perspiration wrung from toiling jinrikisha men. I hated the lethargic thoroughfares and torpid shops. I hated the desolation of Main Street and the overpowering sadness of its untenanted stores. I hated the unfrequented Bund with its day-after-day unchanging view of a blue sea sizzling in the sun's fervent rays. I hated the scorching stroll along its stony dreariness. I hated the conventional drive 'round the road', with its sunset solitudes and Cologne-like odours. I hated the Japanese agricultural operations which were carried on under my very nose, to that organ's intense disgust. Most assuredly heaven's breath does not smell wooingly in these verdant plains. I hated the brokers' traps that met me, to my body's peril, at every corner'. I hated the prosperous merchant as he issued forth, arrayed like Solomon in all his glory, for an evening ride or drive. I hated the fiery midday walk up the Camp hill to tiffin; and oh! how I hated the coming down again to office! In the morning I longed for night and all night long I cried, Would that it were morning! I hated the coolies who would stand under my window and hold a parliament, where they discuss all together, and with tongues even as

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trumpets for loudness, the general evil-mindedness of foreigners, as shown in paying them only twice as much as they get from their native constituents. I hated the man who sells native newspapers and gives an unceasing summary of their contents in theatrical monotone. I hated with a deadly hatred - and I find that this is a feeling shared in by many - the persistent Chinese bill collector; I loathed the sight of my own indebtedness as presented to me by my compradore, while the industrious but irrepressible celestial ones who, entering noiselessly, inquire smilingly, 'You wanchee shumaker?' or state blandly, 'My belong calpenter!' approached me at the risk of their lives, and left hurriedly, vanishing with a terrified 'gooby!' Even social observances were hateful to me. I hated the dinners given to welcome newcomers. I hated more the farewell suppers to dear old friends. I hated the old, old songs. 'For he's a jolly good fellow' sounded like a lament for past friendship, and 'Auld lang syne' was the dirge sung at their graves. Flights inside and outside Paradise Major Henry Knollys, at about the same date, declared: Yokohama, therefore, although it contains so large a proportion of Englishmen, is almost a lusus naturae in its tendency to decadence, which to a great extent is due to the 'nagging' propensity of the numerous European representatives to exercise their would-be paternal, but jealous, jurisdiction and to the unwise interference with the course of events which would develop prosperously if left alone. At all events, to use American phraseology, 'it is a place with its bottom fallen out'. Not only is trade there dull and decreasing, and its population becoming smaller, but there is about it a dead-alive, stagnant, care-for-nothing spirit, which is so sure a portent of decay. . . . I must admit that neither my first nor my last impressions of the town were pleasing. True, the storehouses, the business offices, and three or four public buildings were magnificent; the shops, both European and native, were excellent, and contained supplies of a curiously comprehensive nature; the lighting, paving, cleanliness, and good order of the streets were admirable; the civility of the officials, native and foreign, extreme; for through the jealous muddling of the various nationalities, the formation of a European municipality had been postponed, until at last the Japanese Government had refused to assent to its establishment. Yet the place was gloomy, spiritless, and depressing; the streets lacked wayfarers,

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Knollys noted the absence of a permanent British naval squadron and the withdrawal of the garrison which had led to a decline in the society of Yokohama. He found a few old maids and some young men occupying the border-land between clerkdom and tradesmanship, who seek masculine society at the club, at lawn tennis, and at cricket, which here flourishes with great vigour. . . . That bond of association and nucleus of meeting, the Protestant Church, is, so far as the English are concerned, in a lamentable condition of atrophy, which is only one degree better than extinction. Sketches of Life in Japan The Grand Hotel The Grand Hotel on the Bund at Yokohama was the best hotel in the port in the latter decades of the century and attracted a good deal of comment from visitors. At the beginning of the 1880s Christopher Dresser found that he could secure a room there for three and a half dollars or fourteen shillings a day 'including everything save fire and wine'. On his first morning he had a somewhat hurried meal. 'Fish, entrees, and joint were presented in due sequence, as though I were sitting in the Grand Hotel at Paris; while grouped on dishes were tins of Crosse & BlackwelPs potted meat, and Keiller's Dundee marmalade and jam.' To his astonishment the hotel which he had thought of 'as a solid stone edifice' turned out 'to be a mere wooden framework bearing on its surface thin slabs of stone, each of which is drilled partially through and is hung on two common nails'. He noted that the hotel was beautifully situated, 'having its chief face overlooking the sea, from which it is separated by a broad and well-made road. On its right is a canal which here meets the ocean.' Rudyard Kipling, who stayed there in 1889; described the hotel as 'the Semi or Cottage Grand'. They are too fine and large at the Grand, and they don't always live up to their grandeur; unlimited electric bells, but no one in particular to answer 'em; printed menu, but the first comers eat all the nice things, and so forth. None the less there are points about the Grand not to be despised. It is modelled on the American fashion, and is but an open door through which you may catch the first gust from the Pacific slope. From Sea to Sea

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Many visitors were amused to discover that you ordered your dishes by numbers on the menu, not by their names! The Club The Yokohama clubs provided a focus for the foreign residents of Yokohama. Kipling spent some time in the Overseas Club in Yokohama in 1892. [It had] two mails and four sets of paper - English, French, German, and American, as suits the variety of its constitution and the verandah by the sea, where the big telescope stands, is a perpetual feast of the Pentecost. The population of the club changes with each steamer in the harbour, for the sea-captains swing in, are met with 'Hello! where did you come from?' and mix at the bar and billiard-tables for their appointed time and go to sea again. The white-painted warships supply their contingent of members also, and there are wonderful men, mines of most fascinating adventure, who have an interest in sealingbrigs that go to the Kurile Islands, and somehow get into trouble with the Russian authorities. Consuls and judges of the Consular Courts meet men over on leave from the China ports, or it may be Manila, and they all talk tea, silk, banking, and exchange with its fixed residents. Everything is always as bad as it can possibly be, and everybody is on the verge of ruin. That is why, when they have decided that life is no longer worth living, they go down to the skittle-alley - to commit suicide. From the outside, when a cool wind blows among the papers and there is a sound of smashing ice in an inner apartment, and every third man is talking about the approaching races, the life seems to be a desirable one. 'What more could a man need to make him happy?' says the passer-by. A perfect climate, a lovely country, plenty of pleasant society, and the politest people on earth to deal with. The resident smiles and invites the passer-by to stay through July and August. Further, he presses him to do business with the politest people on earth, and to continue so doing for a term of-years. Thus the traveller perceives beyond doubt that the resident is prejudiced by the very fact of his residence, and gives it as his matured opinion that Japan is a faultless land, marred only by the presence of the foreign community. And yet, let us consider. It is the foreign community that has made it possible for the traveller to come and go from hotel to hotel, to get his passport for inland travel, to telegraph his safe arrival to anxious friends, and generally enjoy himself much more than he would have been able to do in his own country. Government

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Street scene in Yokohama (Bonnetain, L'Extreme Orient).

Edo/Tokyo Edo was not opened for trade until 1 January 1869 when following the Meiji restoration the city's name was changed to Tokyo [the eastern capital] to distinguish it from Kyoto [the capital]. However, since ratification of the Treaties in 1859 Edo had been opened for the official representatives of the Western powers. The Elgin Mission, 1858 The first British mission to Edo was led by the Earl of Elgin in 1858. Following the conclusion of the United States Treaty with Japan, Elgin concluded the Anglo-Japanese Treaty which permitted Japanese ports to trade with Britain. Laurence Oliphant, a member of the mission, wrote that Lord Elgin had decided not to stop at Kanagawa but 'to adopt the unprecedented course of sailing straight up to the capital'. Fortunately he had in Captain Sherard Osborn 'a commander upon whose zeal and professional skill he could always place the most perfect reliance'. The water became shallow and 'the channel somewhat intricate'. They were beginning to doubt whether 'the undertaking was possible' when they saw some large squarerigged ships of adequate tonnage. Behind these vessels the island forts and houses of the city of Edo rose into view. 'Gently with two leads going, we crept up to the long-desired haven.' On the following day they ran into three fathoms of water and anchored about a mile and a half from the shore, in the midst of the Japanese fleet which consisted of 'two large square-rigged ships, a pretty little paddle-wheel steamer, which had been purchased from the Dutch Government, and a three-masted schooner'. From their anchorage they had a view of the houses of the city lining the shores of the bay from the suburb of Shinagawa to a long bridge just visible in the extreme distance. This view was 'intercepted' by five island forts. He noted 'low hills prettily wooded, and crowned with temples' behind Shinagawa and saw a 'wooded eminence in the centre, gleaming here and there with a patch of white wall' which marked the residence of the Tycoon (Shogun). Lord Elgin's party of eighteen was accommodated on shore in a Japanese temple provided with European-style furniture and 'three bathing rooms, each containing two large new wooden tubs', one for hot water and one for cold. The large ante-room 93

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adjoining their apartments was filled with Japanese, 'ostensibly to wait upon us, but really to watch and report our hourly proceedings'. They were 'amiable', however, 'and when caught poking their heads above the stairs to watch the process of the Briton going to bed, and ordered by him peremptorily to decamp, they always did so with smiles and bows, only, however, to peep at him again when the first opportunity offered. The excuse which naturally occurs to a Japanese when he visits your apartment is that he has come to clean something.' 'The outer courtyard was a constant scene of bustle and confusion; here were norimono [literally riding things but meaning the Japanese equivalent of the sedan-chair] and horses always in readiness.' Laurence Oliphant had the opportunity to pass through the streets at night. He thought that the effect of their procession was 'very picturesque', in addition to their escort of police they were accompanied by men 'bearing on high huge lanterns attached to poles'. Pretty lamps, painted in bright colours and covered with quaint devices, hung in clusters over the shops, illuminated the bathhouses, flared over street-stalls, or depended from ropes slung across the side-streets. As the crowd seemed even more dense than in the daytime, the brilliant glare lit up their eager, curious faces and half-clad figures and imparted a wild, uncouth aspect to the scene. One day eight or ten members of the mission set out to visit Oji, 'a summer resort' [now an industrial suburb]. For the first four or five miles they rode through the city along the castle moat and through seemingly interminable winding streets. But then they came out into suburban lanes, many of which were lined with peach- and plumtrees. Oliphant declared: 'We were filled with astonishment and delight at the exquisite taste displayed in the gardens and cottages upon the roadside'. No model estate in England can produce 'cottages ornees comparable to those which adorn the suburbs of Edo. . . . Here and there, at the end of a long avenue, we could discern a temple embowered amid trees; and ancient priests, in gauzy and transparent costume, with broad embroidered belts and sashes, and enormous lacquered hats, would hurry to the entrance to watch the strangers pass.' In some of the suburbs they were followed 'by a noisy mob, who pressed upon us, cheering and laughing'. They were accompanied in their ride 'by twenty officials, in a black gauze uniform,' who marched in front of them. As they got farther from the city 'the cottages became more scattered, but the country did not lose its air of civilization'. They stopped to change escorts at a tea-house

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 95 with a garden 'where sparkling water gushed out of mossy grottoes, and quilted mats pressed upon our acceptance unripe pears. Beyond this tea-house we found ourselves fairly in the country: we had exchanged the suburbs of London for the lanes of Devonshire.' Every acre of ground seemed cultivated. At last we suddenly descended into a dell where a charming village lay embosomed in a wood. It consisted of a few cottages, and a tea-house on a grand scale. At the entrance to this establishment we dismounted, much to the edification of the whole population of the village, who assembled to stare and wonder at us. We found the tea-house situated on the edge of a brawling stream, the balconies of the upper rooms overhanging the water. Hanging woods and gardens, tastefully laid out with rock-work, and yew-trees cut into quaint shapes, fringed the bank of the river to the point at which it entered the grounds in a picturesque cascade. Taking possession of a summer-house perched on a projecting point, and which commanded a charming view of the surrounding objects, we signified to a group of young ladies who came to look at us under the pretext of waiting for orders our desire to be furnished with some luncheon. Lord Elgin had brought a yacht as a present to the Shogun from Queen Victoria. When the party got to the yacht they found that the Japanese had arrived first. The Commissioners were 'strutting about the deck of the yacht in all the bravery of their resplendent costumes'; 'the dress [of one Commissioner] was embroidered silk, with crabs in raised silver standing out in high relief. Another of the Commissioners strutted about with a robe ornamented with the cheerful device of a skull. . . . Though somewhat gaudy and fantastic in detail, the general effect was striking and imposing.' Salutes were exchanged and the British fleet got under way. Oliphant commented: A brilliant sunset added its glories to this lively and attractive scene. The shores of the bay were lined with people; in places green wooded banks came down to the water, and the smoke from their guns still rested upon the island forts. Manycoloured flags fluttered in the breeze, hundreds of boats flitted to and fro on the still waters of the bay; while rearing its conical summit far into the blue sky, old Fuji-yama formed a noble background to a picture such as had never before been witnessed in the course of all the many centuries during which this majestic peak has presided over the capital of Dai-Nippon. Narrative of the Earl of Elgin's Mission to China and Japan

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Oliphant's comments on the Japanese were mixed. 'They never lost their temper, despite their haughty pride.' Indeed 'they are notoriously vindictive, superstitious, haughty, exceedingly tenacious of their honour, and often cruel and unsparing in their mode of protecting or revenging it.' The first British Minister The first British resident mission in Edo, led by Rutherford Alcock as Consul General, arrived off Edo on 26 June 1859 aboard HMS Sampson. Although under the Treaty Great Britain was entitled to send a resident diplomatic agent, the Japanese had strongly urged that no resident representative should be appointed until 1863. Nevertheless the Ministers for Foreign Affairs congratulated him on his safe arrival and accommodation was offered. After disembarking the party was taken to the temple of Tozenji in Shinagawa. On turning off the Tokaido, [They] passed through a gate giving entrance to a long avenue of cryptomerias and pines; then through a second more imposing gateway of two stories, across an open square with lotus ponds, and trees on each side, and finally, by an entrance to the right, through another courtyard, and gained a fine suite of apartments looking on to as beautiful a specimen of Japanese garden and grounds as can well be conceived. A lawn was immediately in front, beyond a little lake, across which was a rustic bridge (destined later to play a prominent part in a scene of blood); and beyond this again, palm-trees and azaleas, large bushes trimly cropped into the semblance of round hillocks, while the background was filled up with a noble screen of timber composed of the finest of all Japanese trees, the evergreen oak and the maple. Palms and bamboos were interspersed, and a drooping plum-tree was trained over one end of the rustic bridge giving passage across the lake. To the right, a steep bank shut in the view, covered equally with a great variety of flowering shrubs and the ground bamboo; and crowned with more of the same timber. Through this a path led upwards by a zig-zag flight of steps to a fine avenue of trees, the end of which widened into a platform, whence a wide view of the bay and part of the city below could be obtained, with a perfectly scenic effect. The distant view was set in a framework of foliage, formed by the branches and trunks of pine trees, towering, from fifty to a hundred feet high, into the blue sky above. Tozenji had some drawbacks.

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 97 [It was] in a hollow, surrounded by wood, and open on all sides to attack, effective defence is indeed impossible, and the stealthy approach of the midnight assassin may bring him close to his victim under cover. . . . It left nothing as a place to live in — and the real objection, that it was a very likely place to die in, did not strike the mind - though obviously enough a very bad location in which to defend oneself. From the end of the avenue, through which a mid-day sun could only pour a chequered arabesque of light and shade, the bay stretched far away a thousand feet below, basking in the full glare of sunshine, and making the deep cool shade of the terrace, with its thick screen of green leaves, all the more enjoyable by contrast. Unfortunately it swarmed with mosquitoes! The lay proprietor, the Daimyo of Sendai, was not reputed to be very friendly to the foreigner, and of course the priestly owners saw this intrusion with little satisfaction. The priests were indeed very reluctant to give up the additional space which Alcock required for his 'large establishment of Europeans and their servants, with stables, store-rooms, etc.' At last, 'when well nigh wearied out, enough was at last obtained, foot by foot, to enable me to make arrangements for putting everyone up decently - though by no means luxuriously.' Carpenters were busily engaged dealing with the screens and masons in building kitchens, stables and outhouses. Two hundred cases containing the party's luggage had to be brought in and disposed of, 'the contents of all being wanted at once by half a dozen different proprietors'. Legs of sofas were met in despairing search of their bodies; sideboards on their backs wait prostrate for their supports; beds which could not find their bedsteads; chairs, as I have said, only fit for Chelsea Hospital, and with so many broken legs and damaged arms that future service seemed quite out of the question. Then came the crockery and glass chaos, quite a department of its own - urged into active commotion by the conscious sense, among the living agents, that some twenty people, before dark, would be vicious for want of food and drink, and clamorous for both. To crown our troubles, the whole of the cutlery was missing. Nobody could find the box with the knives and forks! Nor were they discovered for three weeks. Alcock was anxious to get out and about as soon as possible and soon made an excursion to see the city. He followed an 'ill-paved road' by the bay. The view was occasionally obstructed by rows of

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houses, many of which were tea-houses. The streets were thronged with pedestrians and norimono. They met now and then a group of yakunin [officials] on horseback and a Daimyo's 'cortege of mixed horse and foot, with spear and halberd, crest and pennon'. The open-fronted shops looked fascinating. Every hundred steps or more they passed a ward-gate which could be closed at night or if any disturbance should arise. He noted that 'a decrepit municipal guard is kept in a lodge at each, supposed to be responsible for the peace of their wards, and to be ever vigilant! . . . There they are, three in number - two old men and a boy - squatted on their knees, the eldest, half dozing, the other two drawing, by long inhalation, the smoke out of their small copper-headed pipes, dreaming away their existence.' After a mile of the Tokaido they turned off into a side street, narrower and more crowded. Along the greater part of its length lies a Daimyo's residence with an imposing looking gateway in the centre, from which stretches a long line of barred windows. Through these the faces of men, women, and children may be seen, eagerly or idly, as the case may be, looking at the passers-by. A small, narrow, and very muddy moat, little more than a gutter, keeps all intruders from too close prying. But these outbuildings are only the quarters of the numerous retainers attached, as in Europe in former times, to every baron and knight, by a feudal tenure; and constituting at once the chief sources of his expenditure, and the • evidence of his rank or power. In many cases, these extend for a quarter of a mile on each side of the main entrance, and form in effect the best defence for their lord's apartments, which are at the back of the courtyard behind the gates. Alcock's excursion took him to the summit of Atago-yama where he had a commanding view of Edo bay: The hill fronts to the bay, but with a couple of miles of valley intervening, thickly covered by streets and temples. To the left, and in a north-eastern direction, another two miles interval of plain is in like manner filled up with a dense mass of houses, until a range of hills is reached on which the Tycoon's castle stands. The whole enceinte of the official quarter, within a triple line of moats, is there - not only the official residences of his court, but the Yashiki [residences] of the feudatory Daimyo. This range shuts out a still more extensive section of the city, which stretches away into the country on the other side, and may be traced from the point where the spur of the hill ends abruptly towards the bay, winding round the edge of the coast

The Treaty ports: EdolTokyo 99 line, and backwards up the valley, until nearly lost in the distance. Behind, yet another large quarter of the capital is hid from view by a broken series of hills and dales, amidst which only here and there a group of temples can be distinguished; a Daimyo's residence and park, or a few streets straggling irregularly over the crests and down into the broken hollows. Fair to look on is the capital of the Tycoon, even in winter, thus nestled in a broad valley, girdled with green woods and crowned by undulating hills, sloping with a gradual descent to the edge of a bay, into which the Pacific seeks in vain to pour its stormy waters. Nature has barred the entrance, twenty miles below, with a breakwater of volcanic islands and verdant headlands on either side. And, to make it more secure, she has shoaled the whole gulf, so that five miles from the city it is difficult to find anchorage for a vessel drawing twenty feet - the best of all defences against assault from without, whether the elements or a hostile fleet be the enemy. Alcock thought that both country roads and streets in the city of Edo bore advantageous comparison with the best-kept of either in the West. No squalid misery or accumulations of filth encumber the well-cared for streets, if a beggar here and there be excepted. . . . The occasional passage of a train of porters carrying open pails of liquid manure from the town to the fields, or a string of horses laden with the same precious but 'perilous stuff may, indeed, be objected to. B u t . . . to the unsuspecting traveller the turn-out is rather picturesque. . . . Alcock was struck by the number of large gaps in the streets 'where charred timbers and rubbish mark the scene of a recent fire'. He noted the fire-proof godowns which managed to survive the fires. At first all went well for the residents of Tozenji temple. Such total absence, of all external differences, between one day and another, had a constant tendency to blur out distinctions. In the hermit-like seclusion of Tozenji, the same bright sun above our heads from day to day, and a thick screen of wooded hills further shutting out the world beyond - the pagan world in which destiny had flung a little knot of Christians; and with it the world of a kindred creed and race, from which the whole breadth of Asia on the one side, and of the Pacific Ocean on the other, separated us - it was hard to realize any distinction of

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days, weeks, or months! The seasons alone brought their own distinctive marks with them. The Capital of the Tycoon However, life was not easy for the inhabitants of Tozenji. They had no real communication with the Japanese. Alcock could feel the hostility around him and they suffered from the extravagant prices which they were made to pay for supplies. Alcock noted: 'Of the systematic extortion to which we were subjected, indeed, each day brought some new evidence.' In his despatch from Edo to Lord John Russell at the Foreign Office dated 20 September 1859 Alcock put the position in the following terms: 'If we could, as the Japanese do, live on rice and fish, with Japanese cookery, sake, to aid a bad digestion, in houses with a few lacquer trays for furniture, and a dressing gown and girdle for all clothing, live that is, and keep well, with moral physical energies unimpaired to do the country's work, Japan might form a very cheap, if not a lively or pleasant place of residence.' He added: The habits of the country also tell against a Consul who has a certain rank to maintain. . . . The Japanese cannot understand that anyone entitled to retainers and attendants can ever voluntarily dispense with them; and consequently, no respect is shown to anyone divested of such evidences of the right to exact it.' But the cost of living and the difficulty of living in Japan in a European style were minor problems compared with the insecurity of life in Edo at that period and indeed for many years to come. As early as 11 August 1859, Alcock reported to the Earl of Malmesbury, the then Foreign Secretary, on 'the continued outrages offered to the members of both the American and British Missions whenever anyone leaves either of their official residences and passes into the streets. To be hustled and pelted with stones is a daily occurrence; and latterly every form of outrage has been resorted to with perfect impunity.' He noted that Mr Gower and Mr MacDonald of the Legation were 'enjoying the breeze and bright moonlight' one night 'not three hundred yards from this residence when they were hustled in the most offensive manner by an officer, who half drew his sword and menaced them with further violence'. Alcock complained in strong terms to the Japanese Ministers for Foreign Affairs. In his official note of 9 August 1859 he was 'obliged to conclude the inhabitants and officers of Edo differ from the functionaries and populations of every other city in the civilized world.' He feared that this would finally 'render the residence of diplomatic agents either untenable or dangerous to life.' The reply from the Ministers when it came was, to say the least, disingenuous: 'It is to be wondered at that the officers of the different foreign powers should be molested in

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 101 their walks'! The reply added: 'As our nation has not been accustomed to foreigners until lately, they are astonished when they see them, and confusion ensues.' The situation continued to deteriorate. In his despatch to Lord John Russell of 10 November 1859, Alcock wrote that 'the task which devolves upon the Diplomatic Agents at Yedo at the present moment is rather, therefore, to make head against immediate dangers and evils which threaten to make their position in the capital untenable, and all future trade impossible, than to reap the better fruit so sanguinely anticipated by many.'

1860 The position became still more threatening. In his despatch from Edo of 7 January 1860, Alcock reported that 'the commonest sound in Edo is the musket and artillery practice of the soldier.' He also noted that 'sinister rumours of a general massacre of foreigners were circulating.' 'With a perpetual menace of assassination on the one hand, and incendiarism on the other, while earthquakes almost every week shake the houses to their foundations, I cannot say the post of Diplomatic Agent in Edo is to be recommended to nervous people.' The year 1860 had indeed begun badly. The improvised wooden settlement at Yokohama was partly destroyed by fire. (There were to be many more such fires in the next few years.) Hardly had Alcock received this news than he was shaken by a severe earthquake. Reports also began to reach Alcock from Yokohama of a sudden demand among the Japanese for firearms. He feared the worst. On 29 January 1860 his linguist, the Japanese Dankichi, was assassinated. Alcock described what happened in these words: It appeared he had gone down to the gate of the Legation, opening upon a wide space close to the high road, immediately under the flagstaff, and with men, women and children about in broad daylight, when one or two men stole stealthily down the lane behind where he stood, and a short sword was buried to the hilt in his body, transfixing him as he stood. He staggered a few paces towards the porter at the gate, who drew the sword out from his back, and there he fell bathed in his blood. It had indeed been a home thrust. The point had entered at his back, and came out above the right breast; and thus buried in his body the assassin left it, and disappeared as stealthily as he came, without a hand or a voice being raised to stop it. Dankichi's murder was in fact the third to have been committed in public thoroughfares. Alcock noted that no justice had been done, or redress obtained 'in any of the cases'.

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Fire which had consumed the French Legation caused damage at Tozenji in November 1860. Alcock found that his 'servants, with the lack of discretion and prudence usual in Japanese . . . had lit a monstrous fire in the dining-room stove. . . . The rafters had caught fire, and when I got outside, the glower of a smouldering fire began to show by the side of the pipe where it pierced the roof.' The temple bell was rung and it seemed to Alcock that the whole place must be consumed. However, despite the chaos the building was saved by a melee of helpers. The year 1861 began inauspiciously with further alarms of a general massacre. Alcock noted in a despatch to the Foreign Secretary that 'we carry on our relations under a menace which may at any moment be carried into execution'. He doubted if there would be much if any warning and even if they had time to escape there would probably not be a British ship to which they could escape. On 14 January 1861 news reached Alcock of the murder of Heusken, the Dutch interpreter for the American Legation. He had been waylaid on his return from the Prussian Legation by a band of assassins, and mortally wounded. When Heusken was buried four days later, Harris, the American Minister, was warned by the Japanese authorities that if the Diplomatic Corps persisted in their intention of following the body to the grave, they were likely to lose their own lives. Alcock noted: 'No one hesitated' and all attended. The British, French, .Dutch and Prussian Ministers decided to withdraw with their staffs to Yokohama; only Townsend Harris remained with the American Legation in Edo. As the year wore on the security situation seemed to improve and Alcock decided that after a visit he was due to make that summer to Nagasaki the Legation should return to their old quarters in Tozenji at Edo. Alcock reached Edo on 5 July 1861. A comet had been noticed in the sky and the members of the Legation were up late looking at it, while one member with a good voice regaled the others with songs. So it was after midnight when they all got to bed, although Alcock, who was very tired after his journey, was in bed and asleep before eleven o'clock. As it was a hot summer evening, the sliding screens facing the gardens had been left open, except for those on the lower part which were closed to keep out pariah dogs. Although Tozenji was situated in a small valley surrounded by trees, the main entrance from the Tokaido, through a long avenue, was watched by porters at the outer and inner gates which were closed at night. There was also a Japanese guard of one hundred and fifty men. In addition there were two watchmen employed by the Legation 'whose business it was to go the rounds from sunset to sunrise.' All this was reassuring, but 'from the road at the back, any

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 103 number of men might have penetrated through the slight fence at night, without being detected by droning watchmen and patrols who only went round every hour, and not with much certainty.' Alcock added that anyone who knew the place could have got in at twenty different points, beginning with his own apartments. 'Perhaps,' he wrote, 'it will be thought unaccountable imprudence or foolhardiness with such possibility, and the often renewed menace of an onslaught, that greater precautions were not taken, at least so far as to close in this more exposed face of the house.' But it was mid-summer and very hot; the hundred and fifty guards also gave them a false sense of security and they had heard threats so often that they had grown indifferent to them. Alcock at any rate went to sleep that night without a thought of danger. His two cases of revolvers lay unopened on his dressing table. That night the Legation was attacked. Alcock wrote dramatically to Lord John Russell: 'We have escaped a massacre but seemingly by the merest chance.' Alcock 'felt incredulous' when Mr Robertson, one of the assistants, in the Legation, came to tell him that an attack was taking place. 'I had' he wrote, 'barely time to seize my revolver and advance a few steps, when I heard blows and cries, and the report of a pistol in the passage which runs at the end of my own apartments. The next moment both Mr Oliphant and Mr Morrison (HM Consul in Nagasaki who had come up to Edo with Alcock) staggered forward exclaiming that they were wounded: and I saw the blood flowing profusely from the former, whose left arm was disabled.' Three other members of the Legation staff joined them. 'Uncertain how many our assailants were, or from how many quarters the attack might be effected . . . a brief interval of intense anxiety followed, while I stood in momentary expectation of seeing men pour in from the passage in pursuit. After a short lull, some of the band were heard outside the apartment adjoining my bedroom, breaking their way through some glazed doors. Exposed to attack from every side, with no sign of a yakunin [Japanese official] or guard, several minutes were thus passed, two of our number disabled, and the rest of us standing at bay with such arms as had been seized. Our enemies had evidently mistaken their way as the shouts were now coming from further away. To escape from a state of intolerable suspense, I went towards the entrance for a moment. . . and while on my way we thought that they had returned in force, seeing at the further end of a passage a number of armed men advancing who would not answer our challenge. A shot was fired by Mr Lowder and they disappeared. Still the noise of clamour and conflict continued outside.' At last the noise died down and Alcock had a moment's 'respite to turn to Messrs Oliphant and Morrison and dress their wounds.' Oliphant's account of how he was wounded in the attack gives a

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vivid picture of that frightening night. Oliphant's revolver was locked in its case and he could not lay his hands on the key. So he grabbed his hunting crop and stepping past a stray dog who had attached itself to him and who was barking violently at the threshold of his door, exhibiting unmistakable signs of alarm, he proceeded along the passage leading to the front of the house, which was only dimly lit by an oil lamp that was standing in the dining-room. 'I had scarcely taken two steps, when I dimly perceived the advancing figure of a Japanese, with uplifted arms and sword. . . . I remember feeling most unaccountably hampered in my efforts to bring the butt-end of my hunting whip to bear upon him, and to be aware that he was aiming blow after blow at me, and no less unaccountably missing me (his sword kept striking a beam), and feeling ready to cry with vexation at being aware that it was a life and death struggle which could only end one way, when suddenly I was blinded by the flash of a shot, and my left arm, which I was instinctively holding up to shield my head, dropped disabled. I naturally thought I had been shot, but it turned out that this shot saved my life.' Morrison who had been attracted by the sound of Oliphant's struggle, had approached Oliphant from behind and 'placing his revolver over my shoulder, shot my antagonist at the very moment that he had inflicted a severe cut with his long two-handed sword on my left arm, a little above the wrist. A moment after, Morrison received a cut over the forehead and across the eyebrow from another Japanese, at whom he emptied the second barrel of his pistol.' At about 3 a.m. Oliphant, after Alcock had bound up his wounds, determined to struggle back to bed. 'As I tottered round the screen into the dining-room, a * ghastly sight met my gaze. Under the sideboard, completely severed from the body, wras a man's head. The body was lying in the middle of the room.' Oliphant was barefoot and found himself slipping about in blood 'and feeling something like an oyster under my bare foot, I perceived it was a human eye.' Ten of Alcock's guard had been wounded and two killed. Three masterless samurai (ronin) who had attacked the Legation had been slain and one who had been wounded had been taken prisoner. 'The next morning,' Alcock recorded, 'the Legation looked as if it had been sacked after a serious conflict. Screens and mats were all spotted with blood, the former thrown down, broken, and torn; furniture and bedding all hacked, books even cut through by their sabres, and the marks of fury and violence everywhere.' Alcock concluded: 'One thing only is clear to me at the present moment, and that is the impossibility of our relations being maintained on their present footing. This is neither peace nor war; and the position without some fundamental changes is altogther untenable.'

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 105 Alcock exploded when 'after such a night comes a Governor of Foreign Affairs, deputed from the Ministers, gravely to felicitate me on my escape and my return to Yeddo; praying me to accept a basket of ducks and a jar of sugar in token of amity! Your Lordship will, I am sure, not blame me, that I desired the messenger to take his presents back with him, and tell his principal I desired justice and redress, not ducks or sugar, at the hands of his government.' Alcock left Edo for Yokohama on 23 January 1862 to prepare for his departure from Japan on home leave. On his way he passed one of the execution grounds beside the Tokaido: 'As I came up, three gory heads fresh severed from their trunks looked grimly down upon me from their unenviable locations at the top of a pole.' He wondered if these were the heads 'of any of the assassins who penetrated into the Legation on July 5'. He noted that 'the wind blew cold and keen, right down from the snowy peaks of Fuji-yama; and the range of mountains below equally clad with a mantle of white, as we crossed the bleak causeway leading over the salt lagunes by which Yokohama is cut off from the main road.' Alcock went on home leave and in his absence Lt. Col. St John Neale was appointed British Charge d'Affaires. Neale decided to return the Legation once more to Tozenji. The Legation, accompanied by a guard of thirty men from HMS Renard, arrived back in Edo on 12 June 1862. The residence was now guarded by some 535 Japanese guards in detached wooden huts. The grounds were patrolled regularly at night and Neale felt secure. However, on the night of 26 June 1862 (a year to the day, according to the Japanese lunar calendar, after the first attack) a further assault was made on the Legation. Half an hour after midnight that night the British sentry at the door adjoining Neale's bedroom issued a challenge which Neale who was awake heard through the paper panels. Although he received the correct pass-word, the sentry challenged a second time 'in an anxious and eager manner as if some circumstances excited his great suspicion', Neale noted. The sentry, Neale went on, 'then hastily stepped down from the platform on which he stood, and went quickly three or four steps towards the person approaching. This was succeeded by a loud exclamation from the sentry, followed by a rapid succession of blows or cuts, at each one of which the unfortunate man cried out with anguish.' Neale crossed his drawing-room and dining-room to the guard-room where he found the sentry, Private Sweet, on the floor 'dying from the desperate lance and sword cuts he had received'. The whole of the British guard was aroused and assembled with the other members of the Legation in the guardroom. It was then discovered that Corporal Crump was missing. He

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was eventually discovered lying dead at one of the doors adjoining Neale's bedroom. He had received 'sixteen desperate sword and lance wounds'. Before he died Sweet managed to explain that the assassin had approached 'creeping on hands and feet and that the Japanese guard with him had fled the moment he [Sweet] was attacked5. Some twenty minutes after the British party had assembled, Neale recorded that 'detached parties of ten, fifteen or twenty Japanese guards came into the house to offer their assistance. I [Neale] regret to say that some of these men were intoxicated, and one whom I am told is an officer, I caused to be expelled from the room.' The British understandably decided to remain under arms until daylight. Dr Willis gave an even more vivid account: On the night of the 26th of June between half past twelve and one o'clock I was suddenly aroused by strange and alarming noises, cries like those of an infuriated wild animal, the beating of Japanese drums and other evidences of an attack. I had the misfortune to occupy a part of the building somewhat detached. I jumped out of bed, rushed to the door where I met Corporal Crump, now deceased. Corporal Crump descended from the passage leading from my rooms into the interior of the building and about five yards from my door encountered an assassin. A conflict immediately took place. The corporal discharged his revolver and pronounced my name with great distinctiveness. I stood over the ledge of the passage, I confess, expecting every moment to be attacked and cut down. Willis remained there, he thought, for about half a minute 'looking out for any Japanese that might present himself whom I would most certainly have shot as I had my revolver at full cock'. 'It was quite dark out in the little green. I expected every moment to see a host of bloodthirsty men make a rush at me with drawn swords. My position was horrifying in the extreme: a panorama of my existence rose before me with a rapidity truly astounding.' Willis returned to his room and stood in the doorway 'with the slides drawn close up so as merely to give place to my body between them'. After remaining in this position 'for some time' it struck him that the assailants might have gained an entrance and taken the whole Legation by surprise. So he 'ventured out at all hazards to give the alarm to the officers of the marine guard and the mounted escort. This I did', Willis explained, 'after an anxious winding along the dark passages,' during which he bruised his shin and thigh. The note received by Colonel Neale from the Ministers for Foreign Affairs was not, in translation, the kind of document to inspire confidence in the sort of circumstances then prevailing.

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 107 The attack filled not only us with great grief but (sic) His Majesty the Tycoon. We were not a little astonished and pained to learn that two of the guards had met with a sad death. Owing to the disorderly state in which the national feeling at present is in this country, it happened once before that the Envoy was taken by surprise; and moreover, on this occasion, it was brought about by one of the retainers of the Prince to whom the protection of the Legation is entrusted, which is very improper and fills us with shame. The behaviour of the guards fills our hearts with a profound sentiment of disagreeable feelings. Dr Willis in Japan Early British visitors Edward de Fonblanque was one British visitor to Edo in these early days to throw some interesting sidelights on the life of the British diplomats: Shinagawa was filled with houses of entertainment to which the Daimyo's followers resort, and where they pass whole days, or as long as their money will last, in drinking, gambling, and dissipation of all kinds. It would be certain death for an European to enter one of those dens, and even the open streets are unsafe for him after dark. [Two] who had evidently partaken freely of sake, placed themselves directly in our paths, and grasping their sword-hilts, looking full in our faces, saluted us with the word 'baka' [fool]. . . . My companion laid his hand upon his holsters, and our friends, who, like all Japanese, appeared to have a wholesome horror of firearms, sheered off with a muttered growl. Niphon and Pe-che-li 'It was now getting dark; the number of drunken revellers was increasing.' It was a relief to de Fonblanque when, after emerging from the narrow streets of Shinagawa, they came to an open space with the bay on one side and the 'parklike grounds of a Daimyo on the other' before reaching Tozenji. Robert Fortune also came to Edo while Alcock was at Tozenji. He too came up from Yokohama by road. He found that with the exception of a few hundred yards here and there, the whole road from Kanagawa to Edo was lined on each side with houses. He thought Kawasaki 'a busy market town'. Now and then he 'met a long train of coolies and armed men in the wake of a norimono containing an official or person of rank. The coolies were carrying the luggage, and the retainers were in attendance probably as much

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for show as for the protection of their master.' At the Rokugo river they had to cross in flat-bottomed boats. The horses were put into one; the yakunin who accompanied him and Fortune himself going in another. He noted that at the time the river was but a small stream of one hundred feet in width, and quite shallow. The boats were guided across by long bamboo poles. At Omori they stopped at the 'Mansion of Plum-trees' (presumably Umeyashiki) where some 'pretty damsels' invited them in for refreshment. Fortune noted that in front of the door there was a matted platform, raised about a foot from the ground and covered overhead. Ladies travelling in norimono or kago, when about to stop at the tea-house, are brought alongside of this platform, the bearers give the conveyance a tilt on one side, and the fair ones are literally emptied out upon the stage. They seem quite accustomed to this treatment, and immediately gather themselves up in the most coquettish way possible. Yedo and Peking Fortune was brought by his 'fair waiting-maids' cakes, sweetmeats and a number of hard-boiled eggs, which one of the maids kept cracking and peeling, and pressing upon him. Meanwhile his yakunin were enjoying themselves in a neighbouring room. Fortune visited Nihonbashi. He described the bridge as 'a strong wooden structure resting on piles, and riveted together with massive clamps of iron'. From here he rode on to Asakusa which he called Ah-sax-saw. This seems to have changed less than any other part of Tokyo as his description tallies closely with what we see today. He enjoyed his stay with Alcock at Tozenji and then on his return to Yokohama explored the area around, including Kamakura. He wanted to pay another visit to Edo, but this presented problems. Alcock was away in China and it was only possible to visit the city if invited by the Minister to the Shogun's court. Fortune was reluctant to approach the Charge d'Affaires in case he courted a refusal. Instead he wrote to Townsend Harris, the American Minister, who invited him to stay at the US Legation in Edo. On his way into the city he met some members of the British Legation out riding and exchanged greetings with them. He arrived at the temple occupied by Townsend Harris between five and six o'clock and was most kindly received. While he was at dinner he was handed a peremptory letter from F. G. Myburgh, the British Charge d'Affaires informing him that he had no authority to be in Edo, as he had not been invited by the British Minister. He was requested to leave Edo without delay. On the following morning Fortune sent a reasonable letter of ex-

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 109 planation and went out to visit some nursery gardens. He found as a result 'several new and important plants' to add to his collection. On his return to the American Legation he received another letter from Myburgh. Its tone was even more peremptory. Myburgh did not care what Fortune's purpose was. Fortune was a private individual and had not asked the necessary permission. Fortune had not had the 'common courtesy' to communicate with the Charge and had acted 'in an improper manner'. Myburgh called on Fortune to quit Edo at once. To allow him to remain 'would be to establish a dangerous precedent'. Fortune informed Myburgh that he would leave the city at once — that evening or the following morning. A Royal Navy medical officer recorded some reminiscences of a visit to the capital of the Tycoon: The Daimyo's so-called palaces are but mean representations of our usual idea of that word. Some are very extensive, and cover a space of from half to three quarters of a square mile. . . . A square or rectangle of ground is enclosed by long low buildings of wood, with tiled roofs, and with the lower portion of the wall that faces the street tiled also, the joists being covered with plaster, so as to present a number of horizontal series of dark blue-grey white-bordered squares or lozenges. The principal entrance is surmounted by ponderous woodwork, more or less elaborately carved; and is closed by strong gates, made firm with iron bars and nails. The windows are few, have paper panes, wooden shutters, and are generally crossed by wooden bars. In the interior of this space are the various residences of the great man [i.e., the Daimyo] his women, and of himself, interspersed with small gardens and clumps of trees. He noted that the Marunouchi district or 'official quarter' was a sort of island enclosed by a moar some 30 feet broad, with high stone-faced banks, very carefully constructed, and kept in repair, and traversed by few bridges. . . . Here the streets were broad, well-kept, and little frequented, and the space seemed entirely occupied by the moated residences of vassal Daimyo and Hatamoto [who ranked below the Daimyo but above the ordinary samurai]. This medical officer accompanied the British Minister in a call on the Goroju [literally the elders, i.e. senior councillors]. He thought that 'the only thing remarkable about these high Japanese swells was the extreme courtesy of their voices when they addressed our minister through the interpreter and the fineness of the silk of which their garments, and especially their hakama, or trousers, were made. On

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the other hand our representative and his clerks were dressed in the most odd assemblage of costumes imaginable. Some had a kind of uniform cap with a gold band. Some a simple and exceedingly unimposing 'wideawake'. Nor were their coats uniform, but were of such shape and colour as individual taste suggested. With this funny mixture of civilian and official dress, a sword was worn, and the effect of the whole was indescribably ludicrous. Finally, to one who has been any length of time in Yokohama, Edo is exceedingly uninteresting. There is nothing to be seen (that is, nothing is permitted to be seen) worthy of remark that cannot be equally well seen in Yokohama, with a few exceptions. And the shops, such as we were allowed to enter, were altogether as inferior as their wares. We were six days there, and we were all heartily glad to getJback again to our anchorage in Yokohama Bay. The Chinese and Japanese Repository, xxiii, 1 June 1865 The British Legation After the second Tozenji incident the British Legation was mainly based in Yokohama, but when visiting Edo, at least up to 1865, continued to use Tozenji. Ernest Satow declared that a building like Tozenji was totally unsuitable for the residence of Her Majesty's Minister. He pointed out that the cutting north-west wind pierced the thin and badly jointed boarding, 'while the keen draughts pierce through between the uprights and the shrunken lath and plaster walls'. Protracted negotiations had led to the assignment of an excellent site, on which a complete series of buildings was being constructed from English designs, but at the expense of the Shogun's Government. Other sites in the immediate vicinity had been given to the French, Dutch and Americans for the same purpose. All these were carved out of what had once been a favourite pleasure resort of the people of Edo, whither in spring all classes flocked to picnic under the blossoms of the cherry-trees in sight of the blue waters of the bay. Gotenyama was indeed a famous spot in the history of the Shogunate. Satow noted that the gardens had been dedicated to public use but that 'even before the arrival of the hated foreigners, vast masses of earth had been carried off to form part of the line of forts' in Edo bay. The British Minister's residence, a large two-storied house, which from a distance seemed to be two, stood on an eminence fronting the sea. Magnificent timbers had been employed in its construction, and the rooms were of palatial dimensions. The

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 111 floors were lacquered, and the walls covered with a tastefully designed Japanese paper. Behind and below it a bungalow had been erected for the Japanese secretary, and a second destined for the assistants and students. On the southern side of the compound was an immense range of stables containing stalls for forty horses, and on the second storey quarters for a portion of the European guard. A Diplomat in Japan The British Legation buildings had made faster progress than those for the Dutch and French Legations. For better security, Satow recorded, 'a deep trench was being dug round the enclosure, and a lofty wooden palisade was built on the inner margin'. But the British never occupied these buildings as they were all destroyed by fire on the night of 1 February 1863. For a short time after Sir Harry Parkes arrived in 1865 as the second British Minister to Japan, in succession to Sir Rutherford Alcock, the Legation made use of quarters at Daichuji, another temple in Shinagawa. Then in 1866 the Legation moved into buildings specially built for them at Sengakuji where the tombs of the famous forty-seven ronin are preserved. 'A. B. Mitford (later Lord Redesdale and then a Second Secretary in the Legation) described the Legation buildings at Sengakuji as two long, low, ramshackle bungalows, the one for the Minister, the other for us in a court below the famous temple of Sengakuji... At the gate was an outbuilding occupied by a guard of the 9th Regiment, now the Norfolks. . . . In addition to the English soldiers we had a large guard of bettegumi, a corps of samurai of rather humble class specially raised for the protection of foreign officials, but who were far more concerned with spying upon us than fighting for us. ... The bungalow barracks under Sengakuji furnished a miserable lodging — neither doors, windows nor shutters fitted; there were a few stoves, which either got red-hot and smelt of burning iron or gave no heat at all. The wind whistled through long passages and chilly rooms, so that it almost seemed as if we should be better off in the open, where at any rate there would be no draughts.' On that first evening (in November 1866) there was no temptation to sit up late; shivering and shaking, we went to bed very early, but it was long before even a pile of blankets could bring enough warmth to enable me to sleep. While it was yet quite dark, and it seemed to me the middle of the night, I was

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awakened by a bugle call. I jumped up and ran, pistol in hand, formidable, breathing bloody vengeance, as I did at Yokohama when the earth quaked, to the verandah to see what was the terrible danger — hailed the sentry outside. 'What is the matter?' 'Please Sir, it's only the rewelly' (i.e. Reveille). What with the discomfort of the buildings, the sensation of being closely guarded and the inquisitive watchfulness of the bettegumi we felt as if we were in prison. So Mitford and Satow sought and obtained Sir Harry Parkes's permission to their hiring a little temple outside Sengakuji. This was the Monryuin. It was, according to Mitford, a delicious little shrine a few hundred yards from the Legation, on a tiny hill commanding a lovely view over the bay of Yedo; we were the first foreigners to live out of bounds in that great city. From the bettegumi there was no escape — not even for an afternoon's walk or to go across to the Legation. Otherwise we were free, we could hold intercourse with natives, and if we heard the 'rewelly' it was softened by distance. Mitford added: We mounted our little menage very frugally. In order to save the expense of a cook, a batterie de cuisine, knives and forks, etc, we got our dinner sent in from a Japanese Bookshop; with rice and fish we did well enough — adding now and then a little dish of chicken or duck. But there came a day when the weather, having been too bad for the fishermen to go out, our restaurateur with many apologies sent us a dinner of bamboo shoots and sea-weed. That was a jour maigre with a vengeance. Memories When Mitford revisited the Monryuin forty years later 'the dainty little dwelling was all rack and ruin, the trim garden a wilderness of unwholesome weeds. It was a piteous sight.' It has since disappeared with so much of old Edo/Tokyo. Mitford was not initially impressed with Edo. In a letter to his father dated 31 October 1866 he wrote: It is pretty in detail with charming lanes about it and delicious little peeps, but there is nothing grand or magnificent. In fact a bird's eye view of Edo is exactly like the view one gets when some Lowland cattle farmer takes one to a small eminence and shows one his cattle sheds in interminable parallel lines. This is Edo — low narrow buildings in straight lines round dirty squares. I say dirty advisedly for although there is great

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 113 cleanliness inside the houses the filthy abominations outside are as bad as China.

stenches

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The British diplomats managed to avoid direct involvement in the civil war actions in Edo in 1868. The Legation spent much of the time in Yokohama. The Sengakuji site was not regarded as satisfactory in the long run and negotiations were started for an alternative. On 3 May 1872 a provisional lease was signed between the Japanese Foreign Minister and Mr F. O. Adams, the British Charge d'Affaires, covering the present site of the British Legation near Kojimachi. The Legation did not move to the new location until the end of 1874 when the brick buildings to house the residence, chancery and secretaries were completed. These buildings were seriously damaged during the 1923 earthquake and the present earthquake-proof Queen Anne or Georgian-style buildings were built in the late 1920s. Tokyo: The Settlement at Tsukiji Edo was renamed Tokei or, as it became known, Tokyo, after the Restoration in 1868. It was officially opened for trade on 1 January 1869, with Dr Willis as the first Vice-Consul resident in the city. The foreign settlement was established at Tsukiji, which was also the port for Edo/Tokyo. The settlement did not attract many merchants and Tsukiji was never popular with foreigners, as E. G. Holtham explained: As a commercial port, Tokyo was of no value to foreigners, having no convenient harbour, the nearest roadstead being five miles away, outside the forts of Shinagawa; and though a custom house, bonded warehouses, etc., had been started at Tsukiji, very little had been made of them owing to the superior convenience of Yokohama, less than twenty miles away, and connected by rail and water. With the exception of the American Legation, one mercantile establishment, and a miserable hotel, the only buildings in Tsukiji concession were the residences, schools, or churches of the foreign missionaries: the residences being extremely comfortable, and the schools and churches (always excepting those under the Catholic missionaries) being a set of mean little conventicles, all with a family likeness to the upper part of a toy Noah's ark, suggesting the idea that any person a very little over the ordinary stature might if he liked open the roof on one side and take out the persons to play with. Eight Years in Japan, 1873-1881

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The 'miserable hotel' mentioned by Holtham, drew unfavourable comments from others, including Henry Faulds: We soon took up our quarters in the apology for a hotel which then existed in the 'foreign concession'. The owner - peace be to his once rubicund visage — was an Irish-American, whom eviltongued rumour credited with having suddenly left Shanghai, after someone had died of a dose of lead improperly administered. Nine Years in Nipon The 'Yedo Hotel' The hotel is situated fronting the water, from which it is divided by a narrow slip of prettily laid out garden.' The hotel was originally intended to be a 'large hostelerie, to which all might go and find ample accommodation'. But it was ultimately made a 'job' of, however, by being given over (for a consideration) to a private speculator, who got up a Japanese company, consisting of tradesmen of the city; and it thus became a kind of monopoly of a very objectionable character. The shareholders were generally men who had articles to supply that foreigners require. . . . At one time it was impossible, and even now it is difficult, to induce outside shop-keepers to send purchases to the hotel. The proprietors engaged a foreigner as manager, but so tied his hands that he could do but little towards removing annoyances that visitors were exposed to. At one time there was a fine large billiard-room with two good tables, and a general sitting-room — but now there is only a single table in an ordinary-sized room, and there is no sittingroom — although there are upwards of 80 rooms in the building. The American and Spanish Consuls had apartments in the hotel. 'Had only ordinary liberality been displayed by the proprietors they might have secured most of the foreigners resident in Edo as boarders . . .', but a French restaurant has been established which takes the majority of the custom. The large building has a semi-deserted appearance, and as long as the Japanese proprietors interfere as they do with the foreign manager . . . they cannot hope for real success for their speculation. The Far East, 16 August 1870 The missionary doctor, Henry Faulds, left some impressions of the Tsukiji settlement:

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 115 By and by we succeeded in securing at an exorbitant rent a little barrack-like wooden building, erected, I think, for some French soldiers, the chief objection to which was a plague of frogs. They were 'fat and full of sap', and seemed never to be happy unless when getting under one's feet. At night they kept the sour reedy swamp which was honoured with the title of 'compound', vocal with their hoarse paeans. Here some doctors' apprentices, thirsting for Western lore, scented me out from afar, and would patiently appear at break of day, tapping gently at our bedroom door, or, peering in at the open front and back windows, would salute us with a very deferential ohayo [good morning]. This ought no doubt to have been very pleasant from a social point of view, but it takes a little while to acclimatize one's self to new phases of manners. Patients- soon followed in -daily growing numbers, and for a long time, till my medical work had been fully organised in suitable premises, neither my wife nor I knew what privacy was. The surroundings soon told on us both pretty severely. . . . The canals near us were usually lively in the hot days with schoolboys bathing, and frequently there would be a shout and a sudden rush of people; an hour or so afterwards a pale little limp and lifeless corpse would be dragged out, still clutching firmly a tuft of chara or other water-weed, under the cruel coils of which the swiftly out-rushing tide had dragged the poor child. Nine Years in Nipon A western manifestation The westernization of Tokyo and of life in the capital had now started in earnest and in the next three decades Tokyo was transformed. In 1874 the Emperor and Empress played their part: On Tuesday evening, the 7th inst., an exhibition of brilliantly illuminated pictures of foreign lands, was held at the Mikado's Palace, by one of the professors of the Kaiseigakko [Kaisii school], and the two bands of the Naval Academy were present to furnish music for the occasion. The large and elegantlycarpeted reception-rooms of the Palace, were selected as the place of exhibition, and were so arranged as to show off the beautiful views to good advantage; tall screens were placed about the stereopticon and other instruments, which stood in the centre of the room, and the pictures. The Emperor and Empress were ushered into the room, followed by quite an impressive retinue, consisting chiefly of

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young ladies dressed in white, with their long, dark hair streaming behind, and broad red and blue sashes encircling their waists; the effect was really very pretty, and quite unique, as this charming procession of fair ones entered, and quietly seated themselves behind his Majesty, while the band struck up the 'Mikado's Hymn', and the word 'Welcome' with the brilliant light fell upon the curtain. The chief officers of the Kunaisho, or Household Department, sat on the opposite side of the room from His Majesty, and a little to the right a few attendants were also placed. Tokudaiji, the Lord Chamberlain, and several other high officers, were in attendance on His Majesty; and everything passed off in a very pleasant and social manner, there being nothing stiff or formal, and yet there was a subdued stillness and becoming dignity about it all. At the outset, dissolving views were exhibited, showing Windsor Castle, Sandringham Hall, the Parliament Houses, and other English and Scottish places of interest, during which the band played 'God save the Queen'. Mr Hatakeyama, (who accompanied the Embassy in all their European experiences, and at their various court-receptions etc, abroad), sat near His Majesty, and explained all the views as they were announced, designating, at the same time, the particular places visited by the Embassy, and enlivening the occasion by little incidents of their experience. After nearly a hundred of the various well known scenes in Europe and America had been shown, interspersed with some very curious revolving chromatropes, and an ocean scene which was particularly impressive by the magnesium light, a few very comic movable figures were introduced, which created considerable merriment among the fair ones of the white-robed retinue, sitting to the left, though they were very subdued and dignified in their expression of it. The Far East The show at the Palace was in fact given by an American missionary teacher at the Kaisii school by the name of E. Warren Clark. Clark explained that after he had given some 'brilliant exhibitions of pictures' at the Naval College, the 'fame of the stereopticon reached the palace, just as I intended it should!' The Empress and the ladies of the court 'were exceedingly desirous of seeing the beautiful pictures of western countries. But of course the ladies could not leave the palace.' So Clark offered to give a show in the palace to which 'the Mikado might come . . . if he saw fit'. His offer was accepted. He

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selected the largest of the state apartments, as the most suitable in which to give the exhibition and asked the Lord Chamberlain to fix a date. The Lord Chamberlain 'consulted the Mikado, who was just about to take a walk'. On the appointed day Clark took his apparatus to the palace and set it up. Two naval bands were provided for the occasion through the> good offices of Katsu Kaishu, the Minister responsible for the Navy. The exhibition lasted an hour and a half and 'the Mikado seemed exceedingly interested'. Clark had not so far been able to 'secure the long-desired peep at the Mikado and the fair members of the Imperial household' as the room had been dark during the show and the Lord Chamberlain 'planned to remove the Mikado and his court from the room, without giving the foreigner time to have a satisfactory look at them.' However, Clark achieved his wish by using one of his instruments to shoot 'a broad beam of white light, dazzling as the sun, down the long corridor through which the procession must pass.' Clark commented that the Mikado's 'profile is not very pleasing. . . . On the whole, the Mikado is a sensible man and a good emperor, but as a 'god' he is fast becoming a failure.' After the show Clark was given some refreshments, but 'the confectionary was too artistic to eat'; so he was allowed to take it home to show to his friends. He was driven back to the college in an Imperial coach. His instruments were returned the following day and a month later 'a magnificent gold lacquer box' came to him 'with the compliments of the Mikado and the thanks of the ladies of the court'. Life and adventures in Japan Security improves In the early days after the Meiji Restoration Tokyo was a far from safe place for the foreigner. In January 1869, almost as soon as he had taken up his duties as British Vice-Consul in Tokyo, Dr Willis on his way to the hospital, was threatened by a swashbuckler. In September that same year Sir Harry Parkes had an encounter with another rough-neck: I had an accident the other day. A ruffian cut at me as I was coming home from an interview with the Foreign Minister. Providentially he missed both me and dear old Shah [his dog]. I was going at a rapid pace which interfered with his aim. He had a companion and the street was thronged at the time. It was just getting dusk. I pulled up and turned upon them and succeeded in capturing one — the other dived into a house and got away for the moment, but having secured one of them, the Government were able to learn who the other man was, and they captured

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him the same night. They are now on trial. The ruffian admits having drawn on me, but pleads intoxication in excuse, and says he only intended to frighten me. There would have been little room for a joke if the long sweeping cut which he delivered with his two-handed sword had taken effect, and I shall have to insist upon the wretch being severely punished as an example to others. I wish the day would come when the lower class of the two-sworded men could be disarmed. They are a standing source of danger both to their own people and to foreigners. The Life of Sir Harry Parkes In fact the wearing of swords was forbidden in 1876 and although anti-foreign elements (the bully-boys referred to as soshi) continued to be a threat, W. G. Dixon was able to declare: It is not too much to say that Tokyo is a safer city to dwell in than London. After dusk an Englishman is likely to run more risk in his own capital than in that of Japan. This fact may be due partly to the naturally mild disposition of the Japanese people; but there can be no doubt that it results principally from the efficiency of the police force. Dixon was one of a number of foreigners who were allowed or encouraged to visit Japanese prisons to see for themselves how the new system worked. Dixon visited the great prison at Tsukudajima at the mouth of the Sumidagawa and was duly impressed. He noted the 'clean and commodious cells, the only defect perhaps being the want of heating apparatus' (still a problem in Japanese prisons). He was struck by 'the industry of the inmates' and impressed by the sanitary arrangements. He declared, surprisingly, that the discipline of Japanese prisons is now so satisfactory, that it is not uncommon for parents to submit their incorrigible children to it. Inmates on this footing are distinguished from the criminals by their dress, which is green instead of orange. During the day both classes freely intermix, but at night they are kept separate. These incorrigibles, like the younger criminals, have much of their time occupied with lessons. . . . For the admission of refractory children in this way, parents of sufficient means pay a trifle, but those who are poor receive the privilege for nothing. Dixon was critical of Japanese bureaucracy. Government departments were 'over-officered'. He put this down partly to Japanese 'love of officialism' and the need to provide posts for former samurai. Japanese officials were in his view prone to trouble themselves over

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 119 trifles and were unwilling to sacrifice the letter of a law to its spirit. He reported one day to Japanese officials that a door was by mistake being constructed in his garden fence. He was promptly told that it would be removed. He was surprised to see the workman continuing his work and even fitting on a lock. When he complained he was told that as a contract had been made to fit the door, the contract had to be fulfilled before another contract could be entered into for its removal. *He noted that there was little personal friendship between Japanese officials and foreigners. Of official courtesy there is no lack, nor yet of official hospitality. But informal intercourse as between friend and friend is unfortunately rare. This state of affairs is probably due, on the Japanese side, to a certain consciousness of inability to entertain the foreigner in a style that will be appreciated. His house, the Japanese thinks, must look poor in the eyes of a foreigner. The Land of the Morning Daily life about 1880 Dixon found living in Tokyo quite as easy as living in Britain. 'Almost any ordinary European article of food' could be had, 'sometimes cheaper and seldom dearer than at home'. It would be a mistake to think that in going to live in Tokyo 'one is leaving all home comforts behind'. His cook 'rejoiced in the possession of more than one suit of European clothes, and might, on important occasions, be seen in a velvet coat and striped trousers, with a gilt watch-chain and seals hanging from his breast and a cigarette in his mouth. . . . His skill in cooking was great, and his ambition still greater.' However the foreign community was constantly changing. Engagements were ceaselessly coming to an end without being renewed. (The era when large numbers of foreigners were employed by the Japanese Government in administrative and technical positions was nearly over.) Dixon declared that much of this change was due to 'the fickleness of the Japanese', although he admitted that shortage of money was also an important factor. 'So continual were the removals, that auctions came to be an important feature in the foreign life of the city. . . .'Auctions were always held on Saturdays, and were regular places of meeting for friends in different parts of the city.' The Victorians were regular churchgoers and in Dixon's time there were two English services every Sunday. One was a Church of England service in, Dixon recorded:

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a former Buddhist temple at Shiba and the other, of a more extemporaneous character, in the neat little Union Church at Tsukiji. The latter was the more largely attended; it was conducted in rotation by about a dozen missionaries of various Protestant denominations, American and British. The church was so close to the waters of the bay, that the crews of the ponderous junks entering the river could easily catch the strains of the Christian hymns. Outside the door there was usually during service a row of jinrikishas, with one or two carriages and riding-horses with their grooms; for many in the congregation had several miles to come. All around were houses in foreign style, the residences and schools of the various missionaries. The Land of the Morning Dixon noted the speed with which the city was changing. The yashiki, or residences of the Daimyo, were fast disappearing and 'mingled with the yashiki buildings is often some modern erection of a quasi-European style of architecture, probably an unsightly array of lath and plaster barracks.' At Sakuradamon by the Imperial Palace at ten in the morning 'instead of two-sworded retainers may be seen groups of Japanese gentlemen in European clothes making their way to the different government offices, some on foot, others in jinrikisha, a few in carriages driven by horses. The change of dress is not to their advantage.' He thought that Japanese, who had been accustomed to high wooden clogs, walked with short tentative steps ludicrous in a man wearing our boots, and somehow suggesting 'a hen on a hot girdle'. The buildings of the Imperial College of Engineering, to which Dixon was attached, stood just within Toranomon. They were, Dixon declared, 'the handsomest which the Government has yet erected in foreign style. After entering by an elegant iron gate, we pass a Gothic building with a clock tower. . . . Opposite this building to our right, is a long line of dormitories.' There was a good library with over 13,000 books in English and Japanese, an assembly hall and classrooms 'exactly as they might be in a European college'. 'The only department which calls for adverse criticism is the dormitory.' Insufficient heating appliances made the rooms far from comfortable in winter and the rooms lacked the cleanliness of Japanese apartments. Some later visitors and residents Later views of Tokyo varied from the highly critical to the enthusiastic. One critic was Major Henry Knollys, who thought there was a great deal of monotony in the vastness of the city. It had, he thought,

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 121 very little commerce, 'in its true mercantile sense' and 'as for its buildings, public or private, they are absolutely unworthy of mention, except, perhaps, these everlasting temples. It is, in fact, a city of magnificent distances without magnificence.' He thought that there was 'a certain amount of mongrel about the city. Here, for example, is a long stretch of dull, gloomy buildings and warehouses, orderly indeed, but with a musty, decayed aspect which antiquaries would pronounce interesting, but which appear to me simply depressing.' Another critic was the great Japanologist, Basil Hall Chamberlain. In a letter to Lafcadio Hearn from Miyanoshita dated 4 July 1893 Chamberlain declared: that damnable mixture of muck, mildew, and miasma, which at Tokyo masquerades under the name of air, doubled me up after two or three days in it. I could never go out of my house of an evening. In another letter dated 14 May 1894 from Tokyo Chamberlain declared: I loathe Tokyo, for the simple but sufficient reason that I never feel well here for 48 hours together. I loathe the stinks, which actually take headers down my throat. . . . Also I care little for the Europeans here, . . . I shall fall dreadfully in your estimation; but the atmosphere of an 'open port' - at any rate of Yokohama and of Kobe - is infinitely more congenial to my taste. Chamberlain declared that the community in Tokyo was a hotbed of petty intrigue, of jealousies anent invitations to Garden Parties, overhearings by officials of what is casually said at the Club, etc. Yokohama is magnificent. So is Kobe. . . . When I am here, I feel caged. When there, free. Letters to Lafcadio Hearn Sir Edwin Arnold was more enthusiastic. He thought that Tokyo gave the impression of being mainly a bigger Yokohama, without the beautiful sea view: The trundling jinrikishas; the little shock-headed Japanese in dark blue coats and tight trousers; the tiny womenkind with hair banded and brushed into fantastic, glossy, immovable coiffures; the mothers with the slit-eyed babies lashed upon their backs — so like to dolls that you almost look for the wire wherewith to make them wink or squeak; the smart little

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soldiers in brick-red breeches; the immaculately gloved policemen; the postmen in soup-plate hats running along with letter-bags; the endless clatter of the innumerable wooden pattens; the shuffling of the countless waraji [straw sandals]; the slow, shaggy oxen dragging the bamboo waggons; the pretty, grave, delightful, happy children, racing along the public way, with flowing sleeves, like those of a Master of Arts, and flowers in their hair, or flying kites of astonishing devices, or clambering about the stone gods and demons of some Buddhist temple, or broadly and blandly staring at the foreigner with languid almond eyes and little painted mouths wide open; the fishermen, with specimens of piscine natural history which make mermaids commonplace, and sea-serpents appetizing; the gigantic radishes; the absurd English inscriptions on the signboards; the funny small shops, with their hanging screens of blue cloth and reeds; the squatting shopkeepers; the cakeman with his tinkling bell; the blind amma [masseur] or shampooer; the small black and white houses, ranged in endless rows as if out of a wooden toy-box, with paper fronts and sliding shoji [paper screen]; the tootling of the tramcar horns; the spick and span musume [literally 'daughters' but here means simply 'girls'], tripping, with shining tresses and pigeon-feet, to dance or to dinner; the startling things in toyshops, and restaurants, and 'butcheries' where badgers, wild boars, and silver pheasants are hanging up at the poulterers', beside ducks, and snipe, and hares; the great kites and noisy crows sweeping round and round above the traffic of the bazaar, and at the four-cross way, where a long vista opens westward, Fuji's grand and perfect peak sixty miles off, towering above the rosy clouds of sunset, lifting itself to our far-off gaze in such majesty of form and colour as no other mountain in the world possesses - a sight that puts on the other sights, as it were, the Creator's own mark when He made this wonderful, delightful, unique, and mysterious Japan. Seas and Lands Douglas Sladen who like Arnold was in Tokyo in the 1890s, was enthusiastic about Tokyo. He commented that the English who pay a flying visit to Japan, and go up to Tokyo only for a few days, seldom like it: they prefer Yokohama, with its excitements and its flesh-pots; but to me Tokyo, is, like Rome, one of the most delightful cities I was ever in. It is wonderfully beautiful; so undulating, so full of magnificent temples and groves, so full of Japanese land and

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 123 water life. It is intensely Japanese. If we wandered off the beaten tracks, we often did not run across a foreigner for days together. The Japs at Home Sladen enthused about Ueno and Shiba and compared the area around Nihonbashi with Venice! Royal visits During the Meiji period there were a number of Royal visitors to Tokyo. The first to come, in the summer of 1869, was HRH the Duke of Edinburgh, younger son of Queen Victoria, who was serving in the Royal Navy on HMS Galatea. According to A. B. Mitford 'the Japanese Government were wildly excited, for it was the first time that a Royal Prince had paid ( a visit to the Mikado'. (Mitford's account of the visit was included in my Mitford's Japan (1985).) Sir Harry Parkes, the British Minister, commenting on the visit in a letter to his wife dated 17 September 1869 noted that he had given a dinner-party for 'twenty-four celebrities'. This was followed by a ball attended by thirty-six ladies. The ball-room and drawing-room [of the residence at that time on the Bluff in Yokohama] were 'very prettily decorated' although the floor was 'almost too slippery'. 'The Prince danced the first quadrille with Lady Hornby [wife of the consular court judge from Shanghai]. He danced another quadrille but only one waltz 'and that with Mrs Marshall, to the envy of many other ladies. He was unwell and left the room early. The party kept it up vigorously till two.' Ninnaji no Miya, an Imperial Prince, who was Minister of War, and Uwajima, the former Daimyo and Minister of Finance, attended both the dinner and the ball, but presumably did not join in the dancing. In 1879 Prince Henry of Prussia, a grandson of Queen Victoria, visited Tokyo. Sir Harry invited him to attend the Queen's Birthday Ball. 250 acceptances were received. A large pavilion for use as a supper-room was constructed on the lawn of the residence in Tokyo and another for the band. The day broke 'as fairly as could be desired, but at twelve it began to rain'. The pavilions were thoroughly soaked and Sir Harry was in despair. About half his guests from Yokohama and three-quarters of the Tokyo guests turned up, about 170 in all. 'It was as well that no more came, as we were confined to the rooms. . . . But the guests determined to enjoy themselves . . . Prince Henry came and stayed a short time but did not dance. He only received on his arrival in Yokohama the letters about his brother's death.' Parkes thought Prince Henry 'a very nice young boy of seventeen. On board ship he attends to his middy's duties just like other midshipmen. The Mikado has put him up in the

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Summer Palace [Hama -Rikyu or Goten] by the shore, and is giving him a very good reception.' In 1881 Prince Albert and Prince George (later King George V), sons of the Prince and Princess of Wales, came to Japan while serving in the Royal Navy on HMS Bacchante. The princes landed for five days' leave ashore on 24 October 1881. It was drizzling. Two of the Emperor's carriages took them to Yokohama station, where a special train was waiting. On arrival in Tokyo they were taken to the Enryokan, the official guest-house in the Hama Goten. One of their party was Prince Louis of Battenberg. After lunch they set off in jinrikisha to visit Asakusa accompanied by Ernest Satow as guide. They dined at the Enryokan attended by Japanese Government Ministers. During dinner the Mikado sent his private band, the Reijin, to play on old Japanese, Chinese and Corean instruments. . . . The sounds that proceeded from the inner room where these musicians were placed were so faint and plaintive that some of the party ignorantly mistook them for preparations of a band tuning up, and as it went on for some time inquired when they were going to begin to play. After dinner there were 'some very good fireworks' and 'some firstrate juggling and conjuring'. The princes shared 'one large room together, with a comfortable dressing-room and bathroom opening out into the garden'. They admired the sweet-smelling plain unvarnished and unpainted wood used in the bathroom. On the following morning there was another show in the garden by Japanese tumblers and acrobats. They then visited the Shogun's mausolea at Shiba. After lunch they dressed in uniform and went to call on the Emperor. The Mikado, as they referred to him, was also in full uniform with heavy gold braid. They remarked that although he is not thirty years old . . . he has a much aged look about the face. He is self-possessed and evidently strenuously anxious, though not nervous, to play his part well. The Empress Haruko and her ladies were in Japanese costume; she is very small and would be very pretty if she was not painted up so according to Japanese fashion. . . . All the chamberlains were in European court dress, which had been made at Poole's, and was just the same as the English civilian uniform in dark blue, with gold braid on the front. . . . One of the stout chamberlains who is thus now attired, often at other times wrestles naked with the Mikado. This amusement is one that all Japanese are pas-

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sionately fond of, both in private and public. [By wrestling they were presumably referring to Sumo.] The Emperor asked after the Queen and the Prince and Princess of Wales. 'Eddy' [Prince Albert] replied and told the Emperor that the Queen had commissioned her portrait in oils and was sending this to the Emperor as a 'token of friendship'. After they had returned to the Enryokan and received the corps diplomatique they were shown a 'curious collection of performing birds' and later walked around the grounds. They noted the old carp in the ponds; 'of these we caught several with hook and line baited with worm'. They found in the summer-houses lacquer boxes full of gold-tipped cigars. 'The cigars were very good, but the gilt came off on the lips.' Dinner for thirtytwo was followed by a further entertainment - top-spinning and dancing by Japanese ladies and children. In the account of their travels the entry for the following morning read: Beautiful fine morning. Started at half-past nine for the Hibiya parade ground — a large grass field near the Castle, where the Mikado was to review his troops. We drove there in carriages, and then left these by the tents in which were all the ministers in full uniform, and the corps diplomatique, including two Chinese mandarins in full dress. The Emperor drove on to the ground in his state coach, in which was also seated opposite to him, in full uniform, Tokudaiji, the Minister of the Imperial Household. His Majesty mounted his charger, and we also got on two horses. The officers of the squadron who were present in full uniform were also offered steeds to ride round with the Mikado and staff. These were wiry little ponies, and very skittish. Most availed themselves of the opportunity, but some seemed a trifle anxious as they mounted on this state occasion with naval cocked hats and swords; and as the little ponies kicked and sky-rocketed all over the place, there seemed every likelihood of a general capsize of naval officers in one direction and their paraphernalia in another. There was a great gathering of Japanese officials, also with cocked hats and swords. One of the medical officers from the squadron who was most eager to mount, was, however, no sooner in the saddle than he opened the fray by sending the heels of his steed full into the stomach of the polite little Japanese who helped him up, and then, without waiting to prescribe, went careering away like a sky-rocket to the other side of the field, after which he spent the best part of the time on the horse's neck. The brave little steed meanwhile shot about in all directions, and after nearly cannoning against

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several magnates, who tried to keep out of his way, and formed a ring to watch his erratic gyrations, lashed out at a naval captain as he sat bolt upright on his horse, struck, and nearly smashed his leg; then leaving the print of the hoofs on his trousers, broke away through the crowd and came up again on the other side, to the admiration and wonder of all who beheld him. His rider, although he had apparently discarded his reins, hung on manfully by the pommel, and with his cocked hat over his nose was like nothing so much as a rat looking out through a bunch of scarlet geraniums, and with his sword waving up in the air, like the stiffened tail of a tawny lion, continued his equestrian exercises until it was time to dismount and light a cigar, and over that to profess that he never enjoyed anything so much in his life before. We first rode down the lines with the Mikado; there were about 10,000 men present, wiry, neat, a*id handy in appearance. The brass band — a remarkably good one — played nothing but European tunes. The artillery was very smart, and the cavalry mounted on small ponies looked very serviceable. There is, however, only one regiment of cavalry, of 482 men, in the whole service, owing to the scarcity of horses in Japan. Afterwards there were more acrobats: Then the 'party divided itself in twos and threes, and had an afternoon in the town.' The two princes went in a couple of-jinrikisha and visited the British Legation to call on Mrs Kennedy, the wife of the Charge d'Affaires. Ernest Satow in another jinrikisha then took them, among other places, to the 'Kankoba, or bazaar for modern products of Japanese art and industry' where they bought several items. That* evening, after changing again into uniform, they went to dine with the Emperor. The dinner 'was served in a hall that had never been used before'. They noted that the service of gold plate was made by Garrards [of Regent Street in London], and was the same which we had seen at Marlborough House before it was sent out some years ago. . . . The dessert service of Minton china was an exact facsimile of the blue one with roses in plaques at Marlborough House. The Mikado talked to us both, one on each side of him, through Mr Nagasaki as interpreter, during the whole of dinner-time. The Emperor proposed the Queen's health and Prince Albert responded by proposing the health of the Emperor. There were no ladies present. After dinner the two Princes went to the British Legation

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 127 where Mrs Kennedy had a party for British residents and there was another conjuring performance! On the following morning, they were up at 6.30 a.m. and went for a ride with Prince Louis of Battenberg and the German Minister. They went 'all round the Ueno woods and parks'. They came back quite hungry for breakfast, after which they were 'tattooed on the arms'. They then got into uniform to receive the Mikado who called on them at the Enryokan. 'Before his arrival he sent as a present to both of us four beautiful vases, each three feet high, and worked with silver and gold figures of dragons and flowers on the surface, and four cases containing rolls of silk brocade.' The Mikado also brought them 'a box of a strange imperial sweetmeat (which is only made for him). . . . It was carried into the room in a fine old lacquer case a yard long, which they told us was always taken about as a "snack-box".' Thereafter they visited the naval College (Kaigun Heigakko) and watched various drills. Then they saw a game of dakyu [Japanese polo] and visited Atago-yama with Ernest Satow to get a bird's-eye view of the city. From there they went on by jinrikisha to visit Sengakuji and the tombs of the 47 Ronin. After dinner there was a ball at the Imperial College of Engineering (Kobudaigakko) given by the Mikado for the British residents of Tokyo and Yokohama. Two special trains brdught the residents of Yokohama! The ball was attended by Prince and Princess Higashi Fushimi and other princes and their wives. Several officers from the squadron and fleet put in an appearance, as did also a large number of Japanese in black evening costume, but very few of these danced. There was plenty of room, as the ballroom was a large one, built in horrid European fashion, with iron pillars and girders supporting great galleries at the sides and one end. The best thing that can happen to it is to be shaken down by the next earthquake when no one is in it. The Cruise of HMS Bacchante Next day there was a duck-netting party [a sport of comparatively recent date]. They were also able to see a ground tournament between men in ancient Japanese armour fighting in the olden style. In the evening there was a Japanese dinner at a Japanese club in Shiba. Tokyo continued to change and a kind of European society developed. The flavour of life for the foreigner in Tokyo towards the end of the last century is conveyed in an amusing account of a brief stay in Tokyo given by Sara Duncan who was accompanied by an English girl called 'Orthodocia'. They took a small Japanese house at

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Fujimi-cho, Ni-chome, Sanju-banchi, Kudan, Koji-machi. This was not far from the British Legation. Sarah Duncan declared that this was a 'decidedly aristocratic locality'. They were opposite the Imperial Palace moat and 'plain two-storey barracks . . . stretch in several directions'. Early on the first morning in their Japanese style bedroom they were rudely awakened: 'Tegamir said the figure, 'Tegamil [Letter]' I closed my eyes and then I rubbed them for instead of fading away after the manner of people in dreams, Buddha still stood with a halo round him saying persistently 'Tegamir 'It's the cook,' remarked Orthodocia, suddenly; 'and he's got a letter.' It was four o'clock in the morning, and the first mail for the day had just been delivered by a postman running at the top of his speed. For a nation disinclined to exert itself, this seemed enterprising. We discovered afterwards that the telegraph system was one of extreme leisure. They eventually got up and went downstairs. Orthodocia found that she could not get into the tiny kitchen as it was so full. They counted seven persons in all excluding the jinrikisha man! The landlord came in and explained 'their use and price per head'. There was the cook, Buddha, of a serene countenance, at three yen (dollars) a month, who should prepare our modest repasts, and a sub-cook at two who would prepare his and those of our retinue generally. There was Kiku who would wait upon us in a silk dress at one yen; Tomi who would sweep dust for seventy-five sen (cents); Jokichi, her son, who would at two sen an errand run errands; Yoshitane-san, who was a youth of family, culture, and education, but would be honoured to wash our dishes for us if we would supply his food and converse with him occasionally, for the sake of learning English. And there was an elderly party without any teeth, whose round brown face went into a mass of merry wrinkles when he laughed, who seemed to be of general utility, but no particular use, and who did not even stipulate for the language in return for his services, although English is the chief end of every man in Japan. All he asked was rice every day and fish once a week, and his bow was the longest and lowest of all. They had been keeping house for just two days when they received an invitation from a Mr Takayanagi. He had read of their arrival in a newspaper and thought it appropriate to invite Sara and Orthodocia

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to a garden party in honour of his two sons who had recently returned from college in America! The grounds were full of Japanese - ladies or gentlemen we couldn't quite determine at a glance - walking solemnly about; and several noises were proceeding from different directions. None of them knew us, and we knew none of them, so our immediate duty did not seem very clear. We concluded to go up the principal path, and see what would happen. The first thing that happened was a double file of Japanese gentlemen. 'Probably our host and his relations,' whispered Orthodocia nervously. 'Hadn't we better present our cards?' So we presented our cards, one to each of the first gentlemen in line, who took it, scrutinized it carefully, bowed very low indeed, and passed it on to the next, who did precisely the same. It was a little awkward for us, for nobody spoke, and there was hardly room enough on the path for four people, two advancing and one on each side, to bow properly in the Japanese manner, but we got through it; ... Then away on ahead of us we saw a pretty group, bright-coloured and graceful, with a centre, and when we reached it we discovered that we had made a slight mistake about the cards, and that the bowing gentlemen had been only a sort of guard of honour. This was our host, this tall, dignified old Japanese with the intellectual face, who shook hands with us in pleasant welcome, and turned to two dapper youths in very tight-fitting broadcloth suits, to interpret it to us. 'My father says,' said Mr Ichitaro Takayanagi, 'that he is very glad to see you. He says that this lady, my mother, is his wife.' At this a little old woman, all in soft brown and silver gray silk, with her hair in wide, shiny black cushions radiating twenty wonderful hairpins, smiled widely, showing a row of teeth blackened on her marriage day, put her hands on her knees, drew in her breath, and went down before us half a dozen times. As we thought it imperative to return the compliment, we felt relieved when another guest arrived with a claim upon the old lady's politeness. . . . It was all out of doors, Mr Takayanagi's garden party; nobody went near the house, which retreated within itself at one end of the grounds. The grounds themselves reminded us of nothing so much as the maps of the early geographers. They were 'laid out' in mountains and valleys, lakes and rivers, islands and isthmuses. We wandered between forests as high as our knees, we stepped across roaring torrents on their way to join a mare Japonica situated near the front gate. Everything

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was on a scale of colossal imagination, and the most diminutive reality. Mr Takayanagi's sons took charge of them after they had tried to talk to some pretty Japanese girls: Mr Ichitaro and Mr Takashi, whose conduct towards these maids of Nippon we quietly observed, took absolutely no notice of them. They had arrived at a period of evolution in which they looked at the world over high collars, indulged in 'buttonholes,' and carried small canes. They were probably engaged to young American ladies of Boston, who wore spectacles and had a philosophical understanding of Shintoism. These poor little creatures were of a thousand years back; they toddled, they had never seen a dress-improver, they believed in the gods. Mr Ichitaro and Mr Takashi were not rude, but they brought all the pink and white rice-cakes and candy with pepper in it and tiny cups of pure green tea to us, and we felt sorry for the little maids, who probably did not feel sorry for themselves. . . . On one occasion, while Orthodocia was doing her best to converse with a young gentleman in tennis shoes, a silk hat, and a dressing-jacket, and I talked to another in tails and a tarn o'shanter, one of the young Takayanagis bore down upon us with still another, in irreproachable evening dress, lavender kids, patent-leather shoes, white tie and all - and garnished as to his neck with a large, fluffy, comfortable Manchester bath towel, best quality! One day soon after the garden party: 'Don't you think,' said Orthodocia, coming in from the kitchen, where she had been beseeching Buddha for the sixth time that week to refrain from boiling the potatoes with sugar and flavouring the oatmeal with Worcester sauce, *that we ought to go and call upon Mrs Takayanagi?' Sara agreed and so on the last day of November 1888 they went to make a call. They found that the gate was barred. They knocked and knocked at the door but 'it remained blankly unresponsive'. Then they clapped their hands until the welkin rang, and just as Orthodocia's glove spilt explosively from her thumb to her little finger, a 'bobbing figure came round the corner. Eventually one of the daughters appeared. She told them that her father was not at home and her brothers were in Yokohama. When they asked whether her mother was at home the response was a frightened look and 'Wakarimasen' [I don't understand], and the door was shut! They

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waited until the daughter returned to declare: 'My mother is in her bath.' Then one day they were invited to a dinner given by Mrs Jokichi Tomita. The invitation was very polite. It took their 'united efforts and three-quarters of an hour to compose a message' polite enough for their acceptance. They did not realize what they had let themselves in for as they were as yet unused to Japanese customs, houses and meals. After they had viewed their host's various art treasures, brought out of their 'hidden places,' and had felt 'most clumsy' in handling the pieces, they were shown into dinner, Japanese style: Then came the unhappy moment when we were waved to the first cushions in the row, as the honoured guests of the occasion, and expected to sit down on them in full view of the demure little company. We stood over them as long as we could, but it became apparent that so long as we remained standing there was a hitch in the ceremony; so we gradually subsided upon them, the most unearthly groans arising from all parts of Orthodocia's attire at once. 'I shall never get up', she whispered to me, 'without a derrick,' and at that instant I heard the bitter sound of parting laces that proceeds only from a sylphlike form under stress of circumstances. They also encountered the sort of problems with Japanese food which have happened to many others since: Orthodocia looked at her pink spinning-top, nibbled it suspiciously, and then laid it down with a shudder. 'You must eat it!' I prodded her in French. 'It offends them frightfully if you don't!' and I made a determined attack upon mine. Orthodocia looked at the morsel in silent despair, then with a sudden convulsive effort of two mouthfuls she despatched it! I regret that I cannot use any term more suggestive of good manners. The little ladies who had been amusing themselves with theirs for ten minutes, absorbing them daintily crumb by crumb, stared, and one or two put their hands to their mouths. Orthodocia looked unhappy, our host said something to a servant, and he presently came in with three trays heaped high with further confections. Orthodocia spent the next quarter of an hour in declining them. Their host and hostess were determined to give their guests 'the works' and were most generous and hospitable. An entertainment by geisha was provided and a very ample and luxurious meal was produced:

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The samisen [Japanese three-stringed instrument, like a guitar] wailed once more and the little geisha sank to her first posture among her twisted draperies of blue and gold, and then the wall closed again, and our attention was diverted to a series of very beautiful fishes. They were quite dead, indeed they had been cooked in some way, but one of them was presented to each of us, and as they were at least two-pounders this was embarrassing. We had also to experiment upon them with chop-sticks, which was more embarrassing. I had just made an excavation of about half an inch square in mine when the ok' sama [lady of the house] on the other side of me blushed violently, leaned toward me and said, 'It is not necessary all to eat. It is given, and will tomorrow eat be sufficient.' Orthodocia heard with an agonized sigh of relief and dropped her chop-sticks. I looked at her reprovingly, and she made a pun which was so bad that I submit it herewith to illustrate her state of mind. 'It is only,' she said, 'the groaning of the festive bored!' A Social Departure On their way home in the jinrikisha they found a box containing their left-overs. Ella M. Hart Bennett who was in Tokyo with her father in the 1890s has left some amusing glimpses of life in Tokyo towards the end of the century. One English 'charwoman' in Tokyo should not be forgotten: Soon after our arrival in Tokyo we had a difficulty in getting servants, and it was suggested that we should obtain the services of Mrs Peter Potts, whose duties as 'charwoman' at the English Legation only occupied her one day a week. When I first made the old lady's acquaintance she was about sixty-five years old, still hale and hearty, in spite of a somewhat strong predilection, I grieve to say, for 'old Tom'. Her face always reminded me of a dried russet apple, furrowed and lined by years of toil and constant exposure. Her complexion was fresh and ruddy, and shone from a lavish application of soapsuds and much polishing. Her scanty grey locks were generally hidden in the house by a red cotton handkerchief, tied under the chin, out of doors by an appalling erection which was once a bonnet, but which the ravages of time and weather had reduced to a confused jumble of faded blue velvet, yellow flowers, and souvenirs from a deceased rooster's tail.

The Treaty ports: Edo/Tokyo 133 Her clothes, though shabby through much wear and faded from many introductions to the wash-tub, were always scrupulously clean and neat. A rusty black silk dress and mantle, relics of former mistresses, only appeared at weddings and funerals; and the wonderful violet silk garment kept expressly for Royal functions - for the old lady was nothing if not loyal was the above-mentioned garment turned inside out! From many years' employment at the Legation, Mrs Peter Potts had come to consider herself one of the 'staff, and expected to be treated as such. Her respect for the authorities, from the English Minister downwards, was immense, and she had a scale of reverence with which she greeted them - the Court curtsey to His Excellency was a sight to be remembered and wondered at. It could hardly be properly accomplished in an ordinary-sized room, although I have seen the old woman, interrupted in the midst of cleaning a grate, her face and hands black with soot, rise to her feet, catch a piece of rough holland apron in either hand, and sweep backwards across the room in a style a duchess of the eighteenth century could not have surpassed. History, however, relates that a former Minister many years previously had come under ban of Mrs Peter Potts' displeasure, and, in a moment of indignation too strong to be suppressed, she grasped His 'Excurrency' - as she called His Excellency - b the beard and shook it violently, much to the great man's surprise and alarm. Since then, either the Corps Diplomatique became more cautious as to their dealings with their 'colleague' or our friend learnt prudence with age. In any case, of late years the Legation has had no firmer ally than Mrs Potts. 'I allus makes my h'inclinations to them of the Corps 'cause I knows my dooty, Miss,' she said to me one day. The late lamented Mr Peter Potts had departed this life some years before our arrival in Japan. He was a pensioner, having been sent out as gate-keeper to the Legation, then in Yokohama, early in the sixties. Mrs Potts surrounded the memory of her 'poor Peter' with such a halo of romance, and attributed his death to such a marvellous number of mortal diseases that the ex-sergeant of Marines became a glorified figure in her imagination. As a matter of fact, I believe he was a weak sort of creature, very hen-pecked, who died from too great an affection for to the gin bottle. Mrs Potts has no family living, and seems to rejoice in the fact. 'I did once 'ave a little bit of a thing not worth mentioning,

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but, thank the Lord, it was took arter three days. My mother, she 'ad eleven of us, pore soul! all told, and I was the only one as lived to grow up. I was a twin, too, and born with three teeth, and they do say as 'ow they allus are vixens - I know I was when a gal.' She treated our little Japanese maid-servants with condescension and secret contempt. How could> anyone under sixty know how to do things in the proper Way? 'It's comfort, not style, as you wants, my good young lidy,' she would say as she bustled about. Them slips of Jap things can't know your ways as I does.' Once a week she .used to have her mid-day meal with us, and a glass of stout. Then how her tongue would wag! I asked her one day how she had enjoyed her dinner. 'Why, miss, I fancied as 'ow I was at the Gilt 'All (Guildhall). Them young gals was that pressing I thought as 'ow I should never 'ave done.' The memories of her early courtship and marriage always brought a blush to her withered cheek, as she would tell us how she met her 'pore Peter' for the first time, on the Thames Embankment — 'Jist by one of them little trees in cages, you know, my good young lidy.' (This, you will remember, was forty years ago; the trees have grown since then.) 'He did look a proper dook, did Peter, in 'is red uniform - the dead split of the Colonel 'e were.' They were married at the Tower, and soon afterwards came out to Japan, Mrs Potts as temporary maid to the wife of the English Minister. 'Law, miss,' she said to me one day, 'His Excurrency used to get real Victoria Cross sometimes, and stamp, 'e did, fit to scare you into next week, but 'e was a kind master, 'e was. He'd say, "Come along, Mrs Potts, and choose a drink for yourself," and when I said I kind o' fancied a glass o' beer, he'd go and draw it with 'is own 'ands, 'e would.' The old lady had a great admiration for my father. I overheard her saying to Yami one day: 'I think as 'ow the master represents the one from above. He's no respecter of persons, 'e isn't, but treats us all alike - so perlite and consid'rate, 'e is. He says "Thank you, Mrs Potts," as if I was a Duchess, he do.' She was a perfect walking Court Circular. Every event connected with Royalties was of the greatest personal interest to her, and she invariably took a holiday to celebrate any royal birthday, and hung a little Union Jack out of her cottage window.

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Ella Bennet described the Court banquet held to celebrate the Silver Jubilee of the wedding of the Emperor and Empress: The Palace grounds were brilliantly lighted by thousands of coloured lanterns and little lamps. As I stepped out of the brougham into the large entrance-hall, where already many of the guests had assembled, and had my train arranged by two of the gold-laced attendants, I felt as if I were living in some other age, being no longer only an English country girl, but some Japanese Princess of old Japan. After passing down endless corridors brilliantly lit with countless candles, along highly polished and very slippery floors, we arrived at the banqueting-hall. I presently found myself sitting with the Chinese Minister, Mr Wong, on my right and a little Japanese Admiral on my left. My father was some way down on the other side. It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight. Over five hundred guests were present, seated at long tables, which were exquisitely decorated with orchids, roses, ferns, and every kind of fruit in silver dishes. All the dinner-service was also of solid silver. At one end of the hall, a little raised and apart, sat the Emperor and Empress. The latter wore a European dress of rich white satin embroidered all over with silver; and masses of priceless diamonds were round her neck and in her dress. On her head was a small crown studded with precious stones. On either side sat the Royal Princes and Princesses; they all wore the Grand Cross Order of Japan - a broad orange and white ribbon. Every conceivable uniform seemed to be represented — diplomats, generals, admirals, and a few foreigners in court dress. The dinner lasted nearly three hours, and, to judge by the manner His Excellency Mr Wong appreciated every dish, it must have been a very good one. Mr Wong was a tall, oldish man with a shrewd, parchment-like face. He spoke English well and said he was a natural philosopher. He had gorgeous brocades and thick furs lining his long robes. I asked him why he did not wear these brocades outside at night for variety, which idea seemed much to amuse him. He told me his jade ring was worth five thousand dollars. It certainly was a lovely green stone. The little Japanese Admiral, who spoke no English, tried to entertain me by making all sorts of figures out of his bread. At each course he asked for a fresh roll, and, by the end of dinner, we had an array of minute bread soldiers, ladies and animals on the table before us, really most cleverly contrived.

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Before the banquet was half finished I felt I could eat no more, but my two neighbours seemed so distressed* when I passed a dish, that I felt obliged to taste everything. Each guest had before his plate a stork made of solid silver, beautifully chased, standing on a little silver box, with two tortoises at the foot, also in silver. These were presented by their Majesties as souvenirs of their silver wedding. The stork is the emblem of happiness in Japan and the tortoise of long life. Before leaving, we were also presented with silver medals, coined especially for the occasion with an inscription, and enclosed in a black and silver lacquer box. After the banquet we went to the throne-room, where seats were arranged for two thousand guests, many being present who had not attended the dinner. There was a stage, and some very curious acting was performed — old Japanese plays, with weird Japanese music, which resembled cats on a roof more than anything I have every heard. The solemnity of the large audience, the weird acting and the appalling music suddenly inspired me with a wild desire to laugh, and I only saved myself from disgrace by bending my head low and trying to think of everything sad I could recollect. It was no use; I was rapidly becoming hysterical, when a kind little Japanese lady, thinking I was feeling faint, offered me her scent-bottle. This restored me to my senses, and I repressed my feelings until the end of the entertainment. The Emperor and Empress were present, sitting in state together on their thrones. During the whole performance they hardly moved a muscle of their faces, the sign of high breeding in Japan, but the poor Empress looked very pale and exhausted before the end, and neither she nor the Emperor attended the supper to which we were all bidden before leaving the palace. An English Girl in Japan

Osaka Under Article HI of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty concluded by Lord Elgin in 1858, Osaka was due to be opened on 1 January 1863 for residence by British subjects, although they were not granted the same rights of leasing land, purchasing buildings and erecting dwellings, which they were to have in Hyogo (Kobe). In fact, following pleas from the Bakufu the opening of Hyogo (Kobe) was postponed until 1 January 1868, and of Osaka until 1 September 1868. As the second largest city and prime commercial centre in Japan, Osaka should have attracted more traders than Hyogo. But the port of Osaka was not well-adapted to large vessels and the foreign merchants found the amenities of Hyogo much more attractive. As a result, the foreign community in Osaka remained small. The city of Osaka, however, continued to develop as a commercial and industrial centre during the Meiji period. It was chosen as the site of the first Japanese mint. British machinery was installed and British technicians were employed to run it. But the British community consisted mainly of missionaries and a few employees of the Meiji Government.

1861 One of the first British visitors to Osaka in Victorian times was Rutherford Alcock. On approaching the city in the summer of 1861, he recorded that he and his party first saw the city from about a league distant 'with the Tycoon's castle on a wooded eminence commanding a view of the river'. We were nearly an hour in traversing the suburbs of this vast city, before we seemed to gain the great thoroughfare, filled to overflowing with an immense but very orderly crowd. There was pushing and squeezing, and from time to time a desperate descent was made by the police on some luckless wights in the front rank pushed out of line. Blows on the bare head were dealt furiously on all; but the weapon was a fan, and although in their hands a very effective one, it could hardly do much mischief. We came at last to the main river, spanned by a bridge of three hundred yards, well and solidly built, immediately below which there is an island covered with houses in the midst of the 137

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stream, something like the island of St Louis in the Seine. Not a trace of hostile feeling was to be seen anywhere, though the curiosity was great to see the Foreign Ministers. As they had never before known any but natives of Holland pass through their city, I often had the honour of being taken for a Dutchman, the word passing from one to another, 'Hollanda Minister,' and as there were two of us riding in front, they no doubt thought we were duplicates. Here, indeed, as might be seen at a glance, was a vast population, with whom trade was the chief occupation; and at every step evidences of the greatest activity were visible. The city admirably placed on the banks of a large river, which, as it takes its tortuous course through the valley, divides into many branches, farther multiplied by canals, and these and the town together, in loving companionship, spread themselves over an immense plain, filling up the whole space from the hills for many miles towards the sea. We were lodged in a large temple, on the opposite side to that at which we entered, and one with as much pretensions to architecture as can ever be seen in this land of earthquakes. The first day was given up almost entirely to shopping and the theatre. They were taken to some silk shops which were on a larger scale than anything they had seen in Edo. He thought that there were between fifty and a hundred employees in one shop. There was 'no lack of promptness' in producing what they required, but the prices were high. They gave orders in two shops for a number of items to be sent to their lodgings. From these Alcock made a selection of tapestry, embroidery, and silks, 'according to my feeble lights in such matters feminine, sorely perplexed, and deploring the absence of those who could alone choose with taste and judgment combined.' They also attempted to buy some little dogs, 'but no one felt disposed to give thirty or forty koban (from forty to fifty dollars) for a little pug-nosed, goggle-eyed monster, which has no merit, so far as I know, unless it be its extreme ugliness.' They were more fortunate in their search for pottery and porcelain. In passing through one of the streets, a quaint grotesque-looking piece of earthenware attracted my eye, and long before my yakunin could wheel from the front, or come up from the rear embarrassed by the crowd, I had both priced and appropriated it and was already deep in the farther recesses of the store, with a perfect wealth of 'pallissy' pottery, with raised fishes, and fruit gathered about me, and for the most part priced when the obstructives arrived. This was the 'only harvest' Alcock was enabled to secure. He thought many of the objects 'unique in kind'. He also picked up some 'very perfect

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eggshell china.' The yakunin afterwards took them to a porcelain shop of their own selection, where, however, Alcock's party could find 'nothing worth bringing away, and the prices were some fifty per cent higher'. By this time they had perambulated half the city and worked their way to the vicinity of the theatre, where they were not sorry to exchange their walk for a seat. Alcock described the theatre: The play-house is a building of considerable area, and covered over by matting on a scaffold at a much greater height than they could venture, with the fear of earthquakes, to raise any roof of more solid materials or permanent character. The pit consists of a number of little square compartments, into which a party of six may find squatting or kneeling room. At the sides, a little raised, are what may be considered a series of boxes, separated from the pit by a raised platform extending the whole length of the building, from the entrance to the stage, along which the principal characters of the piece make their entrees, at the end opposite the stage. Alcock asked about the price of tickets but could get no precise answers. Their own party was charged twenty ichibu 'with the observation that "such was the price paid by the Dutch".' Alcock had tried to get permission to visit the theatre in Edo, but had been told that 'no person of rank can be seen in such places, and it would have been a breach of all rules of propriety for a Minister to visit a theatre.' In Osaka, however, it had been the established custom for the Dutch Commissioner to go to the theatre and accordingly Alcock and his party, which included Mr de Wit, his Dutch colleague, were allowed to attend the theatre in Osaka. Alcock seems to have enjoyed the Kabuki melodrama which they saw and was particularly struck by the revolving stage. Mr de Wit, however, was soon bored. At an 'intensely interesting crisis' in the play he 'resolutely got up, and without any regard to our feelings, declared it was long past breakfast time, and he could not wait a moment longer!' Alcock doubted whether their chief yakunin or the interpreter ever quite forgave Mr de Wit for making them miss the rest of the play. Alcock confessed that he was himself anxious to know, as a matter of national morality, how the whole would wind up'. Alcock went on: Refreshed by our breakfast at midday, we again returned in the afternoon to our exploratory shopping; but this time on horseback, and consequently much less successfully. The next day we devoted to the navigation of the thirteen rivers and

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canals which run through the city in all directions. Certainly this is the Venice of Japan. At least a hundred bridges span these various streams in every direction, many of them of enormous width and costly structure. The banks of the main river are lined for two or three miles with the residences of Daimyo, with broad flights of granite steps descending to the water's edge. And although they will bear not the faintest comparison with the noble palaces of Venice, and are merely long lines of wall, pierced at intervals with rather imposing gateways, yet their number and extent alone give an impression of wealth and importance. Thousands of boats filled with merchandise or passengers cover the broad surface of the waters; and every bridge was crowded to an alarming extent by the population, eager to see the foreigners. Later in the day Alcock and his party tried to reach some celebrated temple: In a moment of misplaced confidence in our treacherous escort, we were induced to abandon our boats at the hottest hour of the day believing the distance was short. It proved a long hour's hot and dusty journey; and when we got there, beyond a pile of buildings round a large courtyard, and a rather ruinous looking square pagoda in the centre, there seemed to be nothing to see, which we had not seen a hundred times before in exactly the same forms. I had indeed long given up looking at temples in Japan, for after seeing one or two, it is like looking at successive negroes — nothing but a familiarity of acquaintance, which you do not desire, can enable you to distinguish any difference between them. The suggestion was made that they might climb the pagoda to see the view, but the yakunin would not permit this. They first declared that the steps were unsafe and broken. When the party asked to see for themselves, they were told that the yakunin had no key and could not get one without an order from the Governor of Osaka! There must be something in the nature of Japanese officials which makes them find a certain pleasure in creating obstacles, besides the opportunity it gives of exercising their inventive faculty in alleging reasons which have no existence, and lastly carrying out the general policy of their Government, no doubt carefully inculcated, 'in all things be obstructive - the less the foreigners can do, or see, or know the better!' A rule which has the great advantage of being at once comprehensive and simple. The Capital of the Tycoon

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By the time they got back to their temple, if they had 'not exhausted the objects of interest in Osaka', they had very nearly exhausted their own powers. Alcock added: 'One gets wearied, too, with the neverending struggle against the systematic obstruction and deception practised by those ostensibly placed under our orders for a totally different purpose.' Alcock saw no reason why access to Osaka should be denied to the foreigner. He thought that to the inhabitants of Edo, 'the unwonted absence of two-sworded retainers lowering at us from every street and corner, made it appear a most desirable place of residence. . . . As regarded the development of a large and flourishing trade, this great centre, with its port of Hyogo, must be worth to foreign commerce more than all the other ports put together.' Audience with the last Shogun In May 1867 Sir Harry Parkes visited Osaka for an audience with the last Shogun, Tokugawa Keiki. He was accompanied by various members of his staff, including A. B. Mitford. Mitford thought that Osaka castle, where they were received by the Shogun, was 'a most stupendous monument of feudalism'. Its walls were 'built of great blocks of granite piled irregularly one above the other, without mortar in cyclopean pattern or rather no pattern, massive, wonder raising.' He thought it a noble structure, moated, very plain, and simple, featureless with the exception of the curved roofs of the great towers, its very simplicity adding to its grandeur, against a host armed with bows and spears, with perhaps a few matchlocks, an impregnable fortress. (The main buildings of the castle were burnt by the Shogun's followers after the battle of Fushimi outside Kyoto in the following January.) Sir Harry had three interviews with the Shogun during his stay. According to Mitford, the first was the most interesting: Accompanied by a number of dignitaries of the Shogun's government and escorted not only by our own men, seventeen splendid Lancers picked from the Metropolitan Police, and a company of the 9th Regiment, but also by a small army of Japanese soldiers, we rode to the castle in solemn procession. We were privileged to remain on horseback beyond the place where all Japanese, high and low, were required to dismount, and only left our horses at an inner gate, immediately opposite the enormous hall of the palace, which was, indeed, an inner castle surrounded, as was the outer one, by a moat. Here we were received by a number of officials of high rank, who led us to a waiting-room where tea and various dainties were served. . . .

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The interior of the palace was far more magnificent than anything that I had seen in Japan. The walls were covered with gold leaf, decorated with those glorious paintings of trees, flowers, birds and beasts, for which the Kano school of artists is famous. The hangings were the finest rush mats, suspended by gilt hooks from which hung huge silken tassels in tricolour — orange, red and black — the colours of the Zingari ribbon. The upper panels formed a frieze, deeply carved by some native Grinling Gibbons in the highest style of Japanese art, lavishly gilt and painted; every panel was different, no two alike. Peacocks and cranes strutting in all the pride of beauty, delicate groups of tenderrcoloured azaleas, bamboos bending their graceful feathers to the wind, pine trees with foliage almost black with age, were the subjects chosen. The uprights and cross-beams were of plain unpolished keyaki wood, fastened with metal bolts, capped with niello work. The ceiling was coffered in squares, carved, gilt and painted, and the divisions were richly lacquered in black and gold. Sumptuous as it all was there was nothing tawdry or glaring in this fever of splendour, for it was all two hundred years old, softened and subdued by the patina of time. . . . We were kept some little time in the first room talking with the various dignitaries, as is natural in every land, about the weather, and then we were led into the reception hall, where, in deference to European habits, a table was set out with eight seats, and at one end a richly lacquered chair for the Shogun. Here we were met by the Goroju [the Council of State, literally 'Elders'], and the members of the Second Council, and were told that the great Prince would immediately make his appearance. A few seconds afterwards two of the tall sliding screens which wall a Japanese room were slowly and noiselessly drawn aside, and that long-drawn 'hush' caused by the drawing-in of breath which announces the coming of a great personage thrilled all through the whole palace like the most delicate pianissimo of a huge orchestra; for a second or two the Tycoon, motionless as a statue, stood framed in the opening between the screens, an august and imposing figure. All the Japanese prostrated themselves, with the exception of the Goroju and the members of the Second Council, who, presumably, only were excused this reverence in order that there might be no difference between them and us. The great man stepped into the room, bowed, shook hands with Sir Harry Parkes 'in barbarum', as Tacitus puts it, and we all sat down - four Japanese on one side of the table, Sir Harry, Mr Locock, Mr Satow and myself on the other. Then the

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Shogun rose very gracefully and asked after the health of Queen Victoria. This was responded to by Sir Harry standing and inquiring after the Mikado. He then led the conversation into business questions. . . . After about an hour spent in very friendly conversation the Shogun asked to see our escort, who were waiting in an inner court of the palace. They showed him lance and sword exercise, with which he seemed highly delighted, but what interested him the most was the size of our horses, Gulf Arabs, rather a goodlooking lot which we had imported from India, and he, as a horse-lover, commented a good deal upon their superiority to the Japanese native ponies, which certainly are about as mean a breed of the genus horse as exists anywhere. The Shogun had invited us to stay for dinner. . . . The great man presided, and we were waited upon by the Ministers of Foreign Affairs and the pages of honour. In the middle of dinner the Shogun rose and proposed the Queen's health, a compliment till then absolutely unknown in the Land of Sunrise, and therefore all the more indicative of the desire to please. Sir Harry responded with a toast in honour of our host. After dinner we adjourned into an inner room where the Shogun gave each of us a present of two pieces of crape, and a pipe and tobacco-pouch of silk embroidered by the ladies of the palace. But the prettiest compliment, so gracefully offered, was yet to come. The room in which we were was hung round with a number of portraits of poets and poetesses which had been presented to one of the Tokugawa Shoguns by some Daimyo about two hundred years before. We were looking at these with no little curiosity when the Tycoon insisted on having one of them taken down and presenting it to Sir Harry in memory of his visit. Sir Harry naturally demurred at accepting it, pointing out what a pity it would be break the set; but the Prince would take no denial, saying that 'when he looked on the vacant space it would give him pleasure to think that the picture that had once filled it was in the possession of the British Minister'. Could courtesy find a higher expression? We remained at the palace till past nine o'clock and it was a satisfaction to hear next day that the occasion of his first introduction to Englishmen had afforded our princely host as much pleasure as it had given us. Mitford's Japan Dr William Willis also left an account of the interview in his letter of 27 April 1867. He thought the Japanese court dress 'ludicrous':

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trousers a yard too long for the wearer, his leg altogether swathed and any attempt to walk must be at serious risk of falling, the hats stuck on the very top of their heads strapped on. One would imagine it was a pantomime not a court. There was of course the usual Eastern glitter about all the things. The Tycoon was arrayed gorgeously and set on a very costly-looking seat which we may call the throne. Willis considered the Shogun Very good-looking for a Japanese. He is rather small of stature but has a good expressive face and I imagine has average ability. Of course the tendency is to overestimate such people and perhaps the impression here is too favourable to his ability.' When Willis was presented, the Tycoon made a slight bow of acknowledgment. He spoke 'a word of compliment' but Willis was not invited to the subsequent dinner; he felt a little hurt at being left out. Willis also wrote that Sir Harry Parkes took a guard of fifty men of the battalion stationed at Yokohama and really they are so well and able-bodied compared with the Japanese troops. The Tycoon afterwards saw them drill and was much pleased with their appearance. And I believe he has an exalted idea of English troops. We had only some tea and cigars at the reception. We all mustered such uniforms as we could, but I confess we did not look very grand. Sir Harry's clothes were burnt in the destruction of his house by fire last January and my dress was the old Inspector's uniform I brought out with me with a row of brass buttons gilt. Dr Willis in Japan According to Ernest Satow, The British Legation occupied four spacious temples or monasteries at the further end of a street called Tera-machi, the other representatives being accommodated in perhaps somewhat inferior buildings nearer to its entrance. But the British Minister had taken the trouble to send down two of his staff beforehand to make all the arrangements, while the others were ready to be contented with what was provided for them by the Japanese Government. Mitford, Wirgman and I occupied one end of a temple (Cho-hoji) overlooking the city, while at the other end were Sir Harry's 'office' and the temporary chancery. The whole mission messed together in the temple on the other side of the street, where Sir Harry and Lady Parkes had their abode. Next door was a temple given up to the officers of the guard and two student interpreters, and the fourth was set apart for guests. I

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had a charming set of rooms on three floors. The bottom was occupied by the Japanese writers and my retainers, the centre floor, consisting of two rooms, served as a bedroom and 'office', and the top was a sort of parlour where I received guests, only twelve feet by nine, but large enough to accommodate a dozen persons, as it did not contain a single piece of furniture. A Diplomat in Japan Neither Willis nor Mitford were impressed by Osaka as a city. Willis commented: Osaka is the most uninteresting city in the world. It is placed on a perfectly level plain, the streets run at right angles, the houses are dingy and all of the same height. There are no public buildings to break the monotony. The population is, I believe, according to Japanese census about 400,000. The great feature of the place is canals by which all traffic is performed, and any amount of bridges. The people appear moderately well to do but it is all moonshine, I think, about its being a wealthy place. These Eastern places are all over-estimated by greedy merchants and meddling officials. I fancy if we can sell very cheap calicoes so as to undersell home produce we will have a certain import trade here and doubtless tea will be found in some quantity, but the importance of Osaka will not be great. Dr Willis in Japan For his part, Mitford said in a letter to his father: There can be nothing more uninteresting than a Japanese town. There is neither colour nor architecture, and Osaka is certainly almost exceptionally ugly, being entirely commercial and industrial. Edo being the military capital is far gayer, but even there one feels the want of colours and variety. . . , Mitford's Japan Satow was irked 'by the solid wooden gates' at the end of the street by their temple. The guards ensured that they could not get out into the city without an escort. The guard had instructions to follow us wherever we went. This was very irksome to Mitford and myself until we found out a gap in the wall which surrounded one of the temples, and from that time we used to make nocturnal excursions to all parts of the town. . . . The sense of a certain peril to be encountered, combined with a sort of truant schoolboy feeling, rendered these explorations into the night life of Japan very enjoyable. On one occasion young Matsune joined us on an expedition to

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the quarter occupied by singing and dancing girls; it was a moonlight night, and the chance of detection by the guard was so much the greater. After getting through our gap, we doubled back, and passing behind the legations, got into a lower street running parallel to that in which we lived, where we ran along for some distance, keeping close in the shadow of the houses, then darted into another street at right angles, turned to the right again until we felt sure of having baffled any possible pursuers, after which we walked on quietly, and crossing one of the long bridges over the river, found ourselves at our destination. A room had been taken in Matsune's name, and some of the bepowdered and berouged girls were awaiting the arrival of the Japanese party they had expected to meet, when to their surprise and horror three Europeans were ushered into their midst. We were at that time objects of more alarm than interest to the women of Osaka. The fair damsels starting up with a scream fairly ran away, and no assurances from our friend would induce them to return. The keeper of the house besought us to leave, as a crowd might collect, and if there was any disturbance he would get into trouble, and so we had to submit to our disappointment. But even the slight glimpse we had of the native beauties seemed to compensate for the risk run, for here in Osaka no foreigner had ever been admitted to the quarter. On another occasion, when we were accompanied by some of the guard, we had better success, and enjoyed the society of some geisha for several hours, the government officials having given their consent and even interfered, I believe, on our behalf. To Satow everything was new and delightful in Osaka. Politics and diplomacy afforded unceasing interest and excitement, the streets, shops, theatres and temples were full of life and character of a kind thoroughly distinct from what we were accustomed to in Edo and Yokohama, and the difference of dialect and costume imparted additional piquancy to the women. A Diplomat in Japan Satow concluded that during the whole five weeks they spent in Osaka they did not have a single dull day. There was always something to do in the intervals of our official work, visits to temples and theatres, tea-drinking, according to the elaborate ceremonial of the cha-no-yu, an excursion to the large commercial town of Sakai. . . .'

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1867-8 Defeat of the Shogun's forces and resignation Mitford and Satow were back in Osaka in December 1867, preparatory to the opening of the city to trade. There they found that the city was in an uproar of joy and excitement. It appeared that all this was in honour of a miraculous shower which had recently taken place of slips of paper bearing the titles of the Gods of Ise - the ancestral shrine of Old Japan and the chief place of the Shinto cult. Thousands and thousands of happy fanatics were dancing along the streets dressed in holiday garb of red and blue crape and carrying red lanterns on their heads, shouting till they must have been hoarse, 'lija nai ka, lija nai ka! [How delightful, how delightful!]. The houses were decorated with many-coloured cakes, oranges, silken bags, emblematic ropes of straw such as are hung before the Shinto shrines, and a profusion of flowers. It was a weird and wonderful sight, such as, maybe, will never be seen again. Mitford's Japan On 7 January 1868 the visitors learnt that the Tycoon had left Kyoto. Satow concluded that 'all was over with the Tycoon'. That afternoon Satow and Mitford 'saw wonderful groups of men clad in armour'. These were men of the Tycoon's forces retiring from Kyoto. A more extravagantly weird picture it would be difficult to imagine. There were some infantry armed with European rifles, but there were also warriors clad in the old armour of the country carrying spears, bows and arrows, falchions, curiously shaped, with sword and dirk, who looked as if they had stepped out of some old pictures of the Gempei wars in the Middle Ages. Their jimbaoris, not unlike heralds' tabards, were as manycoloured as Joseph's coat. Hideous masks of lacquer and iron, fringed with portentous whiskers and moustachios, crested helmets with wigs, from which long streamers of horsehair floated to their waists, might strike terror into any enemy, they looked like hobgoblins of a nightmare. Soon a troop of horsemen appeared. The Japanese all prostrated themselves and bent their heads in awe. In the midst of the troop was the fallen Prince. . . . The Prince himself seemed worn and dejected, looking neither to the right, nor to the left, his head wrapped in a black cloth, taking notice of nothing. The situation continued to deteriorate. On 26 January Mitford recorded in a letter to his father that he had just returned from a walk through the city of Osaka. It presented 'a hideous aspect. Houses had

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been burnt. The shops were shut and barred and many people are packing up their goods and flying into the country.' On 27 January the sky was 'lurid with fire in the direction of Kyoto' and they heard that there had been fighting between the Shogun's forces and the Daimyo supporting an Imperial Restoration at Fushimi; the Shogun's forces had been defeated. On the 30th they learnt that the Shogun could no longer protect the foreign diplomats who had come to Osaka for the opening of the port. On 31 January the Shogun, who had retired to the castle in Osaka, escaped in disguise on board the United States ship Iroquois. On 2 February the castle of Osaka was set on fire 'with all its glories of art'. The British force was suffering from shortage of food and according to Mitford from scurvy. They decided to retire to Hyogo. 1868 Presentation of credentials to the Emperor For the British the next major event in Osaka was the presentation of credentials by Sir Harry Parkes to the Emperor (Mutsuhito, generally known by his era name of Meiji) in Osaka on 22 May 1868. Satow records that Parkes offered him the loan 'of a sort of staff jacket of blue serge fastened in front with frogs, and an old pair of trousers with gold lace down the sides,' but Satow put these away in a cupboard and went to court in plain evening-dress. The Minister's procession consisted of a hundred marines from HMS Rodney and the same number from HMS Ocean, 'twelve palanquins in which such of us rode as had legs flexible enough, four of the legation escort on foot, and two bodies of Japanese troops who preceded and followed us.' They arrived punctually at one o'clock at the Nishi Honganji temple in Osaka where the audience was due to take place. They were ushered into an ante-chamber which was merely a part of the hall of audience divided off by screens. Down the middle ran a long table covered with cloth of gold, about the only piece of splendour in the place; on one side of this we took our seats, the Japanese Ministers for Foreign Affairs on the other. Tea and sweetmeats piled on wooden trays were brought in for our refection, and we had to wait half an hour before the chief of the ministry entered the room and made the polite speeches necessary on such an occasion.' They were then ushered into the throne room. On a dais at the extreme end sat the Mikado, under a canopy supported by black-lacquered poles, and with the blinds rolled up as high as was possible. We advanced up the room in double column, the one on the right headed by the Admiral and composed of naval officers, the other headed by the Minister, and consisting of the legation staff. Everyone made three bows, first

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on advancing into the middle of the room, the second at the foot of the dais, the third on mounting the dais, which was large enough to afford place for us all. The Mikado rose and stood under the canopy from the moment that we began to bow. The principal Minister for Foreign Affairs and one other great personage knelt, one on each side of the throne. In front of the throne on each side, stood a small wooden image of a lion. . . . Behind the throne a crowd of courtiers were ranged in a double row, wearing little black paper caps and gorgeous brocade robes of various hues. As the Mikado stood up, the upper part of his face, including the eyes, became hidden from view, but I saw the whole of it whenever he moved. His complexion was white, perhaps artificially so rendered, his mouth badly formed, what a doctor would call prognathous, but the general contour was good. His eyebrows were shaven off, and painted in an inch higher up. His costume consisted of a long black loose cape hanging backwards, a white upper garment or mantle and voluminous purple trousers. The proceedings were strictly formal. Sir Harry recited his brief address which he had got by heart. A translation was read to the Mikado and Sir Harry put the Queen's letter into the hand of the Mikado, who evidently felt bashful or timid, and had to be assisted by Yamashina no Miya; his part was to receive it from the Mikado. Then His Majesty forgot his speech, but catching a word from the personage on his left managed to get out the first sentence, whereupon Ito read out the translation of the whole that had been prepared beforehand. After Sir Harry had presented the members of his suite and the Admiral had presented his officers, the Mikado expressed the hope that all was well with the squadron. The British then retired backwards, bowing. They later attended a Japanese banquet 'cooked as nearly in European fashion' as could be managed. On the following day the Queen's birthday was celebrated on board HMS Rodney. Many of the guests were intelligent and well-behaved, but the Prince of Choshu, who insisted on my sitting next to him, behaved like a great baby, and drank more champagne than was good for him. . . . The son of the Mikado's maternal uncle was possessed with a huge desire to see a European cat, while another great man wanted to get sight of a negro, and we had great difficulty in satisfying their wishes.

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The principal Minister for Foreign Affairs, who had of course to be saluted, desired that as little powder as possible should be used, because the sound of a violent explosion hurt his ears. One of the great attractions was the Rodney's b^riH, which played a great deal of noisy music for the benefit of the Admiral's guests, and the bandmaster of the Ocean gained great applause by composing a march and a Japanese national anthem, which he dedicated to the Mikado. A Diplomat in Japan Mitford had already had some experience of the Prince of Choshu's liking for champagne. He recorded ip a letter of 20 April 1868 that while he was on board the French ship Dupleix with his friend, Captain du Petit Thouars, some Japanese princes came on board and the Prince of Choshu 'took a regular header into the champagne, and being originally a cretin, almost made a fool of himself.' Mitford was left behind in Osaka to hold the fort there when Sir Harry Parkes returned to Yokohama after seeing the Emperor in Kyoto in March 1868 (see below, pp 185-8) and remained there until August. He lived in a long, narrow Japanese room 'innocent of furniture other than two handsome screens . . . which shut off my bedless sleeping place'. His verandah opened on to 'a slip of a garden not much larger than a good-sized dining-table - a little gem in its way'. One day as he was sitting at work, he saw 'a huge otter come sneaking into my little paradise. I cocked my Spencer rifle — the friend that I always kept at hand' but the otter heard the click and bolted before Mitford could get a shot at him. Mitford commented: 'It was a strange invasion in a city of some half million of souls!' In his letter of 20 April 1868 Mitford wrote that the Mikado had actually been persuaded to go down the river at Osaka to inspect the Japanese ships in the harbour. 'He did not venture on the sea, however, but inspected the ships-from the fort where a grandstand had been erected for him. As the sea was like glass he must have been reassured and perhaps next time will do a little more than merely look on from the shore.' Mitford commented that 'the town of Osaka is very quiet and the Mikado's presence makes very little difference. The Japanese have asked foreigners not to go within a certain distance of the precincts of the court and that is all.' In a despatch to Sir Harry Parkes dated 6 May 1868 Mitford reported on the education of the Mikado. The Mikado had seen some troops of different Daimyo being 'put through a number of evolutions'. 'Exhibitions of fencing and horsemanship have also taken place, and in time it is to be hoped that the Mikado will be encouraged so far as himself to mount a horse'. The Mikado returned to Kyoto in early June,

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At 4 a.m. the streets were alive with the crowds of pedestrians coming from all quarters of the city, some on foot, others in the neat, clean, little pleasure-boats that ply up and down the canals and rivers. Troops of armed samurai were pouring out of the yashiki of their respective princes, and the hoarse voices of the samurai were soon heard ordering the people to descend to the earth and keep themselves silent, with their heads bent downward. [The dresses of the Mikado's host] represented all the colours of the rainbow. The hats alone were as diverse as the nations of the earth. Some wore black cone-shaped wooden basins, some a Chinese winter felt hat, others glazed painted cotton, the shape of which might compare with an umbrella whose ribs were broken, some had a taste for Western fashions, some had French caps, others the British naval style. Amongst them were also to be seen the Australian digger's felt slouch, and some had a fancy for the lion's mane, or the skin of the grizzly bear. There were ponderous iron helmets, and light bamboo and straw. It may be imagined, with such a variety of head-dress, how varied their nether costume was. The Japan Gazette 9 June 1868 The writer noted 'a red silk flag, with the Mikado's emblem upon it, slowly advancing, carried erect, high in the air, by the gigantic wrestlers of His Majesty, surrounded by a number of samurai and attendants, all wearing green-coloured trousers.' After twenty mounted court nobles and ten or twelve on foot came 'a small, plain, white-wood (probably satin-wood) chair, with two heavy poles a-top, and a Venetian window on either side. It was borne by four sturdy bearers, and inside sat the Mikado. We saw his form, but can say no more. A human head and shoulders only met our gaze.' The foreign settlement The area allotted for the foreign settlement after the city was opened for trade, was known as Kawaguchi. It lay just outside the city proper and was bounded on three sides by water. In the marshes nearby there were, according to Harold Williams, plenty of wild duck. Williams adds that 'for those not interested in hunting one of the favourite Sunday excursions was a walk to the famous nursery gardens at the top of Dotonbori, which is now the amusement and night centre of Osaka' (Tales of the Foreign Settlements in Japan). W. J. Alt was one of the first foreign merchants to reside in Osaka. Mrs Alt recorded that they went to live there in 1868. She found her stay in Osaka the most unpleasant part of her seven years in Japan. They lived in a Japanese house, a fair-sized one, but very cold. They

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put in glass windows in place of the paper screens and built a brick fireplace. This was constructed largely by Alt himself as 'the people understood neither chimneys nor bricks.' Alt had considerable dealings with the Government and with various Daimyo. Large contracts were entered into and one day one of the Daimyo sent from his province the sum of money in solid silver ichibu to pay for a contract. I think my husband did not expect so prompt a payment, nor did he expect it in that form. However, the money was there and had to be received. Osaka was rather a lawless place with many rogues about and the knowledge that these people might be aware of what was happening made it necessary to take precautions against any attack from some of the cleverest criminals in the country. The boxes of silver ichibu were carried in by two coolies at a time and were packed into the entrance well-like recess, which was gradually filled up until it was level with the floor of the rest of the house. It was night time when this was done and it was a picturesque sight by the dim lantern light seeing these half-naked men. . . . When all had been carried in and the gates were shut and the wooden shutters carefully closed, the native staff of the business establishment collected their sleeping-mats and quilts which were spread on the top of the boxes of coins, and there they slept the night while the Englishmen took as much rest as they could in their anxiety. It was annoying that the little steamer that plied between Osaka and Hyogo, the port about thirty miles off, was for some reason not running. My husband felt that another night like the last should be avoided, so he decided to charter a small Japanese junk with its one large square sail . . . and to go with the money himself to Hyogo and see it into the Bank. . . . We set sail, the only time I have ever travelled in a junk. It was a fair wind and we went along at a great rate after we had got out of the big river on which Osaka is built. Our troubles were not over - or were nearly over for ever! For owing to a bad look-out we were very nearly run into by a much larger junk which, had it struck us in our loaded condition, would have speedily sunk us. I remember the tenseness of that moment when we discovered our danger, only just in time to avert a calamity. Even the Japanese sailors turned a ghastly hue. I could see the great square sail of the large junk loom past us, almost touching us. We soon after got to Hyogo, and got rid of our responsibility. 'Some Memories'

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Osaka Port at the beginning of the Meiji period In December 1868 Richard Brunton, the British engineer who had been employed by the Japanese Government to establish a lighthouse system, visited Osaka and at the request of Sir Harry Parkes called on the Governor of Osaka, Godai Tomoatsu, who came from Satsuma and was one of the new leaders. Parkes wanted Brunton to investigate what could be done to deal with the sand bar which made the river Yodo unnavigable for any but small flat-bottomed barges. Godai, Brunton recorded, displayed great anxiety to have the river clear for the passage of ships, but the local Japanese authorities had a scheme of their own. Brunton thought that the Japanese scheme was quite impracticable and took soundings of his own. He then formulated a proposal which before leaving Osaka he handed to Godai. Parkes eventually heard that Brunton's scheme was being executed. Because of the importance of the scheme it was arranged that Blundell, one of Brunton's assistants, should visit Osaka and report. [He] found that considerable progress had been made with the new channel proposed by me, but that the excavated earth, instead of being used to form a bank on each side as I had intended, was being carried a long distance away by a tramway, the rails and rolling stock for which had been purchased from an enterprising English merchant for the respectable sum of $50,000. At the scene of operations great excitement was apparent when the object of Mr BlundelPs visit was made known. Warned by a mob of labourers not to approach, he was, on retiring, treated to a fusillade of stones and narrowly escaped serious injury. 'Pioneer Engineering in Japan' The authorities apparently spent $250,000 'upon the attempt to carry out on their own initiative a project designed for execution by Western engineers. The whole enterprise was abandoned' and Osaka port was not developed until much later. The final decades of the century and the hotel for foreigners When E.G. Holtham visited Osaka in 1873 his party fetched up in the French hotel. 'The landlord of this establishment did not show, except by his substitute, a Chinese steward, who gave us some dinner, as to which I/only remember that it was very bad, or there would not have beeii enough of it.' Then we started in search of the Osaka club, traversing the settlement two or three times (which did not involve any great amount of pedestrianism) before we hit upon the right place. So far as we could judge by the uncertain light of the oil lamps,

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Kawaguchi appeared to consist chiefly of new roads and vacant lots, the houses that were then in existence having all their back premises in front, and no fronts anywhere. However, we made ourselves free of the club, by the simple process of putting our cards in the rack, and fell to billiards. One member of the club looked in at the door, in the course of the evening, "but he didn't stop and we soon tired of our game, and returned to the hotel, to find sound sleep in our barely furnished chambers. Eight Years in Japan Henry Faulds who visited Osaka somewhat later recorded another visit to the hotel! 'After roaming about the endless half-dead-andalive streets we found a French hotel and had dinner, which combined most of the worst features of Japanese systems of cookery, and a splendid cup of coffee which almost atoned for all that had gone before.' Faulds noted that few foreigners lived in Osaka and that these were chiefly either missionaries or government employees. When Rudyard Kipling came on a visit in 1889 he declared that there was but one hotel for the Englishman in Osaka - Jutei's: Here the views of two civilizations collide and the result is awful. The building is altogether Japanese; wood and tile and sliding screen from top to bottom; but the fitments are mixed. My room, for instance, held a tokonoma, made of the polished black stem of a palm and delicate woodwork, framing a scroll picture representing storks. But on the floor over the white mats lay a Brussels carpet that made the indignant toes tingle. From the back verandah one overhung the river which ran straight as an arrow between two lines of houses. They have cabinetmakers in Japan to fit the rivers to the towns. From my verandah I could see three bridges — one a hideous lattice-girder arrangement — and part of a fourth. We were on an island and owned a water-gate if we wanted to take a boat. Like other tourists before and after, Kipling inevitably visited the castle and was impressed. He thought that the builders had used the granite stones 'like mud'. There was no attempt at binding, but there was no fault in the jointing.' It was a rainy day: The stones had been split and bronzed in places, and the cleavage was the cleavage of fire. Evil must it have been for the armies that led the assault on these monstrous walls. Castles in India I know, and the forts of great Emperors I had seen, but neither Akbar in the north, nor Scindia in the south, had built after this fashion - without ornament, without colour, but with a single^ eye to savage strength and the utmost purity of line.

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Perhaps the fort would have looked less forbidding in sunlight. The grey, rain-laden atmosphere through which I saw it suited its spirit. The barracks of the garrison, the commandant's very dainty house, a peach-garden, and two deer were foreign to the place. They should have peopled it with giants from the mountains. From Sea to Sea and Other Sketches Major Henry Knollys, who had come to Osaka a few years earlier, had a rather different view: This large, populous city is in some respects a parallel to Birmingham, with its engineering manufactures and its rapid growth of numbers and sudden start into importance, thronged streets, busy commerce, comparatively substantial buildings, and clean, well-paved, wide thoroughfares. Several large spaces are prettily laid out with gardens, bearing a faint resemblance to our public squares, and the general aspect of which is much set off by the broad but shallow river Yodo-gawa running through the midst, spanned by numerous light, picturesque wooden bridges. Scarcely a horse, cart, or carriage is to be seen, all transport being by man power. I search in vain for any European face. Only wayfarers like myself are ever seen here, and accordingly I am regarded with curiosity, in which, however, incivility has no share. Sketches of Life in Japan By 1876 not a single British firm remained in Japan. Gilbert Watson was in Osaka at the beginning of this century and with two friends also stayed at Jutei's hotel. Jutei was apparently there to greet them! 'Wishing for the honourable inspection of bedroom?' questioned Jutei, with a lavish use of the 'invisible soap'. They followed him upstairs. 'Ah! most beautiful compartment!' he exclaimed in awestruck tones, throwing open the first door. 'Quite English', he went on, pointing to the bed. We felt relieved when, after having worked himself into ecstasies over every article of furniture in the three rooms, he stole noiselessly away. From the window of their bedrooms they overlooked the broad river Yodo: The noble stream flowed immediately below us, the back of the hotel forming part of the wall of buildings which kept it within bounds. Its opposite bank, a long line of irregular houses, stretched away in a vanishing perspective as far as the eye could

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reach. The curious architectural eccentricities which I have dignified by the name of 'houses' made up as fantastic a medley of oddities as it is possible to imagine. Some of them were propped on stakes, which just saved them from a watery grave; others were perched upon the backs of useful relatives; here a young upstart smiled self-consciously, as if aware of his freshlypainted face; there a time-worn building drew its moss garment around it, its venerable walls and antiquated roof tottering to decay. The colouring of these humble homes was very beautiful. Sombre blacks mingled with rich vandyke browns; dull, mossy greens blended with deep shades of red; palest yellows harmonized softly with delicate shades of silver. The broad waterway recalled Venice, only here there was more life and movement, more of an aquatic existence than is to be found on the Venetian canals. Osaka, like Canton and many another water-city, has a large floating population which passes its entire life upon the water. The free gipsy life must be not without its charms for these nomadic children of the Yodo. Many of the boats were anchored side by side. We could see their flat-hatted owners doing little jobs on board, preparing meals, fishing, or bartering with their neighbours. Now and then a house-boat would float past, the four rowers who composed its crew chanting a weird refrain which came clearly to us over the surface of the water. The tiny sampans were as numerous as flies on a summer's evening, and sculled in and out between the bigger craft with wonderful skill, steered, as it appeared to us, with an almost involuntary movement of the long, dripping oar. Three Rolling Stones in Japan

Kobe/Hyogo The port of Hyogo was due to be opened from 1 January 1863, but, as a result of the unsettled state of Japan in the 1860s and representations from the Bakufu, the opening of the port was postponed until 1 January 1868. The port actually chosen for foreign residence was at a spot just around the bay from the town of Hyogo, and came to be called Kobe. Today Kobe and Hyogo are one large city and Kobe, as the city is now called, is the capital of Hyogo prefecture. After a difficult start, Kobe became the second most important Treaty port, in terms of trade and resident foreign community, after Yokohama. As Yokohama became the port for Tokyo, so Kobe became the port for the trade of Osaka. In the nineteenth century Tokyo and Osaka remained difficult if not impossible for ships with any large draught. The foreign community in Kobe had a substantial majority of British merchants. They established their own municipal council which was efficient in providing such services as gas street-lighting. Solid western-style houses were built for the community which naturally had its own club. The Kobe club was indeed famous for having the longest bar in the Far East. The community also pursued with zest the athletic pursuits favoured by British colonials! The first pony race, for instance, was held on Christmas Day 1868, a race club was soon formed and a permanent race-course established. The first cricket match had to wait until October 1869. Considering the size of the community, I have found relatively few contemporary accounts of Kobe and the life of the community in comparison with the comparative wealth of material about life in Yokohama. 1861 Visit by Rutherford Alcock One of the first British visitors to Hyogo was Rutherford Alcock. He came in the summer of 1861, on his way to Osaka, to see for himself the nature of the port as the British were being pressed to postpone its opening. He also wanted to discover the real state of popular feeling, 'so constantly referred to as the great obstacle to all progress'. He noted that Hyogo, the port for Osaka, was a town 'of some extent, containing perhaps 20,000 inhabitants, and pleasantly situated along the edge of a sandy shore, with a range of wooded hills and mountains rising with gentle slope from 1,000 to 2,000 feet behind.' 157

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Alcock was first involved in a 'diplomatic joust' with one of the Governors of Foreign Affairs who had come to try to dissuade him and Mr de Wit, his Dutch colleague, from visiting Kyoto on their way to Edo. In view of the fears expressed for their safety, Alcock and his companion agreed to avoid the city. Alcock then proceeded to take a survey of Hyogo. Near to their honjin [lodging-place], there was a beach gradually rising from the water which would, he thought, 'afford a fine site for any future settlement'. As we pursued our route, I found all the shops shut, and the population either hid away in their houses, or confined to the streets which lay out of our road, It'required a very vigorous remonstrance to put a stop to this singular mode of showing a town. First, it was for our protection; then it was a mistake which would not occur in future; and at last, driven from all their positions, the orders were rescinded, the shops opened, and the people were allowed to attend to their business. Hyogo seems chiefly devoted to the making of sake - large distilleries and warehouses line the seashore, all dedicated to this object. One of the former we visited, but found nothing save the machinery of empty barrels, etc.... We passed through the town skirting the bay, on the shores of which were many slips for building large-class junks and boats, and a considerable number of both were on the stocks. Having traversed the town in its length, we turned by the banks of what was once a wide river, but chiefly remarkable now for the abundance of sand and gravel which filled its channel high above the level of the town, and the absence of water. We returned home through the main street, but without seeing anything in the shops of much interest or novelty. The Capital of the Tycoon 1867-8 Opening of the Port and the Bizen Incident One of the first British officials in the new settlement was W. G. Aston. He reported to Sir Harry Parkes, the British Minister, on 4 December 1867 that the Japanese had been working hard to get things ready for the official opening on 1 January 1868. Mitford described the scene when the diplomatic corps descended on Kobe at the end of January 1868: The Ministers were lodged in the old Custom House, Satow in an outbuilding, I in a shanty that might best be described as a Hiogesque version of a fifth-rate Margate lodging house.. At any rate we had roofs over our heads, we had fresh food and our good friend, Herr von Brandt [the Prussian Minister], had unearthed a

The Treaty ports: Kobe/Hyogo 159 bottle of Curagoa, over which the diplomatic body made merry. He had already triumphed over the hungry colleagues in Osaka by the acquisition of a pig; but that led to difficulties, as the priests of the temple in which he was lodged stoutly objected to the slaying of the unclean beast - not on account of its uncleanness, but on account of its being a beast and therefore under the protection of Buddhistic law. The difficulties were overcome by a compromise whereby the place of execution was fixed in a vegetable garden adjoining a remote corner of the temple grounds. At Kobe the Legation soon faced new dangers. On 4 February 1868 there was a serious clash between the foreigners and members of the Bizen clan passing through the settlement on their way home from Nishinomiya. Sir Harry Parkes, in his despatch of 15 February 1868, noted: The only buildings at present standing on the site are the Custom house, bonded warehouse, and the British Consulate, all of which are situated near the water side, at the south-eastern corner of the site. The town of Kobe flanks the site on the western side, and the main street of that town opens on to the settlement ground at the northwest corner and skirts part of the northern side of the town. On the 4th instant, at about 2.30 p.m. I happened to be walking near the latter corner of the Settlement, in company with Captain Stanhope, the senior Naval Officer, and Lieutenant Bradshaw, commanding the Legation guard, when Joseph Colins, a British subject, ran up to inform me that he had been struck by a soldier of a Daimyo's train, the head of which we could see coming down the street at a distance of about sixty yards. Colins was still describing to me what had occurred when the train halted, and I saw that several of the spearmen, who were twenty or thirty files from the head of the column, brought their spears to the charge, as if they were attacking someone in the street. Shouts and confusion immediately followed, and I observed the men of the column spread themselves out in skirmishing order on the Settlement ground, and commence to fire upon every foreigner whom they happened to see there including myself and the officers who were with me. They fired very quickly as they were armed with breechloading rifles. As the settlement ground afforded no shelter, the foreigners who were thus attacked could only seek safety by endeavouring to gain the cover of the Custom house and other buildings at the opposite corner of the square, and to do this they had to cross the large open space under the fire of their assailants.

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On seeing that the alarm was then given, the Daimyo's men reformed, and continued their way along the northern side of the square, until they left the settlement by the Osaka road. The guards of the English, French and American Legations soon followed in pursuit, but by different tracks. . . . They were pursued for some distance, but as they abandoned their baggage and ran, they soon made good their escape in the thick cover which the hills afforded them. Mitford's Japan The japan Times Overland Mail in Yokohama reported on 29 January 1868: The latest intelligence from the new port is depressing in the extreme. Death has been busy among high and low, danger from political strife hovers near and commerce cannot struggle into life among the numberless disadvantages which retard her birth. . . . The meat of course comes from Yokohama. . . . The trouble about houses and house rents, however, still continues. Extraordinary prices are still asked for sheds of the meanest description and the position of some representatives of the leading firms of Yokohama is positively ludicrous. One such writes to a personal friend here: 'I have to work under great difficulty as my office is in the kitchen of a Japanese tea-house, and open to the street so that a crowd is constantly round the door watching me and making disparaging remarks.' No accommodation is yet provided for goods and the merchandise which has already been landed lies in a roofless godown, hereafter to be a bonded warehouse and protected from falling rain only by temporary expedients. Another correspondent wrote: Hyogo is two miles distant from where foreigners will be allowed to reside. All Japanese merchants of any standing or wealth reside in Hyogo, so that any person who wishes to have any conversation with this class has to walk to Hyogo. This is not all - when he is about a mile on the road, if he chances to look back he finds a Japanese officer (spy) following him, wherever he may go, during which time if he happens to talk to a Japanese, this spy comes up and quietly listens to the conversation. A despatch to the Japan Times Overland Mail two weeks later read: . . . Every day shows us more clearly the disadvantages of the position chosen for the settlement and within the last few days we have had proof that even the enormous sum of money said

The Treaty ports: Kobe/Hyogo 161 to have been expended upon it has been literally thrown away. 36 hours' rain has converted one third of it into a swamp and shows that the fall of land, instead of being towards the sea, leads inland towards the hills which will of course render drainage most difficult and expensive. No one who sees the place can deny that in placing the foreign settlement at Kobe the least eligible site has been chosen. . . . Here according to treaty we are compelled to settle. . . . Many are of the opinion that the land is not worth the rent they have to pay for it. Three months later a corrrespondent wrote: Questions are being asked as to why Kobe should have been selected as the port of Osaka instead of the more convenient Sakai. . . . Kobe has been weighed and found wanting. The Concession is a swamp and a quicksand knee deep with water in the rainy season, and a scorched dusty plain under the summer sun. Another wrote: The foreign concession, or the 'Sand Path', 'Swamp' or 'Desert', as the residents appropriately term it, remains an incubus upon the hands of the officials and those who planned it. Quoted by Harold Williams in Tales of the Foreign Settlements in Japan Land sales 1868-9 In the first few months after the opening of the port the merchants had to live in temples or lease Japanese houses, godowns, sake breweries, or warehouses at high rents, but by September 1868 the land designated for the foreign settlement at Kobe had been raised above sea level, drained, and made ready for building. Lots in Kobe were first sold at the Customs House in an auction on 10 September 1868. Two more sales followed on 1 June 1869 and 16 May 1870. Lots were first sold in the Osaka settlement on 15 September 1868. Grace Fox comments: 'Prices were higher than at Kobe because foreigners thought Osaka would be the greater centre of trade'. Lot no 1 in Kobe was bought by the firm of Aspinall, Cornes which still survives under the name Cornes & Company. After the third land sale, in which all the remaining lots were disposed of, the British owned nearly half of the settlement. The site for the Kobe settlement was based on plans drawn up by a British civil engineer called Hart. During the rainy season the area seemed like a swamp and during the dry period like a desert. When the first land sales took place the auctioneer was an American. The

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Hyogo News reported that 'a good collation had been prepared by the Governor's orders and during the sale, and at its close, the sound of champagne corks popping proved that the invigorating beverage was appreciated.' There was a total of 126 lots in the three sales. The cheapest lots were those nearest the native town of Hyogo, where an evil-smelling drain was located. This is now the neighbourhood of Motomachi and the Daimaru Department Store! The most expensive lots were in the neighbourhood of the Custom House. In an article for Spotlight, the magazine of the Kobe club, December 1983, Harold Williams commented that many of the buyers in subsequent years regretted having bid so high for the land, and the lots consequently frequently changed hands. At one time, during a depression, some owners did not reckon the land was worth even the taxes which were due on it, and some owners, being unable to find buyers, even disposed of their land by selling lottery tickets in which the land was given as the prize. Kobe to Osaka

Communication between Kobe and Osaka was either by sea or road until the railway between the two cities was completed in November 1873. For the sea journey a paddle-steamer named the Ohen Maru was brought from Shanghai. There was also a screw-launch, the Gazelle. The distance by sea to the bar outside Osaka was about twelve miles. The bar which was some four hundred yards wide could be crossed by these boats, according to Samuel Mossman, except when the wind blew strong from the west, or a heavy ground swell had set in. Once over the bar the water was comparatively smooth and deep, and a landing could be made on the left bank of the Yodo-gawa. Mossman noted that the journey by land is some twenty-two miles, along a tolerably good road, with three ferries to cross. On Japanese ponies foreign residents frequently performed the journey in from three to four hours, the road passing through a picturesque country not far from the margin of the bay, with imposing mountain scenery in the background. There was a native post along the route, with relays of postmen at several stations, who carried letters or messages all the way, running on foot, accomplishing the distance generally within the four hours, except when the road was thickly covered in snow in winter. New Japan A telegraph service between Osaka and Kobe was started in 1870. A coaching service was established in Kobe in January 1868 by Wm Rangan & Co of Yokohama, Harold Williams records, but the

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roads out of Kobe were so narrow that Rangan had to abandon the idea of a coach service to Osaka. Some foreign residents, however, attempted the journey by pony and trap. In March 1871 the first jinrikisha journey was completed between the two towns. The fare was set at 6 ichibu, or about IVi US dollars at that time! Williams adds that the fare by ferry-boat between the two cities was only 1 dollar. 'Delays and mishaps on the voyage to Osaka were not unusual.' Most of the ferry-boats were old and apart from strandings on the bar there were many boiler mishaps. Williams quotes the following account of one trip: I have been to Osaka and I am happy to say I have got back. Osaka isn't much of a place, nothing to speak of in fact. We started at 1 o'clock on the superior steamer the Old Hen Mary [i.e. the Ohen Maru] and her gallant captain boldly breasted the surging flood, and turned her bow down stream which didn't seem to please Mary, for she showed a disposition to go down the river sideways. When the captain, after vainly trying to get her to go ahead, gave in, she sulked again and made up her mind only to go backwards. The Captain put out ropes to all the junks and the Japanese let them go; the mate swore, and the crew pushed with long poles. After a while she started down the river. Everything went merry as a marriage bell until we reached the bar, and then it seemed as though one letter of the bell was changed. The water was breaking and foaming, and the boat was puffing and blowing and . . . she commenced to roll, much to the disgust of the mate who put his glass to his eye .. . and said it was 'Bad, Sir, very bad,' and looked so hard at the breakers that he nearly made a hole in his glasses. After a while the steamer concluded to go back to Osaka and went sideways . . . and drifted slowly up the river. We then took a native junk to Kobe, fully convinced that a trip to Osaka furnishes many incidents for the notebook of a traveller. Hyogo News, 3 December 1868 quoted in Foreigners in Mikadoland Life of the foreign community The British community in Kobe made their own amusements, despite the fact that it remained even in 1878 comparatively small (some 250, mainly British, Germans and Americans). The Hyogo and Osaka Amateur Corps Dramatique announced in January 1869 the presentation of 'Cool as a Cucumber' and 'Ticket of Leave'. The first professional theatrical troupe from abroad had arrived on a visit two months earlier in November 1868. Harold Williams notes that by

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1869 there were three billiard-tables and one bowling alley in the settlement and of course a large number of bars! The Kobe Regatta and Athletic Club (KRAC) was formed on 23 September 1870. A boathouse and a gymnasium were built in 1870 and in 1872 arrangements were made to use a piece of ground which was known as 'the recreation ground'. In 1878 the KRAC moved to this recreation ground and assumed 'much of the responsibility' for its maintenance. The first regular Protestant services began in May 1870. By early 1872 a red-brick 'Union' church had been constructed. There was also a Roman Catholic Church. An international hospital was established in 1871. There was, as Harold Williams records, a Volunteer Fire Service, a municipal police force and consular jail! E. G. Holtham who arrived in Kobe in 1873 as a railway engineer, conveys some of the contemporary atmosphere of the settlement: At the club we found more billiard-tables, and a bowling alley and library; and were solemnly introduced to the honorary secretary, whom we had before seen on board in his official capacity as harbour master. Further, we made acquaintance with about fifty wild young merchant princes of Kobe, all of them very affable and condescending; and went home to our hotel to dinner, feeling free of the place. . . . Except that Yokohama is about five times the size of Kobe, there appears to be no great contrast between them in essentials. Each has its business quarter, its villas on the hill, its native town and harbour. Yokohama, though it has not within a half-hour's walk the mountains that have such a charm for pedestrians or lovers of scenery at Kobe, is within easy travelling distance of some lovely hill country; Kobe, though it has not the advantage of propinquity to the metropolis, is nevertheless entitled to rejoice in the neighbourhood of Osaka and Kyoto, together at least equal in interest to Tokyo. Society is pretty much the same in both places, Kobe having the advantage that its numbers will not support quite as many distinct cliques as flourish in the larger settlement. Both are hideous for three or four months in the year by reason of the tea-firing industry that crams the godowns with dirty and perspiring women of the lowest class, and defiles the streets with their wretched children, and the neighbourhood for miles around with both, morning and evening, as they tramp to and from their squalid villages. In both the simple children of nature - to wit, sailors ashore, policemen craftily concealed behind sticks and spectacles, and Chinamen patiently abiding the day when they may have amassed enough dollars for their ease at home - form a large proportion of the visible inhabitants; in

The Treaty ports: Kobe/Hyogo 165 both the flags of all nations fly from consular masts, and missionaries swarm and multiply in godly contentment. And yet I have never found among the people who are equally acquainted with both places, even a respectable minority who did not profess to prefer the smaller settlement and there are many who, like myself, could, on good cause shown, live and die in Kobe, who never perhaps appreciated Yokohama at its worth, never tried to like it or its belongings and surroundings, never rejoiced to see it before them or grieved when they left it and who, to all intents and purposes, are as much strangers in the most important foreign settlement of Japan, as if they had never been near it. In my own case, I attribute a permanent prejudice, which I confess with sorrow, to the fact that I arrived in 'Yokohama to find I had to go farther for a welcome, and that I never had anything more to do with the place than was absolutely necessary, which was very little. Eight Years in Japan Later visitors to Kobe In April 1878 another British traveller, R. W. Leyland, FRGS, also liked Kobe. He thought it beautifully situated. It strongly reminded him of Trieste. The streets were wide and everything had a 'peculiarly clean appearance'. The houses were 'well-built in European style and generally surrounded by gardens, while fine broad roads, intersecting one another at right angles, give the settlement a handsome appearance. The road or drive on the front overlooking the bay is particularly well-constructed, and must be a very pleasant resort for the residents after the heat of the day is over.' They stayed at Mrs Green's Hyogo Hotel which was close by the landing-place. He declared that for all European travellers this was 'the institution of the town'. Major Henry Knollys was equally impressed by Kobe: It really resembles a realization of those illustrated London advertisements representing a set of desirable mansions in a populous, well-built neighbourhood, but minus the vulgar cockneydom and plus the charms of semi-tropical sky, foliage, and native surroundings. The lawn along the sea-beach has been so mown and rolled as to approach that perfection of green softness, English turf. The streets are broad, well-paved, swept, and lighted with gas. . . . The luxurious-looking houses are excelled by the stately looking stores, few indeed in number, but containing every requirement and comfort of European civilization^ Here is a church, here a chapel, here a temperance hall, and

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here a club — an invariable and admirably ordered institution, which never fails to start into existence wherever an English community takes root. Croquet and lawn-tennis grounds show that even here our countrymen cling to athletic pursuits. English children — not, as elsewhere in the Far East, mere faded flowers - and English invalids are picking up that glow of health which they had lost at Hong Kang or Canton. The community, consisting of about 100 Europeans, is governed by a municipal council composed of a president and members. It raises its own taxes, provides for its own police, paving and lighting, and administers its own law and internal government. It is, in fact, anjmperium in imperio in its most elementary form, careful not to encroach on the laws of the country in which it exists, and treated by that country with forbearance and respect. Elsewhere, such a condition of affairs would be impracticable; in these strange antipodes it is the arrangement which is least open to objection. Sketches of Life in Japan Rudyard Kipling in 1889 thought the European portion 'a raw American town': We walked down the wide, naked streets between houses of sham stucco, with Corinthian pillars of wood, wooden verandahs and piazzas, all stony grey beneath stony grey skies, and keeping guard over raw green saplings miscalled shade trees. In truth, Kobe is hideously American in externals. Even I, who have only seen pictures of America, recognized at once that it was Portland, Maine. It lives among hills, but the hills are all scalped, and the general impression is of out-of-the-wayness. Yet, ere I go further, let me sing the praises of the excellent M. Begeux, proprietor of the Oriental Hotel, upon whom be peace. His is a house where you can dine. He does not merely feed you. His coffee is the coffee of the beautiful France. For tea he gives you Peliti cakes (but better) and the vin ordinaire which is compris, is good. Excellent Monsieur and Madame Begeux! If the Pioneer were a medium for puffs, I would write a leading article upon your potato salad, your beefsteaks, your fried fish, and your staff of highly trained Japanese servants in blue tights, who looked like so many small Hamlets without the velvet cloak, and who obeyed the unspoken wish. No, it should be a poem — a ballad of good living. I have eaten curries of the rarest at the Oriental at Penang, the turtle steaks of Raffles's at Singapore still live in my regretful memory, and they gave me chicken liver and sucking-pig in the Victoria at Hong Kong

The Treaty ports: Kobe/Hyogo 167 which I will always extol. But the Oriental at Kobe was better than all three. From Sea to Sea and Other Sketches The Reverend J. LI. Thomas, who visited Kobe in the summer of 1895, admired the fine European villas. He declared that 'at night the hillside and harbour look as if illuminated for some festive occasion.' There were then three hotels — the Oriental, the Hyogo and the Colonies. 'The fine Club' had a recreation ground, 'upon which are played the usual English and American games, such as cricket, base-ball, lawn-tennis, etc.' In the many curio shops in Moto-machi 'you can purchase all sorts of Japanese curiosities, from a god or goddess to a stone lantern.' However, the prevalence of cholera was calculated to detract from the thorough enjoyment of one's stay at Kobe, but the immunity of Europeans was to some extent reassuring. In going about the native quarter and seeing at intervals a notice on the door of a cholera-smitten house, one experienced an uneasy feeling at first, but familiarity with the sight soon deadened all sense of danger. The day following that of my arrival at Kobe was Sunday, and in the evening I attended service at the so-called 'Union Church' - which means that it is shared by the Anglicans and the Congregationalists of the town. That evening it was the Church's turn. I am afraid that the physical discomfort which I suffered while in church interfered not a little with my profiting spiritually either by the service or the chaplain's (Revd Sidney Swann) admirable discourse. The church was furnished with punkahs, which (although it was by no means hot) were kept going during the whole of the service. Every lady too, had her fan, and even some of the gentlemen, for Europeans take to a fan almost as naturally as the natives, though perhaps they are not, as a rule, as graceful in the use of it. What with currents and cross-currents, one worshipped at a decided disadvantage, and it was difficult to realize that we were in church at all. The multitude of fans, even without the huge punkahs, were quite enough to set up a breeze. Journeys among the gentle Japs Douglas Sladen was in Kobe in the 1890s. He too was an admirer of this 'little white town between the mountains and the Inland Sea, unvexed of cold or heat - the lotus-land of a contented little colony of English traders, and the source of roast beef for all the English settlements in the East.' He stayed at the Hyogo Hotel - 'one of the finest in Japan, with electric light and every modern convenience'.

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Gilbert Watson declared of his visit to Kobe at the turn of the century: 'Kobe is so full of pleasant memories that, pen in hand, I lie back in my armchair and know not where to begin.' He too stayed with his two companions in the Hyogo Hotel. Their windows opened on a broad balcony from which they had 'an extensive panorama, embracing a foreground of streets, a middle distance of harbour, and a background of sunlit sea.' Kobe is charmingly situated. It nestles confidingly against the purple slopes which ultimately rise in bold forest-clad uplands, and shelter it from the north winds. It is a busy little seaport town, full of the bustle and movement of commercial people. Perhaps the fact of its being in touch with the great business centres of the Western hemisphere may help to account for some of the incongruities to which I have referred. It was certainly a strain to one's risible faculties to see the Japanese dandy and the Japanese coolie side by side, the former equipped in frock-coat, silk hat, patent-leather boots, gloves, buttonhole, and silver-headed cane, the latter clad in the primitive simplicity of mushroom hat^ straw sandals, and the merest wisp of cloth twisted round his loins. Civilization and barbarism rubbing shoulders — I think we preferred the barbarism. It was a pleasant life that we led in sunny Kobe - day after day of wandering among strange scenes, into out-of-the-way corners and unfamiliar places. Every excursion was a veritable voyage of discovery, undertaken in doubt, followed up with anxiety, carried to a successful conclusion with triumph and satisfaction. Three Rolling Stones in Japan

Niigata

The port selected on the Japan sea coast as a Treaty port was Niigata. It was never regarded as particularly suitable and Sir Harry Parkes, the second British Minister to Japan, looked at others as possible alternatives. Nanao, further westwards, was considered, but Niigata remained the chosen port. It should have opened on 1 January 1860. In fact it was not opened until 1869 and the first British acting Consul, James Troup, was not appointed until 5 August that year. He remained there until 1871. Troup's report for the year 1869 was, according to Grace Fox, discouraging: 'No ship had come direct from any foreign country. The only trade had been with other open Japanese treaty ports. Only seventeen foreigners, exclusive of Chinese, had taken up residence. There were none from Britain.' By 1871 Mr Consul Enslie recorded that only one foreign firm, a German house, remained. By the spring of 1874, there were only five foreign residents in Niigata: two Germans, one Dutchman, one Frenchman, and Mr Moss, an Englishman who taught in the local school. The town was, however, developing and in 1874 the British Consul believed that Niigata would some day take rank with the principal towns of Japan. In 1877 only three ships, two British and one Danish, visited Niigata. There were then six British members in the foreign community, but Vice-Consul Troup, who had returned there, was transferred to Nagasaki and after 1877 no resident British Consul appears to have been appointed to Niigata. According to Grace Fox, the commercial reports for Niigata for 1878 and 1879 were signed by consuls resident elsewhere. Thereafter there do not seem to have been any regular reports. Niigata had been chosen as a Treaty port because it had been used regularly during the Tokugawa period by Japanese coastal vessels bringing rice from the Niigata plain to Osaka. But, because of the delta created by the Shinano river, it was not suitable for large vessels and it did not turn out to be a good centre either for the distribution of imported goods or for the purchase of such Japanese commodities as silk and tea, which were in demand in Europe in the early years of the Meiji regime. Ernest Satow accompanied Sir Harry Parkes on a reconnaissance of the area in 1867: 169

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From the sea the view of Niigata is very fine. In the background the mountains of Aizu rise at some distance inland, stretching far away to right and left. In front lies a level plain, consisting mainly of rice-fields, fringed with trees. The foreground is a sandy shore, rising into sandhills to the right of the river mouth, and at some distance to the west the prospect terminates in the lofty peaks of Yahiko yama. I landed immediately with Dr Wilson of the Basilisk, and the sea being quite smooth we crossed the bar without difficulty. Inside the water is very deep, and some eighty junks were lying there at anchor. The town is situated a little way up the river, not quite close to the bank. We chose what seemed a convenient landing-place, and pushed ashore. Immediately a number of two-sworded officials made their appearance, and forming themselves into an escort, led the way to a Buddhist temple, the reception rooms of which had been prepared for the use of foreigners. . . . On our way back to the ship we stopped at a new hotel, where we dined in Japanese fashion, and made some purchases of the curious lacquered articles called mokusa-nuri which are manufactured in Aizu, and china grass cloth woven in the villages further inland. This was not to be had in the shops, but was hawked about the town by people from the country. Here for the first time I saw the frozen snow, which in those days was the Japanese substitute for ice, and we found it a great luxury at that season of the year. Niigata was laid out in the form of the truncated segment of a circle, and intersected by canals, the banks of which were lined with willow trees, suggesting a Dutch model. The canals, however, were narrow and dirty, and better deserving perhaps the name of ditches. . . . After a two hours' talk we started off to inspect an island in the river which it was proposed should be converted to the uses of a foreign settlement. Sir Harry, who was of an active inquisitive temperament, here signalized himself in the eyes of the natives by scrambling up to the top of a large shed, under which a junk was in course of construction, to get a view of the surrounding country, much to the horror of Mitford and myself, who were so orientalized by this time in our notions that we longed to see our chief conduct himself with the impassive dignity of a Japanese gentleman. This exploit being over, he dragged us all, including Hewett, about the town till half-past six, not to the improvement of the tempers of that gallant officer or of his boat's crew, who thus lost their dinner. I remained behind with Noguchi, dined again in Japanese fashion, and spent the night on shore, in the enjoyment of a few hours'

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perfect freedom. In fact, I did not return to the ship till the following afternoon, and then had some difficulty in getting off, as there was a heavy swell on the bar, though outside there was neither wind nor rough sea. A Diplomat in Japan In December 1868 Dr William Willis, who had been asked to help with the wounded in the civil war of 1868 which marked the Meiji restoration, visited Niigata: The town of Niigata is said to contain ten thousand houses by the Japanese of whom I have enquired, but I do not think it is so large. Its streets are in the main parallel, cutting each other at right angles; besides the streets there is a series of canals with willow and other trees growing along the banks, which in summer doubtless gives a picturesque appearance to the place, and by means of these canals a good deal of the traffic of the place is carried on. As a town it certainly surpasses any place that I have seen since I left Edo. The people seem well-to-do, and from its position at the mouth of the Shinanogawa river, which flows through the extensive plain that lies inland, it must be by far the most important place on the west coast as a site for foreign trade. It does not appear, however, to be the seat of any important manufactures. During the summer, I am told, an immense number of native junks call at Niigata bound from Osaka, Shimonoseki to the south K and from Matsumae, Hakodate and Ezo to the north [Ezo is the old name for Hokkaido. Hakodate and Matsumae are ports on the south west of Ezo]. During this period of the year much activity prevails. During winter however all traffic by native junks ceases in consequence of the stormy character of the Japan Sea, and the place is comparatively dull and stagnant. In March last a fire broke out accidentally in a carpenter's shop which destroyed some six hundred houses, and on the occasion of the entry of the Mikado's army in September last a large fire took place which destroyed some 1,300 houses. It is said the place was fired by the army of the Mikado, under the mistaken impression tliat large bodies of Aizu's retainers were harboured in the town. This appears, however, not to have been the case. There is much activity at present displayed in rebuilding the houses destroyed by the two fires, and it may be expected that in the course of a year the town will have resumed pretty nearly its former appearance. . . . The place is plentifully supplied with fish, game and vegetables at the present season and at prices below those ruling at Edo or Yokohama. Salmon

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in large numbers are caught in the river; at this season they average in weight about ten or eleven pounds; one of unusual size weighed nineteen pounds. They are inferior in flavour to the English salmon. A salmon of fourteen or fifteen pounds costs three bu. The salmon fishery of this place is farmed out by the government. The people generally seem of a type rather beyond the average in good looks; the women are considered amongst the handsomest in Japan. The number of prostitutes is out of all proportion to the population, a circumstance due it is said to the crowds of native sailors who visit the place in summer in junks. I have seen very few beggars and but little squalid poverty. . . . Dr Willis in Japan Isabella Bird arrived in Niigata by boat in July 1878 More forest, more dreams, then the forest and the abundant vegetation altogether disappeared, the river opened out among low lands and banks of shingle and sand, and by three we were on the outskirts of Niigata, whose low houses, with rows of stones upon their roofs, spread over a stretch of sand, beyond which is a sandy roll with some clumps of firs. Tea-houses with many balconies studded the river-side, and pleasure-parties were enjoying themselves with geisha and sake, but, on the whole, the water-side streets are shabby and tumble down, and the landward side of the great city of western Japan is certainly disappointing; and it was difficult to believe it a Treaty port, for the sea was not in sight, and there were no consular flags flying. We poled along one of the numerous canals, which are the carriage-ways for produce and goods, among hundreds of loaded boats, landed in the heart of the city, and, as the result of repeated inquiries, eventually reached the Church Mission House, an unshaded wooden building without verandahs, close to the Government Buildings, where I was most kindly welcomed by Mr and Mrs Fyson. The house is plain, simple, and inconveniently small; but doors and walls are great luxuries, and you cannot imagine how pleasing the ways of a refined European household are after the eternal babblement and indecorum of the Japanese. I have spent over a week in Niigata, and leave it regretfully tomorrow, rather for the sake of the friends I have made than for its own interests. I never experienced a week of more abominable weather. The sun has been seen just once, the mountains, which are thirty miles off, not at all. The clouds are

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a brownish grey, the air moist and motionless, and the mercury has varied from 82° in the day to 80° at night. The household is afflicted with lassitude and loss of appetite. Evening does not bring coolness, but myriads of flying, creeping, jumping, running creatures, all with power to hurt, which replace the day mosquitoes, villains with spotted legs, which bite and poison one without the warning hum. The night mosquitoes are legion. There are no walks except in the streets and the public gardens, for Niigata is built on a sand spit, hot and bare. Neither can you get a view of it without climbing to the top of a wooden lookout. Niigata is a Treaty port without foreign trade, and almost without foreign residents. Not a foreign ship visited the port either last year or this. There are only two foreign firms, and these are German, and only eighteen foreigners, of which number, except the missionaries, nearly all are in Government employment. Its river, the Shinano, is the largest in Japan, and it and its affluents bring down a prodigious volume of water. The minds of engineers are much exercised upon the Shinano, and the Government is most anxious to deepen the channel and give Western Japan what it has not - a harbour; but the expense of the necessary operation is enormous, and in the meantime a limited ocean traffic is carried on by junks and by a few small Japanese steamers which call outside. There is a British ViceConsulate, but, except as a step, few would accept such a dreary post or outpost. But Niigata is a handsome, prosperous city of 50,000 inhabitants, the capital of the wealthy province of Echigo, with a population of one and a half millions, and is the seat of the Kenrei, or provincial governor, of the chief law courts, of fine schools, a hospital and barracks. It is curious to find in such an excluded town a school deserving the designation of a college, as it includes intermediate, primary, and normal schools, an English school with 150 pupils, organized by English and American teachers, an engineering school, a geological museum, splendidly equipped laboratories, and the newest and most approved scientific and educational apparatus. The government buildings, which are grouped near Mr Fyson's are of painted white wood, and are imposing from their size and their innumerable glass windows. There is a large hospital arranged by a European doctor, with a medical school attached, and it, the Kencho [Prefectural Government offices], the Saibansho [court of justice], or Court-House, the schools, the barracks, and a large bank, which is rivalling them all, have a go-ahead,

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Europeanized look, bold, staring, and tasteless. There are large public gardens, very well laid out, and with finely gravelled walks. There are 300 street lamps, which burn the mineral oil of the district. Yet, because the riotous Shinano persistently bars it out from the sea, its natural highway, the capital of one of the richest provinces of Japan is 'left out in the cold', and the province itself, which yields not only rice, silk, tea, hemp, ninjin [carrots], and indigo, in large quantities, but gold, copper, coal, and petroleum, has to send most of its produce to Yedo across ranges of mountains, on the backs of pack-horses, by roads scarcely less infamous than the one by which I came. The Niigata of the Government, with its signs of progress in a western direction, is quite unattractive-looking as compared with the genuine Japanese Niigata, which is the neatest, cleanest, and most comfortable-looking town I have yet seen, and altogether free from the jostlement of a foreign settlement. It is renowned for the beautiful tea-houses, which attract visitors from distant places, and for the excellence of the theatres, and is the centre of the recreation and pleasure of a large district. It is so beautifully clean that, as at Nikko, I should feel reluctant to walk upon its well-swept streets in muddy boots. It would afford a good lesson to the Edinburgh authorities, for every vagrant bit of straw, stick, or paper, is at once pounced upon and removed, and no rubbish may stand for an instant in its streets except in a covered box or bucket. It is 'correctly laid out in square divisions, formed by five streets over a mile long, crossed by very numerous short ones, and is intersected by canals, which are its real roadways. I have not seen a pack-horse in the streets; everything comes in by boat, and there are few houses in the city yvhich cannot have their goods delivered by canal very near to their doors. These water-ways are busy all day, but in the early morning, when the boats come in loaded with the vegetables, without which the people could not exist for a day, the bustle is indescribable. The cucumber boats just now are the great sight. The canals are usually in the middle of the streets, and have fairly broad roadways on both sides. They are much below the street level, and their nearly perpendicular banks are neatly faced with wood, broken at intervals by flights of stairs. They are bordered by trees, among which are many weeping willows; and, as the river water runs through them, keeping them quite sweet, and they are crossed at short intervals by light bridges, they form a very attractive feature of Niigata.

Woodblock print of an English soldier by Hiroshige II, about 1860.

Woodblock print of the Navy Ministry (foreign sailors frightening two Japanese) by Ikkei, about 1872.

Woodblock print of Japanese, including Jinrikisha coolies, attacking a foreigner. Probably 1870s.

Woodblock print of a railway engine at Shimbashi Station by Ikuhide dated 1890.

Woodblock print of the railway from Shimbashi to Yokohama as seen from Takanawa near Shinagawa by Hiroshige III. 1870s.

Kobe before the typhoon from the Graphic, 16 September 1871.

Kobe after the typhoon (ibid).

Woodblock print of the Tsukiji Hotel in Tokyo (Union Jack at the mast). 1870s.

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The houses have very steep roofs of shingle, weighted with stones, and, as they are of very irregular heights, and all turn the steep gables of the upper storeys streetwards, the town has a picturesqueness very unusual in Japan. The deep verandahs are connected all along the streets, so as to form a sheltered promenade when the snow lies deep in winter. With its canals with their avenues of trees, its fine public gardens, and clean, picturesque streets, it is a really attractive town; but its improvements are recent, and were only lately completed by Mr Masakata Kusumoto, now Governor of Tokyo. There is no appearance of poverty in any part of the town, but if there be wealth, it is carefully concealed. One marked feature of the city is the number of streets of dwelling-houses with projecting windows of wooden slats, through which the people can see without being seen, though at night, when the andons [oil lamps] are lit, we saw, as we walked from Dr Palm's, that in most cases- families were sitting round the hibachi [charcoal brazier] in a deshabille of the scantiest kind. The fronts are very narrow, and the houses extend backwards to an amazing length, with gardens in which flowers, shrubs, and mosquitoes are grown, and bridges are several times repeated, so as to give the effect of fairyland as you look through from the street. The principal apartments in all Japanese houses are at the back, looking out on these miniature landscapes, for a landscape is skilfully dwarfed into a space often not more than 30 feet square. A lake, a rockwork, a bridge, a stone lantern, and a deformed pine, are indispensable; but whenever circumstances and means admit of it, quaintnesses of all kinds are introduced. Small pavilions, retreats for tea-making, reading, sleeping in quiet and coolness, fishing under cover, and drinking sake; bronze pagodas, cascades falling from the mouths of bronze dragons; rock caves, with gold and silver fish darting in and out; lakes with rocky islands, streams crossed by green bridges, just high enough to allow a rat or frog to pass under; lawns, and slabs of stone for crossing them in wet weather, grottoes, hills, valleys, groves of miniature palms, cycas, and bamboo; and dwarfed trees of many kinds, of purplish and dull green hues, are cut into startling likenesses of beasts and creeping things, or stretch distorted arms over tiny lakes. I have walked about a great deal in Niigata, and when with Mrs Fyson, who is the only European lady here at present, and her little Ruth, a pretty Saxon child of three years old, we have been followed by an immense crowd, as the sight of this fair creature, with golden curls falling over her shoulders, is most

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fascinating. Both men and women have gentle, winning ways with infants, and Ruth, instead of being afraid of the crowds, smiles upon them, bows in Japanese fashion, speaks to them in Japanese, and seems a little disposed to leave her own people altogether. It is most difficult to make her keep with us, and two or three times, on missing her and looking back, we have seen her seated, native fashion, in a ring in a crowd of several hundred people, receiving a homage and admiration from which she was most unwillingly torn. The Japanese have a perfect passion for children, but it is not good for European children to be much with them, as they corrupt their morals, and teach them to tell lies. The climate of Niigata and of most of this great province contrasts unpleasantly with the region on the other side of the mountains, warmed by the gulf-stream of the North Pacific, in which the autumn and winter, with their still atmosphere, bracing temperature, and blue and sunny skies, are the most delightful seasons of the year. Thirty-two days of snow-fall occur on an average. The canals and rivers freeze, and even the rapid Shinano sometimes bears a horse. In January and February the snow lies three or four feet deep, a veil of clouds obscures the sky, people inhabit their upper rooms to get any daylight, pack-horse traffic is suspended, pedestrians go about with difficulty in rough snow-shoes, and for nearly six months the coast is unsuitable for navigation, owing to the prevalence of strong, cold, north-west winds. In this city people in wadded clothes, with only their eyes exposed, creep about under the verandahs. The population huddles round hibachis and shivers, for the mercury, which rises to 92° in summer, falls to 15° in winter. And all this is in latitude 37° 55' — three degrees south of Naples! Unbeaten Tracks in Japan

Kyoto

Kyoto, where the Japanese Emperor, the Mikado, had resided since the eighth century, remained closed to foreigners during the final years of the Bakufu until 1868, the year of the Imperial restoration. Thereafter, until the treaties were revised and new treaties came into force in 1899, it was necessary for the foreign visitor to get a special passport to enable him to visit the old capital. After the first years of Meiji, this presented few problems, but it did mean that Kyoto was not a place where extra-territoriality applied. During the Tokugawa era of seclusion the only foreigners who were able to visit Kyoto were occasional parties of Dutch on their way to Edo to call on the Shogun with their regular gifts, regarded by the Bakufu as a form of tribute. In 1861, as we have seen, Alcock, the British Minister, was not permitted to travel from Osaka to Edo via Kyoto, even though he was accompanied by Mr de Wit, his Dutch colleague. During the Tokugawa period the Shogun kept a close control on the Imperial Court through their representative in Kyoto, but in the final years of the Bakufu their ability to control the capital had declined. The outer (or Tozama) Daimyo, who were opposed to the Bakufu, were increasing their influence in the Imperial capital and as they were the leaders of the Sonno Joi (literally Revere the Emperor and expel the barbarian) movement the Bakufu realized that they could not guarantee the safety of foreigners in the capital. They also thought that the presence of the foreigner would be provocative. In fact the Tozama Daimyo by 1868 had long ceased to put the emphasis on expelling the barbarians; indeed many of them, including the Satsuma "and Choshu fiefs leaders, who controlled the anti-Bakufu movement, had developed close contacts with western countries, especially Britain. At the end of January 1868 the Shogun's forces were defeated in fighting at Toba-Fushimi, south of Kyoto. The Shogun, who had resigned, retired to Osaka castle. But Osaka was in disorder and diplomatic representatives retired to Kobe, when the castle was fired and the ex-Shogun escaped to Edo. In the Toba-Fushimi incident, a number of men of the Imperial forces had been injured. These had included members of the forces from the Satsuma fief in southern Kyushu. Since the bombardment of 179

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Kagoshima in 1863, in retaliation for the murder of the British merchant Charles Richardson on the Tokaido, enmity had been transformed into friendship. Sir Harry Parkes, the British Minister, made a visit to Kagoshima in 1866 and had confirmed the new relationship. It was, therefore, not surprising that the Satsuma leaders turned to the British for medical assistance for their injured. Parkes accordingly arranged for Dr William Willis to go to Kyoto to attend the injured, who were housed in a sub-temple of Sokokuji, which lies to the north of the Imperial palace. Accompanied by Ernest Satow, Dr Willis made way to Kyoto via Osaka. They were thus the first British visitors to Kyoto since the early seventeenth century. Satow's account of their visit was mainly concerned with political developments and his general comments on the city were few. He recorded that one afternoon, while Willis was looking after the Satsuma wounded, he took a walk down to the bookshops in Sanjo-dori, accompanied by an escort. When he got there the people seemed to realize that he was a foreigner. One little boy asked whether he was a native of the Ryukyu islands! Satow was not impressed by the Nijo castle which struck him as 'insignificant' compared with many a fortress belonging to a small Daimyo. Hardly had Willis got back to Kobe than he was called upon to go again to Kyoto, to attend to a roue Daimyo of great influence among the anti-Bakufu forces (Yamanouchi Yodo of the Tosa fief in Shikoku). This time Willis was accompanied by A. B. Mitford, Second Secretary of the Legation. After a lengthy boat trip up the river from Osaka they arrived at Fushimi. [They were met] by a perfect nightmare in the shape of a guard of Tosa men - wild-looking fellows, clad in armour with their faces hideously masked and long elf locks of black or white horsehair hanging down from their helmets over their shoulders. With this weird escort of pantomimic demons, we marched into Kyoto along a road which was really one long, continuous village full of shops doing a brisk trade in gods and dolls - fairings to be taken home by pious pilgrims to the shrines of the sacred city. The road was in a very bad state, having been much cut up by the passing of artillery. Mitford managed to get a little time off and have some fun. He wrote to his father from Hyogo [Kobe] on 16 March 1868: First of all I was taken out of the city to Kiyomizu, up on the hills; Kiyomizu is famous for a fine old Temple commanding a panoramic view of the city, and for a manufacture of delicate

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blue and white porcelain. The Temple is indeed a lovely spot with all the graces of hill and trees and water, and for its own sake one would gladly have lingered for half an hour over a cup of tea and a cigar: but to be looking over Kyoto of which I had read and heard so much and which to enter three months ago would have been death; I can hardly expect you in England shivering as you probably will be over a May fire when you read this, to feel with me. As far as situation goes Kyoto leaves nothing to be desired. It is situated in a valley surrounded on three sides by picturesque fir-clad hills above which a second and higher range rises, at this season covered with snow. Through the valley, cutting the town in two, rushes a mountain torrent. As a capital the city is certainly mean. . . . Throughout the whole place there seems not to be a stirring edifice of any kind. There are, however, as is natural in the capital of a court which for centuries has confined its functions to the conducting of spiritual rites and ceremonies, some fine and ancient temples, but these do not stand out. The monks and priests of all countries know the comfort of a snuggery among the trees. I should think that the population of Kyoto might perhaps be estimated at from 180,000 to 200,000. . . . My presence in the temple attracted a most enormous crowd. I am inclined to think that I may have been a source of profits to the priests. For the sake of piety and gratitude I hope that some of all these well-to-do cits [i.e. citizens] with their picturesquely dressed daughters left a cash or two before the altar in return for the entertainment which they received by contemplating me and studying my manners and customs. You never were a sight, I suppose. I've been a popular exhibition for three years — all the more popular for being gratis; it gets tiresome. If the bird's-eye view of Kyoto is disappointing I think the closer view is still more so, for in this latter you are not reminded of the beautiful surrounding scenery. The streets are clean and fairly wide, but there is nothing grand, nothing large. The bridges that cross the mountain torrent are often mere planks, rotten and full of holes, laid across supporting piles. I missed the sombre impressive portals of the Daimyo's mansions in Edo, to which the snug little cottages of the Kuge or members of the Mikado's court are as St John's Wood to Stafford House. Even the large silk merchants who, trusting their spacious establishments at Osaka and Edo to foremen, reside themselves at Kyoto, are contented with far smaller places than those of their hired servants. There were but few people about - and no wonder for the

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weather was dreadful — however I saw one lady with her eyebrows shaven off and artificial ones painted in high up on the forehead. This is the fashion of the Mikado's court and I think it is the very queerest idea in the whole world, perhaps because I am not used to it. Simple shaven eyebrows and black teeth are no longer strange to me. . . . At Gion, a quarter of the city where the Japanese dandies go to divert themselves, I was bidden by two or three gentlemen to an entertainment in a famous tea-house. In these sophisticated days I doubt whether such a feast could be given. There was a company of the most fashionable geiko — who in other parts, and indeed everywhere now, are called geisha. In song and in story the geiko of old Kyoto is celebrated as an artist and for the willow-like beauty of her thighs - in this there is no impropriety — and the expression simply means gracefulness. When these young ladies sat down between the guests I saw plainly that I was an object of terror - none wished to come near me - the strange beast frightened them; but at last the prettiest of them took to herself heart of brass and squatted down beside me; shy and wild she was at first, but after a while she became quite tame, like a little gazelle that feeds out of your hand, and indeed her eyes had much the look of those of a pet deer; if only her pretty lips had not been gilt! In the middle of the feast the landlady, black-toothed and shaven-browed, came in armed with a murderous-looking chopper in one hand, and in the other a small stand upon which was placed a bean-curd cake, the dish for which the house was famous. The cutting up of the bean-curd cake was a science and a ceremony, always taking place in the presence of guests. With a great assumption of dignity the old lady lifted her chopper, and bringing it down with a great crack upon the wooden stand, from the rebound of the blow gave a dozen or so little raps that sounded almost like the roll of a drum, with which, as quick as thought, she had sliced the bean-curd cake into as many little parts of almost mathematically equal size, which were carried off to be roasted on slender bamboo skewers. It was really a very pretty trick and received with a loud tribute of applause, which the dear lady accepted with all the consciousness of merit of a prima donna after the execution of a brilliant cavatina. As in duty bound, I ate my skewerful of bean-curds, but I confess that I did not relish them. Then came dancing - all of it full of intention to the elect — to me the mere poetry of motion into which I, the barbarian, could not read the significance and

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the story. The palm was borne away by two pretty little mites of about eleven years, precocious pets into whom the Terpsichore of the Far East had breathed all her spirit, all her grace. When the dancing was over, the geiko went away to doff their stage dresses, and appeared again as little bourgeoises, and the two tiny creatures became very inquisitive about me, and insisted upon taking off my socks (the shoes had been left more Japonico at the door) and examining my feet. Had they been Europeans I should have thought that they were seeking for the cloven hoof. It was near midnight when I reached the Tosa yashiki after seven hours of real good fun. Memories Mitford and Willis, who had done what he could for the old rake, went back to the Legation in Kobe, but they were soon on their way again to Kyoto. On this occasion they accompanied Sir Harry Parkes, who was to be received in audience by the new and young Emperor Mutsuhito (known to posterity by his era name of Meiji). The audience was due to take place on 23 March 1868. The Legation party were given accommodation in the Chionin temple. Mitford said that 'it would be difficult to forget the lovely temple with its avenues of huge cherry-trees, its vast halls, its art treasures, and its great solemn bell rolling out deep, musical waves of sound far away over the city'. On the day appointed for the audience: At one o'clock we left the temple in pomp and state which it is needful that I should describe in order that what followed may be understood. First came the Legation mounted escort, headed by their inspector, Mr Peacock. These were picked men sent out from the Metropolitan Police, a gallant little troop armed with lances, making a brave show. Then came Sir Harry Parkes on horseback, with Satow and two high officials, Goto Shojiro and Nakai Kozo; after them a guard of the 9th Regiment under Lieutenants Bradshaw and Bruce (afterwards Marquess of Ailesbury). My mare had unfortunately gone dead lame, so I followed in a palanquin. After me came a guard of some fifteen hundred or two thousand Japanese soldiers. As good luck would have it, Dr Willis and some naval officers whom Sir Harry had invited, among whom were two surgeons, accompanied us. Without let or hindrance our procession passed along a straight street almost facing the gates of the temple, but as the leading men turned the corner of the Shimbashi Street - a street where there are not a few wine-shops and houses inhabited by geisha (quite respectable), two Ronin armed with naked swords

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sprang out and began slashing and hacking in the maddest fury. The street was so narrow that our men's lances were hindered by the projecting eaves of the houses, and were useless. Nakai Kozo jumped off his horse and drawing his sword engaged one of them, but catching his foot in his long trousers, stumbled and received a severe cut on the head from a blow the full and deadly force of which he contrived to parry. At this moment Goto Shojiro, who, with Sir Harry, had not yet turned the corner, perceiving from the backing of the horses and the scuffle in front that there was mischief ahead, dismounted and, dashing forward, rushed to the rescue of Nakai. Between them, fighting like fury, they killed the ruffian, and Nakai, jumping up, hacked off his head. The other man rushed at Sir Harry, cutting and slashing as he went, but fortunately missing the Minister. Satow had a narrow escape, for his horse was wounded close to his rider's knee, and part of the poor beast's nose was sliced off. On the villain went, now cutting at the men of the 9th. I heard pistol shots and the clatter of swords and cries of, 'We are attacked!' 'Kill him!' 'Shoot him!' and the like. I jumped out of my palanquin more quickly than I ever in my life jumped out of anything, and rushed forward. There were pools of blood in the street, and I saw the murderer coming at me, by this time himself wounded, but not seriously, and full of fight. His sword was dripping and his face bleeding. I knew enough of Japanese swordmanship to be aware that it was no use to try and avoid his blow, so I rushed in underneath his guard and wrenched the bleeding sword out of his grip. I handed him over to the men of the 9th, but he managed to wriggle away from them and bolted down a passage into a courtyard. I ran on to see whether Parkes was safe. To my great relief he was sitting on his horse, quite unmoved, with Satow, whose pony was bleeding, also mercifully unhurt. As I came up with them I stumbled over something; it was a man's head. The street was like a shambles; nine of the escort and one man of the 9th and four horses had been wounded, some of them lying in pools of their own blood. Sir Harry's groom was also bleeding. Our gallant little friend Nakai was badly hurt, but quite gay, as usual. Seeing that the affray was over and that there was nothing that I could do, I ran back to make sure of the other Ronin who had run down the courtyard. I found that he had been shot in the face by Lieutenant Bradshaw, but the weapon was but a toy pistol and the bullet had glanced off the jaw-bone. When I reached the bottom of the yard, I saw my man, a repulsive object smeared with mud and blood so that his features were

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hardly human, trying to escape over a wall. I hung on to him and pulled him down. I shall never forget the horror in his eyes as he glared at me, evidently thinking that I should kill him. Of course he looked upon me as a man might look upon his murderer. But my object, on the contrary, was to save him. I wanted him, for through him I hoped to get at the bottom of the plot. So I handed him over to the guard with strict injunctions that he was not to be hurt. As for the fifteen hundred Japanese soldiers, they decamped, and only came back having in the distance fired what was something uncommonly like a feu de joie. It was perhaps too much to expect of them, new as they were to relations with foreigners, that they should show the same courage and loyalty which had been exhibited by Goto and Nakai. Of course, going on to the Court was out of the question for that day. . . . It was a melancholy procession home. As I walked by the side of Sir Harry's horse he turned to me and said, 'Sensation diplomacy this, Mitford.' The audience eventually took place: It was 26 March, the third day of the third moon; an auspicious day in the omens of which the most punctilious of soothsayers could find no fault or foreboding of evil. The tragically postponed audience of the Mikado was now to take place. The Government were naturally very anxious after the events of two days before, and extraordinary precautions were taken to prevent the recurrence of any such misadventure. From early dawn the many-acred courts of the temple were crowded with men-atarms arrayed in all the panoply of ancient armour, with helmets and mustachioed vizors. The picturesque figures of these warriors, framed in the setting of the heavy-eaved architecture of the sacred buildings, were striking even to us who by this time were tolerably well used to such startling sights. Two great Daimyo, Prince Date, the Inkyo of Uwajima, and the Prince of Hizen, had been told off to conduct us in person to the Palace; their retainers, more numerous than the tail of a Highland chieftain, armed with tasselled spears and other weapons of the olden time, made a brave show. Our own retinue was sadly reduced. Our mounted escort could only muster two men, who with drawn swords rode on either side of Sir Harry. Satow and I rode immediately behind him. The drawn swords, I should mention, were very significant, and would have a startling effect in the streets of

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Kyoto, for in Japan the blade was never bared save for bloodshed, and the sight of them would have a meaning which my readers can hardly realize. However, there was no need for their use this time. The streets were admirably kept, and although huge crowds had gathered together to see our procession, they were quite orderly, and there was no sign of any disturbance — which would have been almost impossible — nor was there an ugly word uttered. We had a longish way to go, and reached the Gosho, the Imperial Palace, at about one o'clock. The Palace of the Son of Heaven, unlike the dwellings of most Oriental potentates, who delight in show and magnificence, was chiefly marked by a noble simplicity; it was not even fortified, but was surrounded by plain whitewashed walls topped with grey tiles, of which the nine gates, as I have already said, were each committed to the charge of the troops of one of the great Daimyo. Still, in spite of its studied plainness, the Gosho was not without a certain grandeur of its own. There was none of that economy of space which always makes a mean effect; the courtyards were vast and kept scrupulously clean with fresh white sand; the buildings, of which there were many, although entirely without ornament, were large and roomy, bearing a great stamp of dignity. At the inner gate of ceremony, the gate used by princes of the blood, we dismounted and were led by the great officers of State through a succession of courtyards to a waiting-room, where we were received by Yamashina no Miya, a cousin of the Emperor. Here we were plied with sweetmeats, sponge cake, tea and talk, waiting until the Mikado, who was eating his mid-day meal, should be ready to hold his Court. It was interesting to see in the flesh, if I may use the expression, a scene such as we are familiar with in the paintings on ancient gilt screens and kakemono. The court dress had a peculiar cachet, a 'flavour' as the Chinese would put it, of its own. The black cap (eboshi) tied under the chin had something of the effect of the huge piles of hair worn by women, which one sees caricatured about the thirties of the nineteenth century. The coat was of dark silk, hanging loose, with long, wide sleeves, and the sword was slung instead of being thrust into the girdle, sticking out behind like a tail. The trousers were baggy and clumsy in make, of lighter-coloured stuff than the coat. But the strangest part to our eyes of the whole get-up were the shoes — huge black lacquer sabots worn in crossing the courtyards, but of course doffed on entering a room, so con-

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structed that the wearer had to shuffle along in the most uncertain fashion, the very parody of walking. The costume altogether might appear grotesque to a newcomer, but we had so long learned to associate it with the dignity of old tradition that its oddness had ceased to raise our wonder. On a sudden, as we were waiting in the ante-room, there arose the wild and picturesque strains of flute, mouth-organ, lute, drums and other instruments of string, wood and percussion, belonging to his Majesty's private band — a curious wailing music. Here again we had something with a flavour entirely its own, though one of the Japanese gentlemen who had been in England said that it reminded him of the Italian opera. The power of the imagination could hardly go further. At last we were ushered into the Presence. Only Sir Harry Parkes and myself were to be presented - Satow, by far the most important man of the three, not having at that time been presented at our own Court, could not, according to etiquette, be presented to a foreign sovereign. Unfortunately the rain, which had been threatening all the morning, had begun to fall in torrents, so we had to splash through the various courtyards, ankle-deep in wet sand. Guards of honour were stationed at intervals — an unknown sight in the precincts of the Gosho, into the inner enclosure of which no soldiers had up to that time been admitted. We were introduced into the Audience Hall by the Prince of Hizen. Passing up a double flight of steps we entered the audience chamber, a long hall forming one side of a courtyard of which the remaining three sides were a verandah open only on the inside. In this verandah sat the band, clothed in red, blue and gaudy colours, with lacquer caps upon their heads. The Presence Chamber itself was a long room, very simple and plain. In the centre was a canopy supported by four slender pillars of black lacquer draped with white silk, into which was woven a pattern in red and black; the drapery was caught up and festooned with black and red ribbons. On the inside of each of the two front pillars stood a lion, curiously carved in wood, the one black the other gilt, about two feet high. Like our own Lion and Unicorn they had some mystic meaning, some hidden connection with the kingly order. Under the canopy was the young Mikado, seated in, or rather, leaning against, a high chair. Behind him knelt two Princes of the blood, ready to prompt him, if need should be, in the playing of his part. Outside the canopy and in front of His Majesty knelt two other Princes of the blood. On a raised floor

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decked with costly green silk, close to the canopy, stood Sir Harry and myself, our conductor, the Prince of Hizen, kneeling beside us. On one side Ito Shunsuke [Ito Hirobumi], Governor of Hyogo, who was to act as interpreter, was also kneeling. On either side of the canopy in a double or treble row, extending to the end of the Hall, stood the great Princes of the Empire, men such as Satsuma, Choshu, Uwajima, Kaga, and other great nobles - to us, up to that time, no more than names, but now realized in the flesh. As we entered the room the Son of Heaven rose and acknowledged our bows. He was at that time a tall youth with a bright eye and clear complexion: his demeanour was very dignified, well becoming the heir of a dynasty many centuries older than any other sovereignty on the face of the globe. He was dressed in a white coat with long padded trousers of crimson silk trailing like a lady's court-train. His head-dress was the same as that of his courtiers, though as a rule it was surmounted by a long, stiff, flat plume of black gauze. I call it a plume for want of a better word, but there was nothing feathery about it. His eyebrows were shaved off and painted in high up on the forehead; his cheeks were rouged and his lips painted with red and gold. His teeth were blackened. It was no small feat to look dignified under such a travesty of nature; but the sangre Azul would not be denied. When we had taken our places the Mikado addressed Sir Harry Parkes as follows: I hope that your Sovereign enjoys good health. I trust that the intercourse between our respective countries will become more and more friendly and be permanently established. I regret deeply that an unfortunate affair which took place as you were on your way to the Palace on the 23rd delayed this ceremony. It gives me great pleasure, therefore, to see you here today. Memories The Kyoto Exhibition Kyoto remained relatively inaccessible until the railway from Kobe and Osaka was completed in 1876. Among the first British to stay any length of time in Kyoto were the railway engineers, but the Kyoto Exhibition of 1872 attracted a few foreign visitors. One wrote an account of his visit in a letter dated 21 April 1872. He started by describing how to get to Kyoto:

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First, there are saddle horses to be hired at the rate of $4 the day. Secondly, there are jinrikisha the fare by which to Kyoto is $3 with a pourboire for the coolies. Thirdly, there are the long narrow mat-covered river passenger boats towed or poled by from two to six or even more sendoes [boatmen]. The hiring of these boats varies in price, according to the state of wind and weather and the number of the crew, from $3 the trip to $5 and upwards. These boats make daily voyages and are to be found leaving from rosy dawn to dewy eve loaded with ^passengers who pay a bu each, more or less, according to the superficial surface they may choose to occupy; those content with sitting — or say squatting — room paying so much less than those who indulge in room enough to lie down. Last, and under existing regulations, worst of all, are the steamers. Those huge floating glass cases of almost imperceptible draught are destitute of all privacy. I took a look over one a few days since, and found the fore and aft cabins thronged with over 120 passengers, the only other room space besides the engine room being a cabinet not 3 feet square. Add to this the dismay caused by the recent explosion, on the llth instant, of one of these very boats owing to the brutal carelessness or gross ignorance of the native engineer racing with a rival boat, and you will not wonder that on hearing of this I made up my mind to charter a tow boat. At the explosion in question four natives are reported to have been killed, three foreigners, who were on board having the good fortune to escape uninjured. The time occupied by the steamers in reaching Fushimi, the port of Kyoto, and beyond which neither they nor the tow boats can go, is about 8 hours on the average. A tow boat occupying 9, 11, 13 and more hours according to circumstances. In making the return voyage the force of the current enables a couple of men to propel a 20 koku [a measure of volume = 5.119 US bushels or 47.654 US gallons] tow boat in less time than the steamer takes to go up the stream to Fushimi. The distance to the latter town from Osaka is 10 ri or 25 miles. From Fushimi to Kyoto it cannot be more than six or seven miles, I should say. This final stage of my pilgrimage I performed in a jinrikisha drawn by two men in about an hour and a half - the roads being heavy with the recent rain. Coolies carry your baggage, the charge for jinrikisha with two men and two baggage coolies being from 6 to 8 bu. Although the river between Fushimi and Kyoto is not available for ordinary boats, special ones have been constructed. The hire of these from

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Kyoto is 4Vi bu. In conclusion, I advise all whose time is limited, to travel by boat and by night, by which means nearly two more days will be gained for exploring of this, one of the most interesting cities under the sun. A guard is sent with you from Osaka and a guard or guards in most instances follow you through the streets, but there really seems but little use for them; their sole weapon in this place being a stout oaken staff. The Far East, April 1872 The writer thought that Kyoto compared favorably in the width and cleanliness of its streets with any Japanese city he had seen, although it was not as well paved as Osaka. On his way to Maruyama park, where the 'native and French hotels' were situated, he found the streets 'a perfect blaze of colour' with oblong flags fastened to lofty bamboo poles in front of every house. These turned out to be in honour of a Sumo tournament, not the international exhibition. The Exhibition was in three parts — at Kenninji, the Chionin and the Nishi Honganji temples. The influx of foreign visitors expected by the Japanese had not taken place. There had only been a dozen or so foreign visitors in addition to the 'half a dozen of residents who are in Government employ' and another half dozen or so connected with them. None of those who had visited the exhibition, however, the writer was sure 'went away disappointed'. That, he thought, 'would be impossible to any man of taste or education'. At the entrance a notice in English declared that a set of passes for the three exhibition halls was 'one ryo for foreigners and IVz bu for natives' despite the promised 'free admittance' of the printed regulations. He first came to 'a number of articles in carved ivory' without any English inscriptions or prices, then to cabinets of ancient gold and silver coins, and to one of the half-dozen foreign exhibits. These included a fragment of one of the gigantic New Zealand moa bird's bones, photographs of the English royal family, a fire engine from Osaka, and chests of 'Mikado Tea' from Messrs Lehmann, Hartmann & Co. of Osaka! He then saw some enamel vases and bronze items including gongs, before coming to musical instruments, 'Chinese and Japanese, ancient and modern, sweet voiced and regular caterwaulers'. In the livestock department he found some pigs, a pair of peacocks and a few rabbits in cages. Next to this was the tea-room where every foreigner was invited to sit down and take a cup of tea. At the Chionin he found such interesting items as a 'skull of tiger' and a 'bill of a ken' (sword)'; 'but most marvellous of all was a box which bore the following inscription: "Tochin Kaso, this insect will change to grass when the summer comes"! A "three-footed frog" was a fitting wind up to such a jumble of oddities.' After viewing a

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collection of 'articles of food, biscuits, dried mushrooms, sea slugs, seaweed, etc.' he came to the department displaying toilet accessories. Then came various textiles including 'ancient tapestry'. Finally there was modern metalwork and swords and other weapons 'formerly worn by famous heroes of ancient times'. Some tourists in Kyoto In the next three decades the number of British tourists visiting Kyoto steadily increased as Japan became one of the objectives of enterprising globe-trotters. Major-General R. C. W. Reveley Mitford visited Kyoto in the 1880s: Leaving the station by a wicket where a smiling and bowing official took our tickets as if they had been 'tips' and passing between a couple of belaced and be-sworded policemen, we secured four out of the crowd of jinrikishas which were drawn up in the square outside, and at the words 'Ya-Ami's Hotel' the grinning coolies immediately started at racing pace. The road ran first along the bank of a swiftly-flowing canal, up and down which long, narrow, flat-bottomed boats were continually passing, and then it turned to cross the Kamo-gawa, a stream meandering in rivulets through a broad stony bed, but which was flooded by rain into an impetuous torrent before we left. . . . We noticed that the young Japanese woman when not 'made up' is a rather pretty little specimen of her species; but on gala occasions such as this, she bedaubs her face and distorts her features into an exact facsimile of the paintings on china, and is by no means improved thereby. The women here do not screw up their feet after the barbarous Chinese custom, but out of doors they generally wear wooden clogs, consisting of a toecap, a sole, and two cross-pieces underneath which raise the wearer two-and-a-half or three inches from the ground. On paved streets these clogs make a noise like a multitude of bullfrogs in full cry, and might have given Aristophanes the idea for his Frog Chorus, which exactly imitates their sounds. These, or the straw sandals before described, are the national chaussure of the Japanese of all ranks. It was a gay, bright, cheery scene, and we were much struck by the gentleness of the crowd and the merry, good-tempered expression on every face. Our jinrikisha men never pushed anyone, but kept continually shouting 'How! how!' and way was made without any fuss. The two ladies were a good deal stared at in an unobtrusive way, and many women held up their

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nurslings for a sight of the strange people, for a large proportion of the crowd had come in for the festival from solitary farms or distant villages, and had probably never beheld a European before. When we reached the foot of a hill at the back of the city, our road led up through a tea-garden in which the booths and arbours were being decorated for the evening entertainment, and then, leaving our jinrikishas at the bottom of some stone steps, we passed up on foot through a door-way into a pretty garden full of camellias, dwarf pines, goldfish tanks, and miniature bridges, then up another flight of steps to the door of Ya- Ami's clean, comfortable, and well-conducted hotel. This establishment was infinitely superior to the ordinary Japanese tea-house in which we afterwards spent so many nights, the difference being nearly as great as that between a first-rate London hotel and an ordinary village inn. We had rooms assigned us in a newly-built and still unfinished dependance, which was as clean and neat as a new band-box; the rooms were nicely papered (including the ceiling) with Japanese paper - gilt fans prettily scattered on the white ground — and were furnished with beds, chairs, tables, and washing- stands. Orient and Occident Yaami's Hotel in Maruyama Park was much favoured by foreign visitors in the last decades of the nineteenth century. It no longer exists. Another tourist who stayed at Yaami's Hotel was Rudyard Kipling. He came to Kyoto in 1889 on his way from India to the United States. He was still young and relatively unknown, but he was already a writer of great distinction and he had an evocative power of description: Very early in the dawn, before the nesting sparrows were awake, there was a sound in the air which frightened me out of my virtuous sleep. It was a lisping mutter — very deep and entirely strange. . . . The sound repeated itself again and again, till I argued, that if it were the precursor of an earthquake, the affair had stuck half-way. At breakfast men said: That was the great bell of Kyoto just next door to the hotel a little way up the hillside. As a bell, y'know, it's rather a failure, from an English point of view. They don't ring it properly, and the volume of sound is comparatively insignificant.'

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'So I fancied when I first heard it,' I said casually, and went out up the hill under sunshine that filled the heart, and trees that filled the eye with joy. . . . I stepped through the violet-studded long grass into forgotten little Japanese cemeteries - all broken pillars and lichened tablets - till I found, under a cut in the hillside, the big bell of Kyoto - twenty feet of green bronze hung inside a fantastically roofed shed of wooden beams. A beam, by the way, is a beam in Japan; anything under a foot thick is a stick. These beams were the best parts of big trees, clamped with bronze and iron. A knuckle rapped lightly on the lip of the hell — it was not more than five feet from the ground - made the great monster breathe heavily, and the blow of a stick started a hundred shrill-voiced echoes round the darkness of its dome. At one side, guyed by half a dozen small hawsers, hung a battering-ram, a twelve-foot spar bound with iron, its nose pointing full-butt at a chrysanthemum in high relief on the belly of the bell. Then, by special favour of Providence, which always looks after the idle, they began to sound sixty strokes. Half a dozen men swung the ram back and forth with shoutings and outcries, till it had gathered sufficient way, and the loosened ropes let it hurl itself against the chrysanthemum. The boom of the smitten bronze was swallowed up by the earth below and the hillside behind, so that its volume was not proportionate to the size of the bell, exactly as the men had said. I endured twenty strokes and removed myself, not in the least ashamed of mistaking the sound for an earthquake. Many times since I have heard the bell speak when I was far off. It says B-r-r-r very deep down in its throat, but when you have once caught the noise you will never forget it. From its house a staircase of cut stone takes you down to the temple of Chion-in, where I arrived on Easter Sunday just before service, and in time to see the procession of the Cherry Blossom. They had a special service at a place called St Peter's at Rome about the same time, but the priests of Buddha excelled the priests of the Pope. Thus it happened. The main front of the temple was three hundred feet long, a hundred feet deep, and sixty feet high. One roof covered it all, and saving for the tiles there was no stone in the structure; nothing but wood three hundred years old, as hard as iron. The pillars that upheld the roof were three feet, four feet, and five feet in diameter, and guiltless of any paint. They showed the natural grain of the wood till they were lost in the rich brown darkness far overhead. The crossbeams were of grained wood of great richness;

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cedar-wood and camphor-wood and the hearts of gigantic pine had been put under requisition for the great work. One carpenter - they call him only a carpenter - had designed the whole, and his name is remembered to this day. A half of the temple was railed off for the congregation by a two-foot railing, over which silks of ancient device had been thrown. Within the railing were all the religious fittings, but these I cannot describe. All I remember was row upon row of little lacquered stands each holding a rolled volume of sacred writings; an altar as tall as a cathedral organ where gold strove with colour, colour with lacquer, and lacquer with inlay, and candles such as Holy Mother Church uses only on her greatest days, shed a yellow light that softened all. Bronze incenseburners in the likeness of dragons and devils fumed under the shadow of silken banners, behind which, wood tracery, as delicate as frost on a window-pane, climbed to the ridge-pole. Only there was no visible roof to this temple. The light faded away under the monstrous beams, and we might have been in a cave a hundred fathoms below the earth but for the sunshine and blue sky at the portals, where the little children squabbled and shouted. . . . I went round the temple verandah to what we must call a vestry at the back. It was a big building connected with the main one by a wooden bridge of deepest time-worn brown. Down the bridge ran a line of saffron-coloured matting, and down the matting, very slowly and solemnly, as befitted their high office, filed three-and-fifty priests, each one clad in at least four garments of brocade, crepe, and silk. There were silks that do not see the light of the markets, and brocades that only temple wardrobes know. There was sea-green watered silk with golden dragons; terra-cotta crepe with ivory-white chrysanthemums clustering upon it; black-barred silk shot with yellow flames; lapis-lazuli silk and silver fishes; avanturine silk with plaques of greygreen let in; cloth of gold over dragon's blood; and saffron and brown silk stiff as a board with embroidery. We returned to the temple now filled with the gorgeous robes. The little lacquer stands were the priests' book-racks. Some lay down among them, while others moved very softly about the golden altars and the incense-burners; and the high priest disposed himself, with his back to the congregation, in a golden chair through which his robe winked like the shards of a tigerbeetle. In solemn calm the books were unrolled, and the priests

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began chanting Pali texts in honour of the Apostle of Unworldliness, who had written that they were not to wear gold or mixed colours, or touch the precious metals. . . . The chant quickened as the service drew to an end, and the candles burned low. Kipling visited Arashiyama during his stay in Kyoto: How I got to the tea-house I cannot tell. Perhaps a pretty girl waved a bough of cherry-blossom at me, and I followed the invitation. I know that I sprawled upon the mats and watched the clouds scudding across the hills and the logs flying down the rapids, and smelt the smell of the raw peeled timber, and listened to the grunts of the boatmen as they wrestled with that and the rush of the river, and was altogether happier than it is lawful for a man to be. The lady of the tea-house insisted upon screening us off from the other pleasure-parties who were tiffining in the same verandah. She brought beautiful blue screens with storks on them and slid them into grooves. I stood it as long as I could. There were peals of laughter in the next compartment, the pattering of soft feet, the clinking of little dishes, and at the chinks of the screens the twinkle of diamond eyes. A whole family had come in from Kyoto for the day's pleasuring. Mamma looked after grandmamma, and the young aunt looked after a guitar, and the two girls of fourteen and fifteen looked after a merry little tomboy of eight, who, when she thought of it, looked after the baby who had the air of looking after the whole party. Grandmamma was dressed in dark blue, mamma in blue and grey, the girls had gorgeous dresses of lilac fawn, and primrose crepe with silk sashes, the colour of apple-blossom and the inside of a newly-cut melon; the tomboy was in old gold and russet brown; but the baby tumbled his fat little body across the floor among the dishes in the colours of the Japanese rainbow, which owns no crude tints. They were all pretty, all except grandmamma, who was merely goodhumoured and very bald, and when they had finished their dainty dinner, and the brown lacquer stands, the blue and white crockery, and the jade-green drinking-cups had been taken away, the aunt played a little piece on the samisen [Japanese three-stringed instrument like a guitar], and the girls played blindman's-buff all round the tiny room. . . . They played puss-in-the-corner, their feet tied with blue and white handkerchiefs because the room did not allow unfettered freedom of limb, and when they could play no more for

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laughing, they fanned themselves as they lay propped up against the blue screens - each girl a picture no painter could reproduce - and I shrieked with the best of them till I rolled off the verandah and nearly dropped into the laughing street. From Sea to Sea and Other Sketches Not every globe-trotter, however, fell for the charms of Kyoto. The Hon. Lewis Wingfield declared that Kyoto, as dull and decayed now as an English cathedral town, is chiefly interesting to the modern traveller on account of its artistic manufactures. He commented that the suburbs of the old capital of vast extent were shambling regiments of wide and exceedingly squalid streets, consisting for the most part of tumbledown old pawnshops, and huts for the sale of cheap coarse toys. Even in the superior quarters the shops are mean and crazy, grilled with close vertical battens, which produce a sombre, prison-like effect and prevent you from seeing within. Wanderings of a Globe-trotter in the Far East

Mount Fuji Mount Fuji soon became as much of a symbol of Japan for the visitors as it had always been for the Japanese. The foreigners greatly admired the 'peerless beauty' of the mountain which, on a clear day in the 1860 and 1870s, they could see easily from Yokohama and Edo. The British, who have always liked to climb anything they can see, inevitably wanted to climb Fuji. Rutherford Alcock was the first to lead a British party up the mountain; in the summer of 1860 he planned his expedition. The Japanese authorities tried to prevent it from ever setting out and created as many obstacles as they could conjure up, but Alcock was determined not to be thwarted: August was already past and the first days of September were gliding on, while I was yet engaged in removing the obstacles raised by the Ministers themselves in the first instance, and admirably spread over time and space subsequently by their subordinates - with a fertility of invention and hardihood of persistence, which, if it did not .secure them success would in a better cause have entitled them to great praise. The Minister for Foreign Affairs told him: 'It was not fitting in a person of the rank of a British envoy to make the pilgrimage, limited by custom if not by law to the lower classes!' However in the end Alcock got his way and on 4 September a party of eight started from the British Consulate at Kanagawa (i.e. Yokohama) to reach and then climb Mount Fuji: Travelling in Japan, unless as a pedestrian and one of the unprivileged classes, is not altogether a simple matter; especially is it not so when a large party of Europeans go together, and intend to be away some weeks. Every additional unit added to the number involves transport and commissariat arrangements, which seem to increase, not in arithmetical but in geometrical rates of progression! Accordingly, before I mounted myself I marked with dismay a seemingly endless line of baggageanimals - indulging in the most vehement and eccentric protests against their burdens, which boded no good to anything fragile 197

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— and led horses issuing out of the gates accompanied by their keepers. Servants and followers of every denomination, under every imaginable pretext, had, I found, attached themselves, and apparently without limit, to the party. Near Odawara the party had to pass across the Sakigawa, a river Alcock noted, which divided into two branches as it approached the sea. It was subject to sudden floods so that 'over one of the branches it has been found impossible to maintain a bridge'. As a consequence and because the river lies across the main ro^d to and from Edo, a large body of porters - strong, brawny men - innocent of a drapery but a loincloth, are always in attendance to carry travellers across - the common sort on their shoulders, pick-a-back, the dignitaries, male and female, on short platforms borne by six men, with their arms crossed over each other's shoulders for greater steadiness. It would seem a tolerably lucrative monopoly; however, it has its drawbacks, for they are made responsible for the safety of their passengers; and if any accident happens to their burdens, they have nothing left but to drown with them, for no excuses are taken. Such is the theory and the law; I cannot so confidently speak of the practice. . . . Our stout porters carried us without demur across, though the water was surging round their hips in many places; but they seemed to know perfectly well where to pick their steps, and taking us in a zig-zag line up the stream, made their way without much difficulty. Our whole party were carried over for eleven ichibu - about 15s. - a large sum in Japan, to be divided amongst some thirty men for a half hour's work. When they reached Odawara, there was a great throng of people: A dense mass of swaying bodies and excited heads, which looked all the more formidable the nearer we approached. My guides, however, seemed perfectly unembarrassed, and well they might be, for when within a few steps of the foremost ranks, there was a wave of the fan and a single word of command issued, 'Shitanirio!' [kneel down] when, as if by magic, a wide path was opened, and every head dropped; the body disappearing in some marvellous way behind the legs and knees of its owner. Alcock's route took him across the Hakone mountains to Mishima, Numazu, Hara and Yoshiwara, where they turned off the Tokaido. The night before they began the actual climb they were

Around the Treaty ports: Mount Fuji 199 accommodated in a temple. The priests provided them with a good bath and had even improvised some stools for the party to sit on. They started the next morning in good weather. Their way at first lay 'through waving fields of corn'. Then they entered a belt of trees which gradually became thinner and they discarded the horses. They then began the main ascent over 'the rubble and scoriae of the mountain 5 . They reached some 'little huts or caves . . . partly dug out and roofed over to give refuge to the pilgrims'. In one of these they took up their quarters for the night. We laid down our rugs, too tired to be very delicate. Nevertheless, the cold and the occupants we found former pilgrims had left, precluded much sleep. Daylight was rather a relief, and after a cup of hot coffee and a biscuit we commenced the upper half of the ascent. . . . The first rays of the sun just touched with a line of light, the broad waters of the Pacific as they wash the coast, when we made our start. The first station seemed very near, and was reached within the hour; but each step now became more difficult. The path, if such the zig-zag may be called which our guides took, often led directly over fragments of out-jutting rocks, while the loose scoria prevented firm footing and added much to the fatigue. The air became more rarified and perceptibly affected breathing. At last the third station was passed, and a strong effort carried us to the fourth - the whole party by this time straggling at long intervals. This was now the last between us and the summit. It did not seem so far, until a few figures on the edge of the crater furnished a means of measurement, and they looked painfully diminutive. The last stage, more rough and precipitous than all the preceding, had this farther disadvantage, that it came after the fatigue of all the others. More than an hour's toil, with frequent stoppages for breath and rest to aching legs and spine, were needed; and more than one of our number felt very near the end of their strength before the last step placed the happy pilgrim on the topmost stone, and enabled him to look down the yawning crater. The Capital of the Tycoon According to Alcock they spent eight hours on the climb, but the descent only took just over three hours. They slept two nights on the mountain, and had been lucky with the weather. As they descended 'there was a thick Scotch mist, which soon changed into a drenching rain'. They had been warned that they were making the ascent outside the climbing season, but they had managed it! One of Alcock's party on this climb was Edward Barrington de

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Fonblanque. He thought that they had only taken six hours on the climb and commented sarcastically: 'It was curious to remark how some of our party, who had before shown themselves somewhat insensible to the beauties of nature, would now stop every few minutes to admire the scenery, generally seating themselves to do so.' At first they met with little snow, but as they climbed they found large patches here and there, 'and on reaching the summit, after four hours toil, the tubs of water near the temple were frozen into a compact mass.' However, the cold 'was not anything like what we had been led to expect'. At the highest point of the crater Alcock's 'standard-bearer unfurled the British flag, while we fired a royal salute from our revolvers in its honour, and concluded the ceremony by drinking the health of Her gracious Majesty in champagne, iced in the snows of Fuji-yama.' De Fonblanque enthused about the view: As we looked below and around us, we beheld the fair land of Japan like a highly coloured map, the points of its headlands jutting sharply into the blue sea, range upon range of mountains stretching across the full length of the island as far as the eye could reach, and rivers winding through green valleys, gradually increasing in size till they were lost in the sea. That one view would have richly repaid us for ten times our toil. Niphon and Pe-che-li In October 1867, even more outside the climbing season, Sir Harry and Lady Parkes made the ascent. Dr Willis described their experiences: My great piece of news is that I got to the top of Fujiyama, some 14,000 feet in the midst of snow and ice. We slept one night on the side of the mountain in a sort of cave and went over the top the following day walking about 30 miles. The party consisted of ten persons including Lady and Sir Harry Parkes. It was really astonishing how well Lady Parkes went through the fatigue. I don't believe ever a lady will ascend the said mountain in October. The country from here to Fujiyama is pleasant undulating land, and all went on smoothly up to the ascent. It blew hard during the first day with pelting showers of rain. The cave we put up at for the night was cold to an extreme degree. The noise of the storm outside was really terrific and altogether it was a night one would never forget. The weather was still bad next morning but improved after 10 o'clock and we got to the top about 1 o'clock. The cold was extreme. In the upper regions, exertion was very fatiguing. I cannot say that at any place was there danger with any ordinary care. Of course the heavy

Around the Treaty ports: Mount Fuji 201 suffer in such expeditions. I pressed the blood out under the toe nails partly from bad-fitting boots. The Japanese never ascend so late and it was looked upon as a dangerous proceeding on our part. The yakunin [officials] who accompanied us fell off as we got up and no-one of them got to the top; the cold, I imagine, was too great for them to bear. The Japanese are of course very poorly clad and this tells in such cases. I found I have miscalculated in this respect. Coolies carried up to the cave, where we remained the night, some provisions and some clothes, but both were too scanty. The cave was about 20 feet long by 10 wide, is built of masses of lava and allows the wind to whistle through it. We brought some charcoal and were able to make a fire. The mountain is a very nearly perfect cone, the base covered with a forest of fine timber of the pine family principally, then one gets to shrubs and, for several thousand feet near the top, all vegetation has disappeared and nothing but cinder-like lava on the surface, broken into pieces of various sizes. On the top there is a rim with a deep central cauldron. At present the mountain is quite extinct. On one side, if one had time and temperature would permit the use of one's hands, it is possible to explore the bottom of the cauldron, as the descent and ascent would be quite possible, but one would require to go up in July for that purpose and then one might remain on the top for the night. This would be difficult and dangerous so late on in the season as we ascended. Dr Willis in Japan The British were never people to pay much attention to commonsense advice about climbing seasons, or so it would seem in the case of Mount Fuji, as another party of climbers also made the ascent in the month of October. Captain B. W. Bax, RN, describes how he, the Captain of the flagship, and the Admiral's secretary, having obtained leave of absence started on 6 October 1873 'for a cruise inland'. They had the services of a Japanese interpreter whom they referred to as 'Gong' and another Japanese who 'acted as cook, packed up their luggage and bedding, secured it on a pack-horse and walked off in charge of everything' to their next halting-place. When they got to the mountain and had climbed to the 7th station they settled into a hut, but it was some time before they could get their fire going as 'the rascally tea house keeper' had supplied 'them with green wood instead of dry'. Their coolies made another fire for themselves at the other end of the hut. The place became in a short time so full of smoke that it caused the water to run from our eyes, and made us sneeze violently. It

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became so disagreeable at last that we were compelled to open our door to let the smoke out, to prevent being smothered, although we kept our faces as low on the ground as possible to get the purest air. As soon as the door was opened the wind and sleet blew in, and, to add to our discomfort, the heat of the fires caused the snow on the roof to melt and leak through, falling drop after drop on our faces when we tried to get a snooze. The next morning we were not sorry to see the day break, and to get some breakfast, and stretch our limbs to get the blood into circulation again. About 7 a.m. the snow ceased, and the clouds broke, giving us most lovely glimpses of the mountains, land, and sea beneath us. A glorious sight and not easily forgotten! The furious gale whirled the clouds in eddies beneath us, chased them round the mountain peaks, rent them in pieces, and hurled them in all directions. The sun tried to break through for a few minutes, but soon gave up the attempt in despair, and the snow-storm came on again as bad as ever. As soon as we were ready we started for the top of the mountain, which took us about two hours, in consequence of the snow making it very difficult to climb up, and causing us to slip back incessantly. All our coolies came with us, as it would be considered a meritorious action for them to make their pilgrimage in such trying weather. . . . After examining the crater at the top of the cone, and having paid our respects to the little joss-house dedicated to Buddha, we commenced to descend as soon as possible on account of the snow-storm, which now came on very thick; the wind was so strong that we found it difficult to keep our footing, and prevented us from examining the crater as much as we should otherwise have done. We therefore hastened down to the rest house, where we arrived in a very short time by sliding through the snow. We collected our things here as quickly as possible, and then took a different route down the mountain, where the ashes were quite small and loose, making the descent very rapidly in consequence, although it would be very difficult to ascend by that way. We soon got our blood intp circulation and recovered our spirits by the exhilarating effect of the rapid motion of going down - slipping, sliding, and jumping, with an occasional tumble and roll down the soft snow. By the time we got to the forest the storm abated. The Eastern Seas E. G. Holtham, a railway engineer, felt that like other British residents he too should make his pilgrimage to Mount Fuji:

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It was nine o'clock when we commenced the ascent, and by eleven we reached the upper limit of the trees, and encountered the slope of bare ashes, scoriae, and rocks, that forms the rest of the way. Travelling over this was very painful and slow, and the rainclouds surrounded us nearly the whole time, so that we had only a glimpse or two of the lower world to relieve the monotony. There was no water to be had above the fourth station, as the pilgrim season was on its last legs, and most of the upper rest-houses were closed; so we struggled on gloomily, reaching the lip of the crater at half-past four, and rewarding ourselves with a bottle of champagne. There was no view to be had, and there is nothing interesting in a degraded crater that has been quiescent for over two hundred years. Coming down proved worse than going up: However, though the boots held out, the legs didn't; but after plunging down a slope of loose ashes, at an average inclination to the horizon of nearly thirty degrees, for the distance to the trees, a drop of some five thousand feet, I had to pull up quite exhausted. It was falling dark, and I abandoned all hope of reaching the bottom of the hill upon my own legs. My companion, a man of lighter build, could have done it, I believe; but he waited for me, and we struggled down through the trees, by a path that would have necessitated some care in broad daylight and with good legs. This just about put the finishing touch to the proceeding, and on reaching what we thought was the third station from the bottom, by the aid of a lantern in which was burnt the only candle end we were provided with, I brought matters to a climax by finally taking off my boots, wrapping myself up in a rug, and going to sleep upon some planks then and there. A , who was enviably fresh and jolly, though he had been unwell all day, contrived to mix some chocolate, and woke me up to consume it; and with the addition of some compressed beef, we made a meal, and I went to sleep again. By dawn we were on our legs — but for their being my only ones, I would have sold mine cheap — and we reached the foot of the path at six o'clock, the village of Subashiri in another hour, and after a rest and breakfast, recovered our baggage at Gotemba before eleven. Here we got a delicious cold bath, and considered the mountain 'done'. Eight Years, in Japan 'A disgusting mass of humbug and ashes' was Holtham's considered opinion of the mountain. If Holtham found Fuji-San overrated and a bore, Sir Edwin Arnold maintained, or rather took to extremes, the enthusiasm of some earlier

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travellers. He was lucky with the weather. He went by the train which was then running from Tokyo to Gotemba where he engaged 'two-men rikisha to Subashiri, rolling along a rough but pretty country road, lined with pine and bamboo, and rice-fields where the early crop was already in ear.' At the inn, where he spent the night, he ordered three horses and six 'ninsoku' or 'leg-men', to carry 'the indispensable blankets and provisions'. They started at daybreak through a broad avenue in the forest, 'riding for five miles, under a lovely dawn, the sun shining gloriously on the forehead of Fuji, who seems farther off and more immensely lofty the nearer we approach'. At the 8th station they stopped for the night. They were glad to unpack their blankets and lie under them round the hibachi [charcoal stove] 'while such a meal as the mountain hut can furnish is being prepared. It consists of little else than small salted fish fried upon rice, but we supplement it with tinned provisions, and wash it down with weak whisky and water.' At half-past four next morning Arnold was aroused and the shoji [paper screens] were thrown open: I looked out, almost as you might from the moon, over a prodigious abyss of space, beyond which the eastern rim of all the world seemed to be on fire with flaming light. A belt of splendid rose and gold illumined all the horizon, darting long spears of glory into the dark sky overhead, gilding the tops of a thousand hills, scattered over the purple plains below, and casting on the unbroken backgrounds of clouds beyond an enormous shadow of Fuji. Moment by moment it grew more wonderful in loveliness of colour and brilliant birth of day; and then, suddenly, just when the sun rolled into sight - an orb of gleaming gold, flooding the world beneath with almost insufferable radiance — a vast mass of dense white clouds swept before the north wind over the view, completely blotting out the sun, the belt of rose and gold, the lighted mountains and plains, and the lower regions of Fuji-San. It was day again, but misty, white, and doubtful; and when we started to climb the last two stages of the cone the flags of the stations were invisible, and we could not know whether we should find the summit clear, or wrapped in enveloping clouds. All was to be fortunate, however, on this happy day; and after a hard clambering of the remaining 2000 feet we planted our staffs victoriously on the level ground of the crater's lip, and gazed north, south, east, and west through clear and cloudless atmosphere over a prodigious prospect, whose diameter could not be less than 300 miles. Seas and Lands

The Tokaido The Tokaido (literally the Eastern Sea Road) ran from Edo to Kyoto, a distance of approximately 292 miles, generally following the coast, except when it crossed the.Hakone mountains or the mountains west of Nagoya. The Tokaido became the main artery for traffic to Edo during the Tokugawa period and was in constant use by the Daimyo who under the so-called Sankin-kotai system had to spend alternate periods in Edo and in their fiefs. The Tokaido was made famous in the west by the prints of the fifty-three stages on the road by the great artist Hiroshige. An amusing account of what it was like to travel along the route in the Tokugawa period as an 'ordinary' citizen is contained in Hizakurige, a picaresque novel by Jippensha Ikku, translated by Thomas Satchell and first published by subscription in Kobe in 1929. The Tokaido was naturally used by the Dutch missions on their way to Edo from Nagasaki during the Tokugawa era. It was also used by the first British diplomats in Japan under the new treaties in the nineteenth century. Alcock described the Tokaido: The whole road is a scene of constant traffic. Pack-horses, and porters of luggage - travellers of the lower classes are here, in Kago with two bearers going at a swinging trot whenever they are entering a place - travellers of a higher order, male or female, in norimono, carried by four bearers, and going much more deliberately, as becomes the dignity of superior rank. This is not a country in which men of this generation may ever hope for the luxury of express trains, nor is time, apparently, estimated as a valuable commodity; hence, everything to be done, whether it be a journey, a bargain, or the transaction of any other business, is apt to be intolerably tedious. From one of these hostelries our horses have to be hired. The bargain is made at a most extortionate rate, and we are to pay ten ichibu, or more than three dollars, for a sorry brute, the cost price of which to a Japanese is not more than ten or twenty dollars, at the highest; that is, a day's use of an animal is, by this kind of tariff (adjusted for foreigners), equal to a seven days' purchase. The true price is from Is. 6d. to 3s. per diem; but such 205

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is the unconscionable extortion to which strangers are exposed. Travellers, when mounted, are accompanied by a man for each horse to bring it back, and seated on a high-peaked saddle with a sort of Turkish stirrup, in which the whole foot rests, the knees being brought to a right angle with the body. . . . The road, for the most part, is good — broad and level — but here and there macadamising is woefully wanted, one half the road rising in perilous abruptness, one or two feet higher than the lower edge. And in wet weather, the road which forms the main street through the town of Kanagawa itself, becomes a perfect quagmire. . . . Slowly we wend our way among horse and foot — men and women, children and dogs. The traffic seems to be great, and the travellers are of all classes. Through the streets of the town it requires very good steering amidst the light heels of the packhorses, the blocking-up of the passage by their loads, the gangs of coolies, and a constant stream of pedestrians and wayfarers of every denomination. Now it is a band of strolling musicians, who make up in noise and discord - as sometimes do greater professors - what they want in music and melody. . . . Here comes a train of the Daimyo himself — let us ride single file, and leave ample room — do what we may, in fact, to pass unchallenged and unmolested - if possible! No one can count with any certainty on success. First, are two not very reputable-looking runners, whose business it is to clear the road with the all-potent word which commands prostration - well, we cannot prostrate ourselves, notwithstanding that imperious gest [gesture] and truculent look. Now come some avant-couriers of a higher class, and behind them are the spearmen and personal officers of the noble. See how they eye us, and say if you think they are safe people to meet where they are a hundred to one, and are assured of immunity if they fall upon you and murder you on the spot? There, thank God and be grateful — they have neither drawn upon, nor even pushed us into the kennel, as they evidently felt more than half inclined to do; pray that you meet no more today, for,you may be less fortunate if compelled to run the gauntlet a second time. What! you think this unpleasant — learn that this is the tenure on which foreigners hold all their rights and privileges under treaty in Japan — the chance of being slain in the high road for no other offence than that of being there - where your presence is not desired. But here are more peaceable people, from whom there is nothing to be feared - the wwprivileged classes, unprivileged to kill or to plunder - civilians, merchants, shopkeepers,

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peasants — all as harmless and well-disposed people as can well be found in any country in the world. Here is one peasant going home with his marketing, and another slowly toiling on foot to the capital. After him a couple of fishermen going to their boats, with a kilt or something which does duty for one, and much the same pattern, only economically made of reeds. Approaching us is one of those remarkable figures said to be often disgraced officers, whose face is quite concealed under a sort of broad, deep-rimmed basket, for a hat - evidently too common a sight to attract attention, for the servant is passing him without a glance. Take care! we have a blind man here. 'How well he is dressed?' 'Certainly; he is no beggar, but well-to-do, and therefore dressed like a gentleman - but blind none the less, and feeling his way, while the peasant girl is watching to see he comes by no harm from our horses.' . . . Here we come to a wayside hostelry, and see that picture of zeal in a female ostler, who is hurrying, with well-poised body and a pail of water, to refresh the horses' mouths; while, on the other side, tea is offered in cups of dainty porcelain, thin as an egg-shell. Now we are leaving the great congress of tea-houses behind the inns and hotels of the Japanese offering everything that a Japanese traveller can desire, food, drink, shelter — a cleanmatted floor, a look-out on a little garden, or here, still better, over the bay. But, even if we may have all this, we know we cannot have a table, or a chair, or a bed — nor a mutton-chop, nor a cup of milk, nor a loaf of bread, for the simple reason that all these things are to the Japanese unknown, or ignored as superfluities. The shops, as we pass, do not present a very inviting appearance. For the most part, they are little better than roadside booths or stalls, offering for sale children's toys, having a marvellous family likeness with those of Europe — windmills, stuffed animals on wheels, tops, battledores and shuttlecocks. Here are others with cooked eatables; beyond, a shop with false toupees or wigs, umbrellas and hats, baskets, rain-cloaks and horse-shoes of straw, form the staple articles, all under one roof, the material being the same for most of them. Thus it happens that a Japanese equipped for a long journey looks as if he had taken the cover of a basket for his head-gear, a wisp of straw for his cloak, and a portion of another for his sandals. These, with a few of the ordinary village crafts, fill up the straggling line of houses. Once merged out of a bourg or township, we come upon a broad road lined with trees. The Capital of the Tycoon

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In 1867 Ernest Satow was allowed by Sir Harry Parkes to travel from Osaka to Tokyo along the Tokaido as Rutherford Alcock had done earlier. Satow was accompanied by Charles Wirgman, the Illustrated London News's correspondent in Japan. Satow recorded that he and Wirgman were by then so accustomed to living on Japanese food that they resolved not to burden themselves with stores of any kind, 'knives or forks, finger-glasses or table napkins'. Ponies were not procurable, so we bought a couple of secondhand palanquins, such as were used by public officials, and had them repaired. They cost the small price of 32 ichibu each, or not £4. The pole was a long piece of deal, called by euphemism paulownia wood. A cushion of silk damask, thickly stuffed with raw cotton, was spread on the bottom, and there was then just room enough to sit in it cross-legged without discomfort. In front was a small shelf above the window, and underneath a small flap which served as a table. The sliding doors also had windows, furnished with a paper slide to exclude cold, and another covered with gauze to keep out the dust while letting in the air. If it rained, blinds made of slender strips of bamboo were let down over the windows. The body of the palanquin could also be enveloped in a covering of black oiled paper, in which a small aperture was left for the occupant to peep out of, a blind of the same material being propped up outside; this arrangement was, however, only resorted to on days of persistent rain. Each of us had a pair of oblong wicker-work baskets to hold our clothing, which were slung at opposite ends of a black pole and carried by one man over his shoulder. My bedding, which consisted of a couple of Japanese mattresses covered with white crepe and edged with a broad border of common brocade, and one of the huge stuffed bedgowns of figured crepe with a velvet collar, with a couple of European pillows, was packed in a wicker box and formed a burden for two men. To each package was fastened a small deal board on which my name and titles were inscribed with Indian ink in large Chinese characters. As escort we had ten picked men belonging to the native legation guard and a couple of officials belonging to the Japanese Foreign Deparment were attached to us, who were instructed to make arrangements for our accommodation along the road. Last of all, a list was made out of the places at which we were to take our mid-day meals and sleep at night, the journey of 320 miles from Fushimi being calculated to occupy sixteen days. They left Osaka on 18 May by boat for Fushimi on the outskirts of Osaka, where they started their land journey. They were not allowed to enter Kyoto (Alcock on his journey had also had to make a similar

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detour) and they had to go via the Uji river to Otsu on Lake Biwa. They stopped for their first night on the road at the staging-post of Kusatsu: At last we turned round a corner, and passing through a black gate, before the posts of which were two neatly piled-up heaps of sand, flanked by buckets of water, were set down in the wide porch of the official inn. It was one of the most beautifully decorated buildings of its kind that I have ever seen. That implies woodwork of the finest grain, plaster of the least obtrusive shades of colour, sliding doors papered with an artistic pattern touched up with gold leaf and framed with shining black lacquered wood, and hard thick mats of the palest straw edged with stencilled cotton cloth. In the principal room, only twelve feet square, raised six inches above the rest of the house, lay two thick mats forming a sort of bed-place, where the distinguished traveller was expected to squat without moving. The baggage was deposited in the corridor which ran round two sides of the apartment. There was no view from the windows, which looked out on a small courtyard enclosed by a sulkylooking, black wooden fence. Etiquette prescribed that a great man should neither see nor be seen. Our host came in with a small present, and bowed his forehead to the sill. After a few minutes he returned to give thanks in the same humble manner for the gift of two ichibu which he had received as cha-dai [lit. in lieu of tea, i.e. tip]. We went in turn to the hot bath, where a modest, not to say prim, young damsel asked whether she might have the honour of washing our 'august' back, but not being trained from our youth up to be waited on by lovely females during our ablutions, we declined her assistance. At dinner time we ordered a dish of fish and a bottle of sake, which had to be several times replenished before the artist had had enough. The people of the inn were astonished to find that we could eat rice, having been taught to believe that the food of Europeans consisted exclusively of beef and pork. When we went to bed, soft silk mattresses in plenty were spread on the floor, and the chambermaid placed within the mosquito-net a fire-box with a bit of red-hot charcoal neatly embedded in white ashes for a last smoke, and a pot of freshly-infused tea. In Japan travellers are in the habit of making an early start. A native usually rises before day, makes a hasty toilet by scrubbing his teeth with a handful of salt from a basket hanging over the kitchen sink, washes his hands and face without soap, swallows a hasty breakfast, and is on the road as soon as the sun is up, or even earlier. His principal object is to arrive at the

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town where he is going to pass the night at as early an hour as possible, in order to secure a good room and the first turn at the hot bath, there being only one tub and one water for the whole of the guests. In some out of the way places this is not even changed every day, and I remember on one occasion to have found the bath absolutely green with age and odorous in proportion. We were not expected to do as the vulgar herd, and did not get away much before half-past seven. Our average rate of going was about three miles an hour, and the day's journey not over twenty miles, but there were so many interruptions that we rarely reached our evening's destination before six o'clock. First and foremost there was the mid-day meal which consumed at least an hour, and then our exalted rank required that we should stop to rest at least once in the morning and once again in the afternoon. Then we stopped again at every point of view to drink tea, and to taste every dish of cakes or other comestibles of which centuries of wayfarers had been in the habit of partaking before us. Satow and Wirgman had on the whole a reasonable journey until they came to Kakegawa where they stopped one night: Wirgman and I slept in separate rooms, Noguchi in a third, and all the escort but one were quartered at another house a little way off. At a quarter past one I was roused from sleep by a Japanese saying to me: 'Mr Satow, Mr Satow, get your sword; they've come.' My sword was an old cavalry sabre, not good for much but to make a show. I got up and groped my way through the black darkness to the sword-stand in the alcove and got the weapon. The Japanese led me by the hand, and we stood together in a corner of the next room, wondering what was going to happen. He said: 'I wish the escort would come.' Meanwhile violent noises were heard, as if of people breaking in. Bewildered by the darkness, I imagined them to be coming from the little garden at the back, on to which my bedroom looked. We remained still and breathless. In three minutes all was silent again, and I heard a voice cry 'Mr Satow'. It was Noguchi, who appeared with a light, and reported that the enemy had fled. Wirgman and my chancery servant Yokichi were nowhere to be found. The Japanese who had woken me proved to be Matsushita, the youngest of the escort. We proceeded then towards Noguchi's room; the wooden door opposite was lying on the floor, where the assailants had broken in. As we stood in the passage, others of the escort came in, all dressed in fighting mantles, with drawn swords in their hands

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and wearing iron forehead pieces. Seeing my scarlet sleeping trousers, they begged me either to hide myself or take them off, but the danger being past, I only laughed at them. Two of them went in search of Wirgman, and found him in an alley leading to the back of the house; they narrowly escaped being shot. We began to feel cooler, and Noguchi narrated what had happened. He heard the noise of the front door being broken down, jumped up, tied his girdle, and stood in the doorway of his room, a sword in the right hand, a revolver in the left. Some men approached and asked for the 'barbarians', to which he replied that if they would only come in, he would give the 'barbarians' to them. They took fright at his attitude and determined tone, and fled. Altogether there were, he thought, about a dozen, two armed with long swords, the rest with short ones. On looking about, we discovered that the mosquito-nets in the room diagonal to Wirgman's had been cut to pieces, the occupants having escaped. It was lucky for us that we had put out the lamps before going to bed, so that the assailants could not find their way. Wirgman explained that on being awakened by the noise of people breaking down the doors and shouting for the 'barbarians', he followed the people of the house, who took to their heels. A lantern that had been dropped by one of the 'ruffians' led to the conclusion that they belonged to the rei-hei-shi's [an official charged with the making of customary offerings from the Emperor at Shinto shrines] suite. No one was hurt, except one of the assailants, who in the hurry-scurry of running away was accidentally wounded by a companion. After everyone had related his own experiences, I retired to bed, while Wirgman called for sake and sliced raw fish, with which he and the escort regaled themselves until daylight. A Diplomat in Japan J. P. Mollison, then a young commercial trainee, described how in 1868 he visited a resort called Miyagishi in the Oyama range, not far from Yokohama, and on his way back to Yokohama on the Tokaido met a Daimyo's train: It was on our return journey, for of course we walked both ways, that we met the Daimyo's train. We were walking across the Atsugi plain when it loomed up in the distance, and with no means of getting out of the way, short of turning back, an action that we felt if they had sighted us might be misconstrued, there was nothing to do but go on and meet it. As it approached and we were recognized as foreigners, a halt was called, and the

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leaders motioned to us to take the left side of the road, which of course we did, although we knew we were thereby placing ourselves in the best position to be dealt the first and favourite Japanese sword-cut, usually given in the act of drawing. We also came to a halt and waited with some heart-fluttering for what was to happen next. The signal was given and the train moved on towards us. I forget its exact composition, but remember distinctly the leading and closing bands of twosworded men in the old-fashioned dress of the retainer of the time, with, I think, companies of archers between them, and the closed norimono in which were carried the Daimyo and his family, on their way, we afterwards learned, to the temples of Oyama. Nothing but scowling faces, it seemed to us, met our gaze the whole length of the train, for it must be remembered that not very many years before the Richardson affair had taken place on the Tokaido, for which a very heavy indemnity had been exacted, the latter fact probably known and resented throughout the length and breadth of Japan. However, nothing happened. We stood quietly with as unconcerned looks as we could command until the last samurai had passed, and then we resumed our way, with a feeling of relief that is more easily imagined than described. I remember telling Sir Harry Parkes of the experience and his expression of approval of our behaviour, because the slightest indication of offensiveness in attitude or manner on our part, he said, might have had the most serious consequences. 'Reminiscences of Yokohama'

Miyanoshita, Hakone and Atami In the early days of the Treaty ports, when travel was difficult and restricted, the area of the Hakone mountains and Atami were more accessible than most other places and became favoured resorts for the Yokohama community. Miyanoshita One of the first visitors to Miyanoshita was A. B. Mitford who went there probably in the autumn of 1869. He was not, of course, the first to visit the area - Alcock and Satow among others had passed that way - but he seems to have been one of the first British diplomats to holiday there. We must have gone some nine miles, as I should guess, since we left Odawara, when we reached the village of Miyanoshita, a most lovely spot lying lost among the hills. The little hamlet seems to be made up entirely of bathing-houses, which are also inns and shops for the sale of camphor-wood boxes, marquetry and toys of different sorts, very pretty and tasteful, which the bathers take home as keepsakes to their families. It is a most fashionable watering-place, a sort of Japanese Tunbridge Wells. I never saw a place in such complete repose; when we came upon it not a soul was stirring, not a dog barking; perhaps rest is part of the cure; at last I found a native who told me at which of the inns my friend was staying, and was lucky enough to be able to secure an apartment in the same house. Its charm quite passed my expectations. I was lodged in a beautiful clean set of rooms, with a balcony looking on to a lovely little garden full of dwarfed trees, rare shrubs and flowers, with quaint rockeries, and a pond full of gigantic goldfish and carp, grown old and fat and lazy under a long course of feeding at the hands of generations of bathers: behind the garden the mountain copses made a natural background of forest scenery. As I lay looking out on this pretty view, after a bathe in the hot water welling from the living rock, I was lulled almost to sleep by the splashing of a neighbouring water-wheel. Mitford's Japan 213

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According to J. P. Mollison, Sir Harry and Lady Parkes, with H. S. Wilkinson, then a student interpreter and later Chief Judge of the Consular Court in Shanghai and Yokohama, a couple of army officers, Mollison and some others, visited Miyanoshita and Hakone in the early summer of 1868. [The date is slightly surprising as the civil war was not yet over.] Mollison described the trip: Two members of the Legation Guard, without whom Sir Harry never went out into the country in those days, accompanied us, one being the late trusty Pet. Peacock of the British Legation, Tokyo. There were no jinrikishas, of course, then, whilst carriages were few and far between, and the only way of getting about was on horseback. Lady Parkes, I may say, was a splendid rider and enthusiastic horsewoman. We took the country paths across the hills to Totsuka, joining the Tokaido there and continuing along that highway to Odawara without incident, except that a child was run over by Lady Parkes when going at a fast canter through the village of Hiratsuka. This necessitated the pulling-up of the whole cavalcade. I remember there was quite a scene, and it was only after long discussion with the villagers, through Mr Wilkinson, that the matter was ended satisfactorily by a monetary payment. Soon we reached the Odawara River, which was in flood, and over which we were carried by coolies on stretchers supported on their shoulders. At the town of that name we stopped for the night, and walked up the pass of Hakone next day, stopping for tiffin on the way at the village of Hata, the chief tea-house of which was then in its zenith, and a beautiful specimen of the Japanese hotel. A picturesque garden, rocks, ponds and natural waterfalls from the mountains at the back, formed a sight new to all of us and met, I remember, with our most uhbounded admiration. At Hakone we stopped at Kashiwaya, a large tea-house . . . Sir Harry used practically to transfer the legation there for the summer months. A delightful walk over the hills to Atami, and thence by man-of-war, the Argus, to Yokohama, ended my first country trip in Japan, an altogether delightful one. It was after that that Hakone was the scene of a battle between the soliders of the Mikado and the Shogun, and on my next visit, a year late/, the large red gates and guard-houses at either end of the village, since removed, were found to be full of, bullet-holes, which we naturally examined with much interest. Miyanoshita at that time was practically unknown to foreigners, the only one who had visited it being the late Mr Wirgman, of Japan Punch fame. The second, I believe, was a

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man in my own office, Mr Barrow, and a word or two about his trip may not be uninteresting. Rumours had reached us of the charms of what was talked-of amongst Japanese as a delightful resort in the mountains, so Mr Barrow determined to investigate it and this was the way he set about it. His only companion was a large black retriever named 'Jack'. I remember as if it were yesterday his start on a fine morning in May with a knapsack on his back and Jack at his heels. His object was to find Miyanoshita on foot, and although it was considered a very venturesome thing for one man alone to take such a trip he reached his destination without incident, meeting, as the saying is, no one worse than himself, and receiving the greatest politeness from the numberless Japanese he met on the Tokaido, and every attention of the villages where he stayed the two nights he spent on the way. Jack was a constant source of wonder and delight to the villagers of all ages, who had of course never seen a dog of the kind before. He proved to be a sort of passport to their goodwill, because of his good temper, obedience and docility, in spite of his huge size. I remember Barrow telling me that to Jack he attributed the great success and enjoyment of his trip. From Miyanoshita he wrote that he had found a perfect Paradise in the hills, and the accounts he gave us afterwards of delightful experiences so excited our interest that a party of four, Jack Fraser, Henry Barlow, Adolf Milsom, and myself made the trip the following year, and found that Barrow's description had in no way exaggerated things. Miyanoshita was then a small village with only one tea-house, but that a very large and beautiful one, Naraya's. Past its massive, black, torii-like gate [a torii is a gateway before a Shinto shrine] ran the pathway, with the wooded hill now cut to the top by a winding path from Fujiya's, starting directly opposite at a distance of a few feet. Fujiya's was undreamt of, in fact the village consisted practically of Naraya's, with a few scattered houses, and one or two shops for the sale of carved wood-work, which is still such a feature of the present-day at Miyanoshita. Of course such a thing as foreign food was unknown, and we had to take supplies of every kind with us on packhorses, which were sent on a day or two ahead of us in charge of boy and cook. I am reminded here that on that occasion we hired a waggonette to take us to Odawara and back, the charge for which was fifty Mexican dollars, then worth in the neighbourhood of 4s. or 4s. 6d. or say £10 sterling. 'Reminiscences of Yokohama'

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Sir Edwin Arnold was as enthusiastic about Miyanoshita as he had been about Mount Fuji: To inhale that air, and to bathe in the soft waters heated for you in the subterranean furnaces, is the main business of life in this hill village. The only industry of the place, apart from guides, teahouses, and waiting musume, is the manufacture of all kinds of small articles from the wood of the various timber trees growing on the hills around. Some of these are of incredible ingenuity in construction and neatness of finish, making the most elaborate work of Tunbridge Wells utterly commonplace. Many of the woods employed, such as the camphor, the ivy, the kaki, kari, and sendan, are of great beauty, and there seems to be almost nothing that a Japan turner cannot produce from them. He sells you, for a few sen, a box of ivy wood delicately grained and polished, containing a dozen lovely little saucers of the same material; or a lunch-box which folds into next to nothing until you want it, and then expands into a complete and handsome table service. Sellers of photographs are also numerous, and softly importunate, for the Japanese have become very skilful with the camera. When you have purchased all the photographs and wooden knick-knacks which you desire, the next thing is to organize excursions into the wild and beautiful wilderness of mountains everywhere surrounding you. These must be performed either on foot or in chairs lashed on bamboo poles, and carried upon the shoulders of four of the sturdy hill-men of the district. The paths are very steep and narrow, and the foothold often merely the loose stones of a mountain stream. Yet the sturdy ninsoku [coolies] trudge along, up hill and down dale, in their sandals of rope, apparently insensible to fatigue, or sufficiently refreshed from time to time by a cup of pale tea and a sugar biscuit, and willingly accepting fifty sen, or about eighteenpence, for a tremendous day's work. With a thin blue calico coat, a blue handkerchief tied round the closecropped head, and their small brass tobacco pipes stuck in their girdles, they chatter gaily as they trot along under the bamboo poles, shifting these every now and then from shoulder to shoulder with a little harmonious murmur of 'Go-issho', which means 'at the same honourable time', 'all together boys'. Arrived at the teahouse, they patiently pick from their legs the leeches which have fastened there in the wet and narrow forest paths, wipe the profuse perspiration from their brown necks, smoke a pipe or two, and slowly sip a cup of the 'honourable hot tea', and are then ready to trudge on again for another ri under their heavy burdens. Seas and Lands

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Douglas Sladen was equally enthusiastic in the 1890s: Miyanoshita is the Brighton of Japan; not that it is in the least like Brighton in any respect, except that of being the holiday resort for weekends and Whitsuntides and Easters. Between Easter and Whitsuntide you get it at its loveliest, and words will not paint that to the stay-at-home European. In scenery, Miyanoshita is more like the valley of the upper Teign on Dartmoor than anything else in England. It has just such a clear, brown river rippling over a bed of mossy stones through gorges with wooded sides, in the folds of the h0il......ls The whole thing is a picnic. We went from Yokohama to Kozu in the train, changed into the horse-tramway for Yumoto, and there got into rikishas for Miyanoshita. It was not all so pat as it sounds, for the horse-tramway ran off the rails at short intervals; and, as it had nothing but the soft sand to run into, the passengers as well as the employers had to help to put it on the rails again. And when we started from Yumoto, we were not allowed the smallest article of baggage with us - that had to be carried by porters, some or most of whom were women, on frames like glaziers use for carrying glass. It was, we were told, because the climb was so steep, which seemed an odd reason for making a woman carry a Saratoga on her back. Queer Things about Japan Hakone Rutherford Alcock visited Hakone in 1860 in the course of his expedition to climb Mount Fuji. He was more interested in sounding the depth of the lake than in the scenery. No boat was available for the purpose. The sekisho [barrier] set up by the Tokugawa Shogunate was at Hakone. There officials had to check that arms were not being smuggled in, nor the Daimyos' wives and children smuggled out. In 1867 Ernest Satow noted that at the guard-house, where they had to show their passports, there was a notice-board which declared that, among other provisions, 'dead bodies, wounded persons, and individuals of suspicious aspect were not allowed to proceed without the production of a passport.' On his way back overland via the Tokaido to Edo in 1867 (see above pp 208-11), Satow noted that he had intended sleeping at Hakone, but owing to delays for sketching, to say nothing of a huge feast of broiled eels and sake, he did not manage to get beyond Mishima. So next morning they started at half-past six to ascend the pass. It was an excellent road paved with huge stones after the manner of the Via Appia where it leaves Rome at the Forum, and lined

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with huge pine-trees and cryptomerias. At a tiny hamlet more than half-way up some hunters came to present us with eggs, according to immemorial custom. Three hours brought us to Hakone, the little mountain village standing on the southern border of the lake, surrounded by steep grassy hills. The warmth of the day tempted me to take a bath in the lake, which at first was strongly opposed by the foreign official [the Japanese official responsible for foreigners] with us. It appeared that no boats were allowed on the lake, nor was anyone permitted to swim in it, lest he should take the opportunity of swimming round at the back of the barrier gate, and so avoid the necessity of showing his passport. With considerable trouble I persuaded the objector to withdraw his opposition, by representing that my natatory powers were altogether insufficient for the purpose. A Diplomat in Japan After a couple of hours they resumed their journey towards Yokohama. By the time that A. B. Mitford visited Hakone in 1869 he was able to take a boat across from the shrine on the eastern side of the lake to the 'little town of Hakone'. Mitford declared that in the days of the Shogunate the penalty for trying to avoid the barrier by using a mountain path was death by crucifixion. At the entrance of the town was a guard-house, strongly manned, flanked by a formidable stand of arms, holding spears and hooks and the other paraphernalia of Japanese police, on passing which every person, save only those of the very highest rank, was required to dismount and do obeisance to the representatives of Tycoonal power. The guard-house is swept away now, together with the other encumbrances and annoyances of the obsolete Government, and men may come and go as they please. It is more convenient, to be sure, but there were a quaintness and picturesqueness about the old customs which the travellers who follow in our steps will miss. Memories When Sir Edward Reed was passing through the Hakone district in 1879 the scene had not changed much. He noted that the road up the pass from Mishima was pillared on either side throughout with ancient pine-trees, that make it like a vast continuous cathedral aisle, but unlike all human architecture in its ascents and descents, in the twisted, contorted earth-grasping character of its column pedestals, and

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in the shifting lights and shadows that stream through its rustling roof. Occasionally we heard the melodious notes of the uguisu, a wood-bird much celebrated in the poetry of the country. Our hard walk over the mountain was relieved by frequent stoppages for rest and the slight but welcome refreshment of a cup of Japanese tea. There were numerous tea-houses by the way, and at any of them this could be got; but having the honour of travelling with a cabinet minister of the country, and one of the most thoughtful and kindly of hosts, our necessities had all been anticipated by his officers, or by those of the Ken or county. On the other side of the pass Reed, who had been ill, travelled in a kago or palanquin. He did what he could to prevent himself going to sleep, but the easy, synchronous, sonorous movements of the kago, the lulling though half-sibilant voice of the torrent, the soothing beauty of the green aisle through which one was gliding, and, most of all, the fatigue of a long mountain walk succeding a short night's sleep, were sometimes overpowering, and I had to yield to them. When they reached Yumoto, below Miyanoshita, they arrived at a new, and as yet unfinished, hotel, with a European-looking exterior and a purely Japanese interior. [The landlord Mr Saiko] did not like Europeans or Americans . . . because while he takes a great pride in having it [his hotel] clean and bright, and in perfect Japanese order, they have not the good manners to take their boots off and behave as becomes the place. Therefore he objected very seriously to my son and myself going there as involving an infringement of a rule which he intended to be absolute and to maintain unbroken, and how his objection was got over I don't know. Japan: Its history, traditions and religions After his exhausting climb up Mount Fuji (see above, pp 202-3) E. G. Holtham found, at about the same time as Reed was there, that western supplies were available at Hakone and that, there was no objection to swimming in the lake: Blessed be the name of Hakone! for here I found beer, my dealings with which, at the exorbitant price of sixty cents a bottle, scandalized poor A— horribly. We had been trying to do hard work upon thin claret, to which I attributed in secret my

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breakdown, and the reaction was startling. Poached eggs and a pipe had nothing incongruous about them after this, and we slept like two men. In the morning we had a plunge and swim in the lake, most refreshing and delightful in the sunrise; and we barely refrained from hauling in the attendant maiden who held our towels and slippers, she was so dirty, though otherwise no doubt all that a tea-house maiden should be. We noted in the visitors' book her peculiarities, with a suggestion that in wet seasons (as this was) she and others like her might be allowed to wash if possible not less often than once every other day. In dry seasons the lake would perhaps have become discoloured, as it is only about five miles long by two broad, and, except in one place, can be proved to have a limited depth. Eight Years in Japan

Atami

Today Atami is vulgar and brash, and it is hard to imagine what it was like in the second half of the nineteenth century. Rutherford Alcock called there for a few days after his expedition in 1860 to Mount Fuji: The spas of Atami are not gay as a place of residence. Beyond the interest attaching to the study of village life in Japan, there is nothing whatever to amuse or give occupation. It has an agricultural and fishing population of some 1,400 souls. They cultivate their fields of rice and millet and a few vegetables. The bay provides them with fish... . There are a few shops in the place for the sale of some of the more common necessaries, the few things which are alone required in their very simple mode of life. The only manufacture is that of paper, and the making of boxes of many devices, cups, platters, trays, and a few toys.. . . The mineral springs are spread over a considerable space, bubbling up in divers places over the spot where a source exists. Near several of these, and in connection with the source, a few stones are placed so as to allow the steam to escape, and here they boil their tea and cook their vegetables without expenditure of fuel. There are wooden baths at all the places, but they did not seem in very constant requisition. The Capital of the Tycoon Murray's Handbook for Travellers in Japan (1894) declared: 'Atami is most easily reached from Yokohama by the Tokaido Railway as far as Kozu, ll/2 hours, and then by jinrikisha for the rest of the way, nearly five hours, along the coast. The road is delightfully picturesque and representatively Japanese.'

Around the Treaty ports: Atami 221 Mary Fraser went to Atami for her health in August 1889: The day was nearly done when we at last reached the strange little village by the sea. It lies in a bay of its own, which sweeps inwards to the land in a lovely curve. The beach is narrow, for the houses climb down in terraces almost to the water's edge, and every street seems to lead but that one way. A plain of green rice-fields runs back from the town, rising gradually towards a horseshoe of hills, which close in the horizon on every side save one, and run high spurs into the sea on either hand, so that one is fairly cut off from the rest of creation. But from the beach outwards a great stretch of water rests the eye; there is a splendid roar of breakers on the shore; and far away, on the sun-touched edge of the world, a misty island [Oshima] floats in the haze, and sends up a constant jet of thin smoke from its volcanic mouth. She described the 'great wonder of Atami, the admirable geyser, which has made the prosperity of the place': Do not laugh at the adjective, which is really the right one. This spring bursts up in the middle of the village, only a few hundred yards from the shore, with an outbreak of boiling water, and such a thunderous roar of steam that it can be heard far away, while its thick, white smoke-cloud hangs over the place long after the spring has sunk back to the heart of the earth. I have been standing close to it, and felt the earth quiver under my feet even before the voice of its coming had reached the surface. Its mouth is arched over for a little way, in order to direct the outburst toward the canals which lead off to the different bathing establishments, and to the tank where it is collected to form an inhaling-room for those who are suffering from chest and throat troubles. Before this roof was laid over it, I believe it rose two or three yards in the air, and of course much was wasted. As it is, the scalding flood which rushes out from the low tunnel is a terrific phenomenon, filling the world for the moment with fearful noises and choking sulphurous steam. She was charmed by Atami: a seaside nest lying in the arms of two green hills, that slope down on either side of it (fragrant with lilies just now) to the gentle sea, that breaks in one long roll day and night on the smooth sands. Just where the hills meet the sea on either side is an attempt at a rock and a precipice; but even these are all gay with ferns, and lilies orange and white, so there is no effect of ruggedness. . . .

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I noticed yesterday that the village seemed more animated than usual, and the people were hanging red and white lanterns on long strings from high poles down to the ground, and the houses in the chief street were all outlined with them, blowing about violently in a tearing breeze from the day. Strange-looking groups formed at the street corners, and immense excitement prevailed in and around a kind of barn, whose doors, thrown wide, showed a high car being decorated with wreaths and lanterns. An enormous drum stood in one corner, and was being doctored by a specialist, who kept banging the end with a bit of bamboo to see if it sounded loud enough. Little boys were jumping about, screaming and playing, and getting in their elders' way with the complete security of children who are never scolded. Booths had been set up in the street, and all the shops were displaying their most tempting wares. At lunch, Ogita [her factotum] brought a message from our landlord to say that he was afraid his 'rough and ignorant countrymen' would make a great deal of noise in the evening; but he had informed the police that they must on no account let it go on too late, for fear of spoiling our honourable rest. This civility quite overcame me; but to tell the truth, Atami was almost too quiet for me, and I thought, what I was ashamed to say, that a little excitement would make a pleasant change. A Diplomatist's Wife in Japan

Kamakura Kamakura, the capital of Japan in the thirteenth century during the rule of the Minamoto Shogun, was easily accessible from Yokohama and could be visited in a day. From the earliest days of the settlement it was therefore a popular excursion from Yokohama, although it was the scene of murder in 1864, when Major G. W. Baldwin and Lieutenant R. N. Bird were assassinated not far from the Hachiman shrine. The first British visitors to Kamakura were not particularly impressed. Anna d'A. declared that it looked 'merely a straggling village'. Robert Fortune also thought that Kamakura did not give the appearance of having once been a capital town. It was 'simply a country village, with a few mean shops and some good inns or teahouses'. Jephson and Elmhirst described a visit to Kamakura by a group of young British officers from the garrison. Their chief, 'ever mindful for the welfare and happiness of his boys', set every Thursday apart 'for purposes of enjoyment and recreation'. One Thursday, a party of young officers decided to pay a visit to Kamakura. They assembled in the mess at six o'clock in the morning for an early breakfast. 'One by one we came dropping in, all breeched and booted, and with revolvers in our belts, in obedience to a strict order that this weapon was to be invariably carried on all long trips into the country.' After we had done ample justice to our grill, R— reminded us, in rather energetic terms, that we were wasting the sunny hours; and taking advantage of his position as guide, declared his intention of waiting for no man. Lighting his cheroot, and mounting his chestnut pony, he started off at a steady jog-trot, followed by the remainder of the party, amidst much bustle and confusion, and many inquiries as to 'Why the devil he couldn't wait until a fellow lit his cheroot?' or, 'Where the deuce is my revolver?' About three miles from their camp R— pulled up, 'and pointing to a bridge, told us it was the scene of the murder of a Frenchman about three years before.' Their first halting-place was

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at a house about seven miles on our way, where we were received by roars of laughter from the old women, and a general 'scuttling away' of the young ones. The reason of this was soon apparent. R—, who was well known here, was looked upon as a tearing wag in his way, and his appearance was hailed as the prelude to some exquisite joke which was soon to follow. His first little pleasantry after the storm of 'Ohio donezan's!' etc. [Ohayo, Danna-san] [Good day, gentlemen!] was over, was to feign a burning and consuming passion for the old lady of the house, an old okami-san [married woman] aged about seventy; and when he brought this performance to a close, by pretending to give her a tender and impassioned kiss, he regularly brought the house down, the most demonstrative and noisiest in testifying their delight being the old woman herself and her husband: the latter was quite beside himself. For the next few miles after leaving this tea-house, they passed 'through a succession of lovely Devonshire-like lanes, with camellias growing luxuriantly on either side.' It was when the scene was at its loveliest, the hedges at their greenest, and the sun at its brightest, that we descried coming along in the distance a laughing, merry group of Japanese. When we met them, they turned out to be a troupe of conjurers and top-spinners, on their way to Yokohama. Here was an opportunity of amusement not to be lost; and on the promise of a few ichibu, they declared themselves ready to give us their whole repertoire. A shady, grassy spot, with a green bank for seats, and a level sward, was soon found just off the road, and after tying up the ponies, we sat or laid ourselves down to watch the performance. This was the first time they had ever acted before foreigners, and we seemed to be a source of infinite amusement to them; for their preparations, as they laid out all their paraphernalia on the ground, were gone through amidst much giggling and furtive glances at us. They performed the usual Japanese tricks, consisting of top-spinning in every variety, juggling, the butterfly trick, and many others. About three or four miles from the village of Kanazawa we arrived at Kamakura, where we stopped, for the purpose of visiting the temples, for which this locality is famed throughout the length and breadth of Japan, and to which pilgrims flock from all parts of the country at certain seasons of the year. The temples, as regards general outline of form, are very similar to all other sacred edifices in Japan; but in size, costly carving, and number, they far surpass anything of the kind to be seen out

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there. The entrance to the sacred ground consists of three arched stone bridges, very much in the willow-pattern style, over a moat which was covered with lotus plants and water- lilies. So very arched are these bridges - very nearly a semi-circle - that our passage over them was made holding on to the sides. Of course to the Japanese, with their straw, sandal-like shoes, it is all plain sailing. We here found two adventurous midshipmen endeavouring to urge their ponies over a bar, which was placed at the highest point of the arc of one of the smaller bridges. The four-legged animals, however, showed that they possessed infinitely more sense than the two-legged ones, by declining to have anything whatever to do with such an absurd proceeding, notwithstanding a pretty liberal application of whip and spur, accompanied by many terms of endearment. How the difference of opinion ended we know not, as we walked on, leaving them to their own devices. Just outside a gateway forming a second entrance, we were taken to see two sacred ponies, who appeared to lead anything but a stirring, active life. Perpetually caparisoned in the most grotesque manner, they are never taken out of their stalls, nor even allowed to lie down, being slung from the roof of the stable. The object of this is, that they are supposed to be ready at a moment's notice for the god of war, in the event of that deity taking it into his head to ride abroad. We forgot to ask whether he was expected to ride them both at the same time, circus fashion. .. . The next step to take, if you wish to do Kamakura thoroughly, is to buy at the inner gate, from an old woman who is rather empressee in her efforts to effect a sale, a map or plan of the place, on which all the temples, shrines, and other objects of interest are marked, if not with accuracy, still with sufficient correctness to serve as a tolerable guide. We do not recollect any one temple striking us with any very great admiration or wonder: it was only taken collectively that they assumed an appearance of anything like grandeur. One particular object, however, we remember, which was worthy of notice, though it would be out of place to give more than a very cursory one in these pages. Suffice it to say, that it was a stone about four feet high, in the formation of which Nature seems to have been actuated by most improper feelings. A visit to it, and the observance of certain ceremonies in connection therewith, are believed amongst the lower orders of the Japanese at once to confer on the female suppliant the blessing of an heir-apparent, however she may hitherto have hoped against hope.

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It is the custom for every lady who has visited this peculiar shrine, and benefited in the way above specified, to plant near it a bamboo stick in the ground, with her name inscribed on a rag fluttering from the top, in testimony of its wonderful powers. Our Life in Japan This stone seemed to arouse the particular interest of British visitors - perhaps it appealed to them because of their generally prudish attitude to sex! Robert Fortune, for instance, noted that the stone was curiously formed by nature, and apparently assisted by art. He added: Ladies came from afar to worship it, and at the same time to turn their faces towards the holy mountain, which is said to be one of the conditions to ensure a successful issue. A box is duly provided for the reception of offerings. Yedo and Peking A. B. Mitford in a letter to his father dated 24 December 1866 said of Kamakura: The show of the place is a large stone, of great sanctity and sovereign virtues, called the 'o-mankosama'. Nature has wrought it into the shape of the lower part of a woman's body; and hence it is supposed to contain certain properties. Barren women come from long distances and rub themselves against it, a process which is sure to relieve them of the stigma which attaches to a childless woman all over the East. I never heard of a similar superstition elsewhere, but there is a temple nearby where men keep up a sort of worship of the phallus; childless men flock to it offering each a phallus great or small, according to his taste. The general appearance of the place I leave to your imagination. Mitford's Japan Every visitor to Kamakura also went to the Daibutsu [big Buddha] and many clambered over it. All were impressed by the calm serenity of this magnificent bronze statue dating from the twelfth century. One admirer was Rudyard Kipling who in 1892 wrote the poem, 'The great Buddha at Kamakura', which he used in Kim (1901).

Nikko The tombs of the first and third Tokugawa Shogun are at Nikko which lies some ninety miles from Tokyo to the north-east in the foothills of mountains in what is now Tochigi prefecture. Above Nikko in an area known as Oku-Nikko, are Lake Chuzenji and Mount Nantai. I have not found any accounts of visits to Nikko by British visitors between 1858 and the fall of the Bakufu in 1868 and presume that owing to the nature of the Nikko monuments and the problems of travel, permission to visit Nikko, if requested, was not given. F. J. Dickens, in the life of Sir Harry Parkes which he and S. Lane Poole published in 1894 stated that in May 1870 'the wild and picturesque tract of Nikko was "opened", to use a Japanese expression, by Sir Harry, accompanied by Lady Parkes, and the great temples and monuments of the founders of the Tokugawa dynasty were for the first time fully revealed to foreign wonder and admiration.' That is all that Dickens has recorded of this 'historic' journey. The Far East published in Yokohama on 1 April 1873, contains an account of a trip to Nikko made in the summer of 1872 by an anonymous gentleman. If his account is to be believed he made the journey without authority. I knew it was useless asking permission either of European or Japanese authorities, and I believed that to mention my intention of going so far in that direction beyond Treaty limits, would be to ensure instructions being sent forward to officials at the different places I must pass, to look out for me and prevent my advancing. I therefore kept my own counsel, laid my plans, and in the middle of June set out on my expedition. Packing up some photographic material with the rest of my baggage, I engaged a native boat to take me to Edo, and as far up the river Sumida as we could manage to go. I had two Yokohama coolies with me to carry my encumbrances, and we embarked at about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, hoisting sail to a spanking breeze which we carried to Shinagawa, but here it left us and we came to an anchor for the night. . . . Next day we made some progress up the river but found the stream very strong, indeed on the following day in many places it ran some 5 or 6 miles an hour; 227

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and not only had we to use our sail, already filled with a strong favouring breeze, but we had to resort both to sculling and towing. During that night it rained hard and the author wondered whether to take to the road, but 'thinking that the further I got before I came to any yakunin the less likely I was to be turned back, the resolution was taken to go as far by water as I possibly could.' That day he managed to reach a branch of the river about 4 ri below Ishido. The current not being so strong in this branch, I rejoiced in a delightfully refreshing bathe after a screaming hot day. The mosquitoes were, however, very troublesome at night as I had not thought of bringing a net. . . . The next morning the current was so strong, the bottom of the river so muddy (for punting), and the progress so slow, that we only reached Ishido at 6 o'clock in the evening. He made up his mind to go on by road, packed up his traps and sent the boat back. The day turned out very hot, and I found that my two coolies were unequal to the task of carrying the baggage - the principal and heaviest part of which was the photographic apparatus, etc. - long distances. I therefore engaged another man here; and so came on the Nakasendo to the town of Konosu. Now I was to discover what treatment I was likely to receive at the hands of the officials at the guard-houses. As the first one was reached, I put on (or tried to) a look of lamb-like innocence, and looking as if I was so used to yakunin and guard-houses that they were not worthy of notice, I passed without appearing to see them. They seemed taken by surprise . . . and looked at me with some curiosity . . . but they did not molest or even address me. Having passed through this town I tiffined at a small tea-house in the village a little further on, where the coolie engaged in the morning knocked under, and another had to be found. We reached Kumagaya at 3 p.m. and remained here the night. All the guard-houses were passed without the slightest trouble. . . . Both here and along the road we found the begging fraternity a marked feature in the picture.... I stopped at the last house in the place, belonging to an old man who had retired from business, as the hotels being or pretending to be all full, I could not find a resting-place in them. I was all the better pleased, however, and considered myself fortunate; as the old man, having lived there all his life, knew the country well, and the roads to Nikko were all perfectly familiar to him. I received much

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valuable and interesting information from him, and was recommended as to the best route to take. We sat chatting until the small hours, and each told the other many things to be stored in the knowledge box. Oh, what a comfort it was to sit and chatter under the huge mosquito net, which covered the whole room. The author bathed morning and evening in a nice cool stream and declared that these dips were 'among the pleasantest recollections of the trip'. The following morning he was detained by heavy rain until 11 a.m. He soon turned off th£ high-road and went across country to Kisaki, crossing two ferries close to one another on the Tamagawa. Kisaki was, he said, a 'huge gankiro' [brothel]. 'It seemed to have been recently burnt to the ground, as almost the whole of it was in course of rebuilding.' He pushed on to Obara which he reached at 8 p.m. The people there flocked to see him 'and they were surprised to hear me speak to everyone in his own language'. With the exception of the river people I was little annoyed with the inquisitiveness so generally complained of by travellers, and nothing could surpass the kindness I met with. The people told me that very few foreigners had been there, as during three years only one had been seen. Passing on through Ishihara I no longer thought of yakunin or molestation, as I was now in the country away from the high-road and guard-houses were unknown. The next day, the seventh on his journey, he reached Omama at the foot of the hills where he -had 'a regular blow-out' of mulberries. Beyond Omama he crossed a rickety bridge over a mountain torrent and travelling became difficult. He had not so far opened his photographic equipment but was beginning to look forward to some good views. He spent that night at Hanawa in the mountains. On the following morning the coolie he had engaged on the previous day refused to go further, so he engaged two fresh ones. The walking now became very laborious, the ascent generally continuous without a break . . . The scenery was so fine now that I attempted a photograph; but unfortunately found that the chemicals were all at fault, although before leaving Yokohama, I had tested them and packaged them, as I believed in perfect condition. Greatly disappointed he trudged on and arrived 'tired and low-spirited' at a place called Sohori, feeling sure that he had walked nearer 6 ri than 3.

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At first I thought of remaining here for the night; but after a slight refreshment, all my spirits seemed to return amid the combined influences of the pure air and the lovely scenery, so that I determined to make an effort to reach Ashio, about 2l/2 ri further. The road had followed the windings of the rocky stream all day; and I had passed many farms, at every one of which, mulberry-trees, silkworms and cocoons abounded. But the road now became very rough. Immense boulders in the path, which for almost the entire distance was on the edge of a precipice, sometimes only a few feet from the torrent, and ofttimes 200 or 300 feet nearly perpendicular. It was a walk few would care to take, were it not that trees spring from the side of the precipice and enable one to reason himself into an idea of safety. Between Sohori and Ashio there was hardly a cottage or a cultivated patch to be seen all the way. I reached Ashio between 8 and 9 o'clock, very tired; and my coolies were footsore into the bargain. They made light of it, however, and managed to find solace in the despatch of four bottles of sake. The servant of the mayor sent to enquire about me, though, as it turned out, not to trouble me, but to see what chances there were of a squeeze from the hotel keeper. . . . The next morning, I made up my mind to leave a portion of my incumbrances here and to return this way for them. I doctored the photographic bath a little, and thought I might be able at least to get a few glimpses, if not any finished and creditable pictures. That day he found 'an abundance of wild raspberries, which I consumed in no measured quantities and found very refreshing'. The road was completely washed away in places. Communication was kept up by saplings not much thicker than my arm, laid side* by side. The bridges over the stream which had frequently to be crossed were of just the same construction, and as they had no hand-rail, and did not lie quite close together, it was ticklish work crossing them. Any giddiness or loss of head would have lead to serious, perhaps fatal results. But it was not only the bridges which had to be crossed; several times I had to wade across the torrent, the water up to my loins, and very cold, and the stepping-stones having to be felt for at every step. I had not bargained for all this, and I trembled at every difficulty for the coolies and their loads. Fortunately, my head was equal to these dizzy heights and my legs firm against the strength of the torrent, but I would not willingly have encountered all I had to in that walk.

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(He had, of course, not followed the normal route by the main road.) After walking until 7 p.m. he began to feel faint with hunger, but he had gone ahead of the coolies and had nothing with him. He waited rather uneasily. When he was just thinking of retracing his steps he heard a temple bell close by and came upon a small temple. 'The coolies came in at intervals — the last at 10 p.m. We were all fairly knocked up, and I was very glad that I had put a bottle of rum in my provender box at starting, for a glass to each of them as well as to myself acted as a most decided 'pick-me-up'. His hosts at the temple were two priests who only came there during the summer months. The next day was Sunday and as the coolies needed rest he determined to remain there for the day. On the Monday he started for some hot springs, but found the torrents dangerously swollen by the Sunday's rains. At one crossing-point the stepping-stones could not be seen, but the coolies managed to cross without damage to his chattels. Hardly had they gone much further than a man from Ashio met them with a message for one of the coolies with orders from his wife to return home as he was wanted. The coolie, 'being a good obedient soul' did as he was asked and as there was no possibility of firlding a substitute nearer than Ashio, the author had no alternative but to return. Having completed a tenhour walk to no avail he reached Ashio at 5 p.m. The officer of the village, having intelligence enough to discover that part ofc my luggage consisted of photographic materials, bothered me sadly by his earnest solicitations that I would take his portrait, but "I could'na be fashed", and respectfully declined.' The following morning he set out for Chuzenji. About three miles on the road I took a capital view of a most picturesque farm-house among the mountains, and full of gladness that I had once more got my chemicals into working order, I was taking up the negative which I had placed on the box to dry when one of the coolies quietly pointed to his own figure in the centre of the glass and ignorant of the nature of the collodion film made a great hole in it and destroyed my picture. I could not wait to take another, and the fellow was so sorry that I could not show any anger, but remembering Sir Isaac Newton and his spaniel, I said to him in purest Japanese, 'Oh foolish man, thou little knowest the mischief thou has done'; and proceeded on my journey. The road was steeper than ever and very rough. They had to cross and re-cross a series of cataracts until they reached the top of the ridge. When they started the descent lake Chuzenji 'burst upon the view. It was magnificent to the eye.' He had still 3Vi miles to go.

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Eventually when he reached the lake side it was almost dark. There he waited for the coolies to catch up. It was then quite dark. The path was very rough and unpleasant and their efforts to improvise a torch utterly failed. Eventually they came to a bridge composed of two logs about as thick as a man's thigh, thrown across a ravine some forty or fifty feet wide, resting their ends on two high tressles in mid-stream; but from these tressles to the land, at both sides, a single plank connected, which was so springy that it yielded under one man's weight so as at each step to dip into the water. This was the only bridge I crossed that had any hand-rail: and even this was so low that I had to stoop more than I liked to lay hold of it. We crossed in safety one by one, the stream running rapidly beneath us from the lake to a waterfall about half a mile distant. [The waterfall was the Kegon falls. The bridge today, of course, takes much traffic, including buses!] The tea-house people had all closed for the night, and had to be roused; but they good naturedly received me, and made me as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances. Next morning I took a stroll and found that I had fallen on a most extraordinary place — a deserted town. There were only two houses in the place inhabited, and both these tea-houses. There were but two men and two boys in them and not a single woman. As I wandered through the long street I found all the houses empty, their doors and windows taken out, and placed over the mats piled up in the middle of the principal room, for protection from weather. The tenements were all half unroofed and generally things had an aspect of decay. On enquiry I ascertained that it is only a place of call for pilgrims once a year, about August and September. . . . No women come here, except it be on the way to the hot springs [at Yumoto]. He wanted to take a swim in the lake, but found the water so cold that he was 'obliged to curtail this luxury to literally little more than a dip'. He thought he was in a kind of dreamland, with all the evidences of occasional life, amidst a stillness almost deathlike . . . Not a footfall is heard, nor the murmur of a human voice. All is so still and silent, except when an occasional zephyr causes the tiny waves to ripple on the pebbly beach, and a slight movement among the leaves; or some feathered songster trills his lay. . . . For myself amid the real enjoyment of the lovely scenery, the beautiful weather, and the complete sense of freedom from care, a kind of melancholy stole over me, and I

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found myself repeating Byron's exquisite description of the Grecian shore. . . . At that moment I certainly felt sad, but I suppose it was of that quality of melancholy which is akin to joy. During the afternoon five Kyushu samurai on a pleasure trip passed through Chuzenji. 'They were very gracious, and came and chatted a long time before they passed on. Two bottles of Japanese sake was not much between six of us, but if they liked me as much as I liked them that is sufficient.' He started the next morning to descend to Nikko: The path was about three feet wide, and the precipice sheer into the torrent on the other side, sometimes hundreds of feet below. In some places where the rains had damaged the path, it was very ticklish travelling. About halfway I came upon a tea-house in the centre of a field of utter devastation through the overflow of the torrent the previous year, caused by very heavy rains accompanying the melting of the snow [the Naka-no-Chaya]. Within half a mile of Nikko, he came upon two small temples with little gardens and ponds, and a magnificent show of azaleas. He got to Nikko at 1 p.m. having set off at 6 o'clock. 'After internal and external refreshment' he took a stroll to see the temples and shrines. At every house he passed he was joined by all the young folk 'appertaining thereto'. He was glad to get to the temple grounds, for there the crowd left him. He was able to explore the place with no other attendant than one of his coolies who had run after him, 'as I believe, in hope of seeing with me what he would assuredly be debarred from by himself. He paid a small entrance fee and at the request of the official in charge took off his'boots. He then saw 'the richest and finest temples' he had ever seen. Whilst examining the carvings of the outside several people came up and paid their devotions, ringing a bell to call the attention of the deity and throwing some cash into the box which here, as elsewhere, stands in front of the door: I thought I should hardly be guilty of offering to idols if I threw in my mite too; only I took care that I let the priest and yakunin see that I did so, and that I was so munificent as to cast in a whole half bu. The effect was instantaneous. The astonished priest rose and conferred with the laymen, and this was followed by the temple door being thrown open, and my being invited to enter the sanctum sanctorum. The coolie essayed to enter with me; but the instant his foot touched the bottom step he was peremptorily ordered back, and soundly rated for his temerity

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in presuming to tread on such holy ground. No Japanese, except the most highly privileged, are allowed to enter at any time; and probably very few ever have seen the inside, as crowds assembled to peep in when it got about that I had obtained admission. The Far East, 1 April 1873 [The sanctum of the Toshogu is now open to all who pay the fee!] In the following years Nikko became increasingly accessible. In 1878 Isabella Bird went from Tokyo to Nikko by 'kuruma' [she meant jinrikisha]. Three of these were to cover the ninety or so miles in three days, 'without change of runners, for about eleven shillings each'. Isabella was fortunate in having a passport which did not define exactly the route she was to follow but which permitted her to travel in northern Japan and Ezo (Hokkaido). A passport, she noted, had to be applied for for reasons of 'health, botanical research, or scientific investigation'. Its bearer must not light fires in woods, attend fires on horseback, trespass on fields, enclosures, or gamepreserves, scribble on temples, shrines, or walls, drive fast on a narrow road, or disregard notices of 'No Thoroughfare'. He must 'conduct himself in an orderly and conciliating manner towards the Japanese authorities and people'; he 'must produce his passport to any officials who may demand it', under pain of arrest, and while in the interior 'is forbidden to shoot, trade, to conclude mercantile contracts with Japanese, or to rent houses or rooms for a longer period than his journey requires'. This passport was presented to her in Japanese! Isabella left the Legation in Tokyo at 11 a.m. and reached Kasukabe at 5 p.m., the runners keeping up an easy trot the whole journey of twenty-three miles, but the halts for smoking and eating were frequent. Her kuruma-runners wore short, blue cotton drawers, girdles with tobacco pouch and pipe attached, short blue cotton shirts with wide sleeves and open in front to their waist, and blue cotton handkerchiefs knotted round their heads, except when the sun was very hot, when they took the flat, flag discs two feet in diameter, which always hang behind kuruma and are used either in sun or rain, and tied them on their heads. They wore straw sandals, which had to be replaced twice on the way. Blue and white towels hung from the shafts to wipe away the sweat, which ran profusely down the lean, brown bodies. The upper garment always flew behind them, displaying chests and backs elaborately tattooed with dragons and fishes.

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When we stopped at wayside tea-houses the runners bathed their feet, rinsed their mouths, and ate rice, pickles, salt fish, and 'broth of abominable things', after which they smoked their tiny pipes, which give them three whiffs for each filling. Isabella had a bad night at Kasukabe getting accustomed to Japanese inns. Near midnight she was disturbed by two uniformed policemen who had called to inspect her passport, which they spelt through by the light of a dim lantern. The following day she went on to Tochigi where her stay was even more uncomfortable. Privacy was a luxury not even to be recalled. Beside the constant application of eyes to the shoji [paper screen], the servants, who were noisy and rough, looked into my room constantly without any pretext; the host, a bright, pleasant-looking man, did the same; jugglers, musicians, blind shampooers, and singing girls, all pushed the screens aside. The noise of parties became 'truly diabolical' and did not cease until after 1 a.m. 'Late at night my precarious shoji were accidentally thrown down, revealing a scene of great hilarity, in which a number of people were bathing and throwing water over each other.' However, the road on the next day through avenues of cryptomerias was more attractive despite the drizzling rain. She was delighted with her inn at Nikko where she regretfully parted with her coolies who had served her 'kindly and faithfully'. They had paid me many little attentions, such as always beating the dust out of my dress, inflating my air-pillow, and bringing me flowers, and were always grateful when I walked up hills; and just now, after going for a frolic to the mountains, they called to wish me good-bye bringing branches of azaleas. Isabella stayed at the Kanaya which has since become the main western-style hotel in Nikko but still retains some of the atmosphere of the late nineteenth century. In Isabella's day the Kanaya was a Japanese-style inn, but to Isabella it was an idyll: There is nothing within or without which does not please the eye, and, after the din of the yadoya [local inns], its silence, musical with the dash of waters and the twitter of birds, is truly refreshing. It is a simple but irregular two-storied pavilion, standing on a stone-faced terrace approached by a flight of stone steps. The garden is well laid out, and, as peonies, irises and azaleas are now in blossom, it is very bright. The mountain, with its lower part covered with red azaleas, rises just behind, and a stream which tumbles down it supplies the house with

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water, both cold and pure, and another, after forming a miniature cascade, passes under the house and through a fish-pond with rocky islets into the river below. Kanaya's sister, a very sweet, refined-looking woman, met me at the door and divested me of my boots. The two verandahs are highly polished, so are the entrance and the stairs which lead to my room, and the mats are so fine and white that I almost fear to walk over them, even in my stockings. The polished stairs lead to a highly polished, broad verandah with a beautiful view, from which you enter one large room, which, being too large, was at once made into two. . . . The whole front of my room is composed of shoji, which slide back during the day. The ceiling is of light wood crossed by bars of dark wood, and the posts which support it are of dark polished wood. The panels are of wrinkled sky-blue paper splashed with gold. She noted that Kanaya led the discords at the Shinto shrines; but his duties are few, and he is chiefly occupied in perpetually embellishing his house and garden. His mother, a venerable old lady, and his sister, the sweetest and most graceful Japanese woman but one that I have seen, live with him. She moves about the house like a floating fairy, and her voice has music in its tones. A half-witted servantman and the sister's boy and girl complete the family. Kanaya is the chief man in the village, and is very intelligent and apparently well-educated. He has divorced his wife, and his sister has practically divorced her husband. Of late to help his income, he has let these charming rooms to foreigners who have brought letters to him, and he is very anxious to meet their views, while his good taste leads him to avoid Europeanizing his beautiful home. She added that for her two rooms with rice and tea she paid two shillings a day! Isabella stayed in Nikko for nine days and enjoyed herself greatly. She thought that Nikko's individuality lay not so much in its great beauty and variety, as in its solemn grandeur, its profound melancholy, its slow and sure decay, and the historical and religious atmosphere from which one can never altogether escape. 'It is a place of graves too, of constant rain and strange stillness, and its glories lie in the past.' Her account of the shrines demonstrates her careful powers of observation. But this is not a guide-book, so I shall end with her conclusion about Nikko:

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The details fade from my memory daily as I leave the shrines, and in their place are picturesque masses of black and red lacquer and gold, gilded doors opening without noise, halls laid with matting so soft that not a footfall sounds, across whose twilight the sunbeams fall aslant on richly arabesqued walls and panels carved with birds and flowers, and on ceilings panelled and wrought with elaborate art, of inner shrines of gold, and golden lilies six feet high, and curtains of gold brocade, and incense fumes, and colossal bells and golden ridge poles; of the mythical fauna, kirin, dragon, and hoo [kirin and hoo were mythical animals], of elephants, apes, and tigers, strangely mingled with flowers and trees, and golden tracery, and diaper work on a gold ground, and lacquer screens, and pagodas, and groves of bronze lanterns, and shaven priests in gold brocade, and Shinto attendants in black lacquer caps, and gleams of sunlit gold here and there, and simple monumental urns, and a mountainside covered with a cryptomeria forest, with rose azaleas lighting up its solemn shade. Unbeaten Tracks in Japan When W. G. Dickson went to Nikko in the 1880s, he took a native steamer up the Tonegawa to Nippa, touching at Koga. We were to be all night in the little cabin, therefore we were advised to take it all and monopolize it. As we never found anything but courtesy from Japanese, and in their company one is not exposed to the objectionable practices of Chinese in belching, spitting, hawking, blowing their noses with one finger, and other minor annoyances to ear and eye and nose, I determined to go in the first-class cabin, and to take only my share of it. Our tickets we took at the office on the side of a canal in which the little steamer was lying. Everything is quietly and authoritatively arranged by the head clerk on his knees. A little baggage is allowed, but if the package is tied with straw-rope it has to be paid for. There is a remarkable economy of room in the sitting posture of the natives, the door of the cabin being about four feet high, and the cabin itself about five feet, and about twelve feet square. But it was clean, and not like any Chinese apartment. The fare for the twelve hours' run was about 2s. 6d. for two. There was a European carpet laid on the Japanese mats, and we were asked to take our boots off if any Japanese came in. From Koga they went on by road via Utsunomiya. Night came on while they were in the cryptomeria avenue. A black thunder squall was followed by heavy rain. So Dickson got out to walk while his runners were groping their way in perfect darkness. He eventually reached a

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bright tea-house at Imaichi where he spent the night before going on to Nikko the next morning. They were disappointed that they had not seen 'so fine a thing' as they expected. They went on to Chuzenji and Yumoto on foot, although Dickson noted that the road beyond Umagaeshi [literally horse-sending-back-place] had recently been improved so as to allow horses to go all the way to Chuzenji.. They crossed the 'impetuous stream nine times before leaving it, generally over very frail-looking bridges made of branches of trees covered with twigs.' At Chuzenji he noted: There are five moderately good tea-houses, and a great many other houses, but these latter are shut, and opened only on the three days' celebration. These are for pilgrims only, and are filled in August, and in addition there is a very large barn-like hall for the overflow of guests. Gleanings from Japan When Sara Duncan and Orthodocia went to Nikko the railway ran to Utsunomiya. In their 'tiny first-class carriage there was a tiny first-class table with holes in it for the safe reception of teapot and teacups, which the guard brought in with a bow.' At Utsunomiya they took jinrikisha to Nikko, and went through the long, straggling streets of Utsunomiya at a steady trot. The people came out to stare. It was quite two weeks since their last foreign entertainment; the frost nipped off the tourists, as it did the mandarin buds. From every group came a cheerful word for our runners, and the answer went gaily back. It is a lorig way from Utsunomiya to Nikko, quite twenty-three miles. And all those miles climb slowly up between two solemn lines of tall pine-trees, the dark erratic pine trees of Japan, whose twisted arms must*have made the people first think of dragons. . . . The long silent stretches of the gradual ascent were very empty. Now and then a pilgrim, now and then a packhorse, occasionally a group of men urging along a cart full of trailing bamboo trunks. It is quite true that our men ran half the way to Nikko in two hours and a half without once stopping. Then as the evening sky reddened behind the lowest branches of the pine-trees, we came to a tea-house hidden "away under them. The walls of the teahouse were open, and through them we saw the fire curling up from the middle of the earthen floor, and all the household gathered round it. Our runners refreshed themselves mightily here, and we ate rice and eggs, with one battered tin fork between us, and drank hot sake, and were greatly comforted.

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Orthodocia confided to me as we started off again that she didn't know how her runners must feel, but, judging from her own sensations, her jinrikisha was getting very, very tired. Then, as we rode on apace, the shadows clustered and grew between the eaves of the pines, and fell silently at our feet, though all about the country still lay fair and visible in the twilight. Presently they deepened into night, and as we toiled further up, strange dark shapes began to appear between the trees and to lean forward, peering at us - the outer guard of gods about the bones of leyasu. That evening, as we sat on the floor of the Japanese inn and constructed sentences to ask for a bed in, and soap, and other essentials, our host entered, bowed on his hands and knees with supreme humility, and made a remark. They tried hard to find out what he wanted. Eventually Sara said sagely: 'It's the bill,' and produced a yen or two. But no it was not the bill. Orthodocia then offered him a few soda biscuits, an orange, a tin of sardines from our private provisions, but he politely declined them all. She even opened a bottle of lemonade with a pop that frightened him dreadfully, but he would have none of it. Then she began with her personal effects, and brought him a handkerchief, a collar, an assortment of hair-pins and a pair of Wiggington galoshes. None of them, though he regarded them with pleased and curious interest, seemed exactly calculated to fill his long-felt want. Finally, for most of the inhabitants of Nikko were by this time, alas! sitting on the floor of our apartment watching the progress of events, Orthodocia brought him her satchel, and opened it under his eyes. He looked over its contents very daintily and carefully, seized something at the very bottom with great joy, and drew forth her passport! I have never before or since participated in such a scene of mutual felicitation as followed. After breakfast, at which our host proudly presented us each with a poached egg — his own poaching — we went to see the temples. They stood far up the mountain-side, the great temples, all clustered together under their curving roofs of red and gold, within the outer courts of the trees and the sky. Broad, damp, mossy stone steps led to them, and we heard a ceaseless sound of trickling water from the overflowing stone vessels for the purification of the pilgrims that stood inside the gates. The

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ubiquitous Japanese lion, foolishly amiable as usual, kicked up his heels in stone on either side of every approach. . . . We climbed to the tomb of leyasu with its bronze lotus and guarding stork, and we looked upon that warrior's helmet, and sword, and chair of state with all the reverence we could muster for heroic annals in Japan. We saw a pale, weird woman, all in waving white draperies with scarlet under them, make strange passes with a fan and a bell-rattle, strange posturings, strange measured steps in a semi-circle, within the cell-like little temple where she sat all day to do her religion this service. And when that pale weird woman sat down again among her draperies, and cast one level look upon us from beneath her lowered lids a mechanical, incurious look — we. felt that no sum of years, or of miles, or of human difference could avail to express the shivering distance that lay between her and us. We went back to Utsunomiya in the rain. The long green vista of the leaning