A few days before the declaration of war in 1870, a German steamer, the Rhine, entered Tokio Bay and landed at Yokohama. At that time, two French warships, the Vénus and the Dupleix, and two German warships, the Medusa and the Herta, were in the same waters. Each squadron was of equal strength, the Germans having the superiority of their artillery on their side, the French retaining the advantage of faster maneuvering and marching.
Once war was declared, the German steamer found itself in this alternative:either to leave the harbor of Yokohama and risk falling into the power of the French squadron, or to remain, so to speak, blocked in the neutral waters of Japan. There remained a third alternative, which was to be protected by the German squadron. But, for that, this squadron had to accept the battle. But she didn't want to.
The Germans thought they had found an ingenious and life-saving solution; they sold their steamer to the Japanese. Unfortunately they had forgotten this small detail of the maritime regulations, that in time of war the change of flag is not accepted. Consequently, the French admiral, strong in his rights, officially warned the Japanese government that, if the steamer the Rhine tried to get out, the French squadron would set course for it and seize it immediately, as if it were a good prize.
Here are the Japanese very disconcerted:they had bought in good faith and paid for without mistrust an excellent steamer, and they could not use it. They complained to the Minister of Germany, residing in Yokohama.
"Don't worry," replied the Minister. If the French make a show of wanting to run across the Rhine, our two warships will protect its exit. I will issue orders accordingly.
The minister did as he promised. In the absence of a German admiral aboard the squadron, command was officially transferred to the more senior of the two captains. Everything being thus settled, the Japanese, full of confidence, prepared to send out their steamer, or rather the German steamer, which had become their property.
On the appointed day, the docks of Yokohama presented a spectacle such as had not been seen for a long time. Thousands of onlookers piled up, hurrying, eager to witness, at least from afar, a naval battle considered certain, inevitable.
Soon the Rhine is heating up:people are whistling for casting off on board the French squadron. All eyes are on the German squadron:a murmur of surprise and disappointment rises from the crowd. Indeed, the German buildings remain motionless; complete silence reigns on board. However, the Rhine bravely weighs anchor. The French squadron imitates it, determined to capture it as soon as it leaves Japanese waters.
The murmur increases. What will happen?
The crowd's uncertainty did not last long:at the same time, the Germans knocked down their chimneys. It is to declare that they give up going out in turn, that they refuse the fight. The steamer had only one thing left to do, to hurry home. He did.
It is easy to imagine the indignation of the Japanese. That of the German Minister was almost as lively. In fact, he had pledged his word, and the excessive prudence of the German squadron made him fail in it. He summoned the Commander-in-Chief.
— I gave instructions:why didn't you carry them out?
The major took a piece of paper from his wallet, opened it, and handed it to the minister:
—Here are my orders, he replied.
It was, in fact, a peremptory injunction, signed by the Minister of the German Navy and summed up in these few words:
“Only accept combat if victory is absolutely certain. »
The forces of the French squadron being equal to those of the German squadron, this certainty was lacking.
The commander, by refusing to fight, had therefore strictly obeyed an order which, incidentally, served constantly as a military program for the Germans, both on land and at sea, throughout the entire war of 1870-1871 .
On a people like the Japanese, who place nothing above warlike courage, audacity, even temerity, this adventure, not very brilliant for the Germans, could not fail to produce the more annoying.
It certainly helped to counterbalance in their minds the effect of our military disasters. We were defeated, but we had fought dearly for victory in each battle.
However, the bad fortune of arms has never been a mark of abasement for the Japanese. As a result, even our defeats did not diminish the esteem in which, from the point of view of military superiority, they had never ceased to hold us. In addition; the memory of our past glory ended up compensating and beyond that, in their eyes, the sad surprises of the present.
As the Franco-Prussian War was ending, a new movement of opinion in favor of the contest of European enlightenment began to manifest itself in Japan. The state of disorganization, of indiscipline of the troops then constituting a semblance of an army, had become such that the government was moved and even frightened by it. From July 1871, two profound reforms were resolved […] Once this progress was accepted, the resumption of military negotiations with European instructors logically took place on its own. But which nation would Japan address?
He did not hesitate:he did, in 1871, the day after our disasters, as he had done in 1860, the day after our successes:he turned to France.
That a reason of interest, the question of language, influenced this decision of Japan, it is possible. The Japanese had many interpreters fluent in French, while German was almost unknown among them.
This fact demonstrates once again what roots were enough to establish in Japan the work, however barely sketched, of the first French mission.
At the official request of the Japanese government, the dispatch of a second military mission was granted by France. Like the previous one, it included officers and non-commissioned officers of all arms, all elite. […]
Source:
Military Japan (1883), by Paul de Lapeyrère.
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