Charles C. Erichsen: Gone but not Forgotten

Nagasaki is home to Japan's oldest and most diverse international cemeteries.  All told, several thousand foreigners are buried here, from Chinese merchants who ended their journey in 17th-century Nagasaki to British retirees who chose to stay with their Japanese wives during World War II and died of old age in the postwar period.

When Lane Earns and I put together the book Across the Gulf of Time: The International Cemeteries of Nagasaki (Nagasaki Bunkensha, 1993), our research was hampered by a lack of sources.  In fact, we relied mainly on gravestone inscriptions and obituaries from the English-language newspapers published in Nagasaki from 1861 to 1928, with inevitable gaps and omissions.  We also had to leave out the hundreds of people buried in the Chinese and Russian cemeteries and to gloss over periods not covered by the newspapers.  As a result we have been constantly on the lookout for further information, especially that provided by descendants who happen to notice the names of relatives in the above book or on our website.  The following is a report on one such event.  

I recently received an inquiry regarding Charles C. Erichsen, a British-Danish traveler who died in Nagasaki in 1883 at the tender age of 19.  The short obituary published in the English-language newspaper The Rising Sun and Nagasaki Express states simply that he died on board the "Seine," a steamship operated by the "Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Co."  The rather opulent gravestone erected at Oura International Cemetery suggests a wealthy background, but the inscription provides no further clues.

Charles C. Erichsen's gravestone (right) at Oura International Cemetery

However, the information provided by the writer of the above inquiry revealed that Erichsen was the younger brother of Nelly Erichsen (1862-1918), a British-Danish artist and illustrator who studied at the Royal Academy of Art in the 1880s and worked with a number of publishing firms including J.M. Dent and Macmillan.  His father was Herman Gustav Erichsen, a native of Denmark who had emigrated to England as a young man and later invested in the formation of the Great Northern Telegraph Company, going on to become the company’s representative in England.  The Great Northern Telegraph Company built an international telegraph network, connecting England, Russia and Scandinavia by means of undersea cables and establishing an extension company that laid the first cables connecting Nagasaki with Vladivostok, Shanghai and Hong Kong.

Charles C. Erichsen was probably visiting Nagasaki as a company representative and met an untimely death due to a sudden illness.  His identify and family connections went unknown until now, 131 years since his burial in the Oura International Cemetery.

A Hard Day's Labour, by Nelly Erichsen.

Whence the Kirin?

The kirin (qilin) is a mythical animal of Chinese origin, half horse and half dragon, a harbinger of good fortune and world harmony said to appear in conjunction with the arrival and death of great personages.  Mention of it can be traced back in literature and art to the 5th century BCE.  The figure and the meaning attached to it probably reached Japan on one of the ships carrying news of Chinese Buddhism, architecture and kanji written script about a millennium later. 

The kirin engraved on a transom at the Nishihonganji Head Temple in Kyoto. 

Illustration of a kirin in the notes of German physician Engelbert Kaempfer, who served as chief surgeon at the Dutch East India Company factory on Dejima in Nagasaki from 1690 to 1692. 

In present-day Japan, however, the kirin is better known for the animal portrayed on the labels of Kirin Beer Company products than for any traditional artistic representation.  Kirin Beer also has a rather garbled Nagasaki connection, discussed below.

      

The Japan Brewery Company, predecessor of Kirin Beer Company, was founded in Yokohama in 1885 and began production of its signature "Kirin Beer" in 1888.  The main mover was Scottish entrepreneur Thomas B. Glover (1838-1911), whose famous house is preserved today in Nagasaki's Glover Garden.  Glover exercised his considerable entrepreneurial skills in scouting German brewmasters, drumming up investments from both foreign and Japanese residents, and turning beer into a beverage as popular as sake and shochu in Japanese drinking establishments.  

The first label used by the Japan Brewery Company after its inception in 1885 featured an unidentified animal dancing in front of a rising sun.  Whether or not this was intended to look like a kirin is unclear.  

A new illustration appeared in 1889 and remains in use to this day.  The Japan Brewery Company was disbanded in 1907 and renamed "Kirin Brewery Company," an organization registered in Japan without the assistance of foreigners and based entirely on Japanese capital.

How Thomas Glover and his colleagues came up with the kirin to serve as a company symbol, however, remains a mystery.  Nothing can be found in company records to shed light on the question.  The original label illustration and related documents have also been lost, apparently in the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923.   All we have, therefore, is conjecture.

One unconfirmed theory states that the bushy mustache shown on the animal of the label -- a feature absent in illustrations of the traditional kirin -- was inspired by Glover's trademark mustache and was added as an expression of respect.  But even if that is true, it does not answer the fundamental question as to why and under what circumstances the kirin was chosen as a company symbol.

Another theory has it that the pair of stone komainu (guardian dogs) currently on display in the former Glover House in Nagasaki served as models.  In fact the sign beside the statues states in rather definite terms that this is so.  Several years ago your writer was asked to translate the sign.  I stealthily added the word "perhaps" to the English text because I suspected, correctly as it would turn out, that there is no proof for the supposed connection between the statues and the famous beer.  In fact, not only is there nothing to show that Glover referred to the statues in choosing a logo for his beer, there is no record as to how the statues ended up in his house in the first place.  Someone just threw out a guess, and it stuck to the wall.

The guardian dogs in the sunroom at the former Glover House, with Nagasaki Harbor and Mt. Inasa in the background.   The Japanese explanation board claims that the statues inspired Thomas Glover to choose the kirin as a logo for his new beer, quite a leap of logic considering that the guardian dog and the kirin are entirely different entities.     

So, let's join in the guessing game.  Fuller’s Brewery, the producer of London Pride and other popular British brands, has been operating in the Chiswick suburb of West London since 1845.  The company emblem is the griffin, a legendary creature of European origin similar to the kirin in use and meaning but combining a lion with an eagle instead of a dragon with a horse.  Perhaps Thomas Glover or one of his British colleagues 1) remembered the griffin when looking around for a name, 2) heard from Japanese friends that Japan and China had something remarkably similar, and 3) decided to use the kirin as a trademark.  This is pure conjecture, but it seems far more plausible than the guardian dogs. 

The insignia of Fuller's Brewery, showing the griffin symbol.

Peace Promotion?

The municipal government of Nagasaki regularly calls for the "abolition of nuclear weapons" and the "promotion of lasting world peace" in one sentence.  The mayor of Nagasaki delivers a public "Peace Declaration" every year on the August 9 anniversary of the atomic bombing and, with minor adjustments, trots out the same message each time, namely the assertion that world peace cannot be achieved as long as nuclear weapons exist.

Once a year, several Nagasaki high school students are nominated "Peace Messengers" and dispatched to the United States and other countries.  The purpose is to convey information about the horror of the atomic bombing; the reward is praise at home for valiant "peace activities."  Whenever I read the news, I imagine the naive teenagers crying in their hotel rooms at night after facing questions on topics such as Pearl Harbor, Korean comfort women and the Bataan Death March -- not to mention factors hindering global security such as economic disparity, environmental degradation and religious conflict -- about which of course they know little if anything.

Ironically, the current Japanese government seems to regard nuclear weapons as necessary for peace.   Japanese officials recently refused to approve a joint statement aired at the second session of the Preparatory Committee for the 2015 Review Conference of the Parties to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons in Geneva.  The explanation was that Japan’s national security is protected under the American nuclear umbrella, making it impossible to advocate statements like, "It is in the interest of the very survival of humanity that nuclear weapons are never used again, under any circumstances."  In other words, Japan needs American nuclear weapons to keep China and North Korea at bay and to maintain peace in the region.  I wonder how the mayor of Nagasaki intends to deal with this in his next “Peace Declaration."

Another reason to question Nagasaki City's motivation in waving the peace placard is the conflict of interest represented by tourism.  Just as the "Peace Dome" is Hiroshima's hottest attraction, the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum is second only to the Glover Garden theme park as Nagasaki's most popular tourist destination. Statistics published by Nagasaki City show that 644,391 and 933,660 people visited the two facilities, respectively, during the year 2012.  The restored Dutch East India Company Factory on Dejima came in a distant third at 393,807 visitors.

Despite the inclusion of the name on the above list of tourist facilities -- and despite the enormous revenue gained from admission fees -- Nagasaki City insists that the museum's mission is to promote peace, not to attract tourists.  However, the tourist stamp from the early postwar years shown below suggests that tourism and "peace promotion" have always been two sides of the same coin.

Tourist stamp from the 1950s.  The stamp has the characters meaning "Nagasaki Tourist Memento" on the bottom with an image of the atomic bomb mushroom cloud rising above the city and the popular tourist attractions Oura Catholic Church and Sofukuji Temple (left) shown below. 
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The government led by Prime Minister Abe Shinzo has raised eyebrows in recent weeks for its increasingly nationalistic rhetoric and its efforts to revise the Japanese constitution, particularly Article Nine prohibiting acts of war by the state.  The prime minister has also been busy during trips abroad trying to sell nuclear reactors to developing countries.  After the Pandora's Box of Fukushima and all the problems it unleashed -- as well as the scourge of radiation generated by the 1945 atomic bombings -- shouldn't Japan be the world's foremost proponent of alternative energy?

To conclude, one more peace-related photograph: 

The official name of the pachinko (pinball gambling) parlor on the corner of Nagasaki's main downtown intersection is "Peace Park."  No one seems to find this odd or inappropriate, even though the city has a famous park of the same name located near the atomic bomb hypocenter, a sacrosanct space supposedly designed to appeal to the world about the importance of "peace."

Etched in Stone

After the end of his second term as President of the United States, Ulysses S. Grant embarked with his wife on a two-year tour of the world, traveling west via Europe, Egypt, Thailand and China.  The entourage arrived in Nagasaki on June 21, 1879.  It was the first time for an American president, incumbent or retired, to step foot in Japan, and Nagasaki was the illustrious visitor's first stopover.  The reason for Nagasaki's precedence in the visit was twofold: 1) it was the closest Japanese port to Shanghai, the Chinese city from which the entourage sailed, and 2) it had an established American community and was already well known abroad as a fabled former haunt of Portuguese Jesuits, Chinese mariners and Dutch opperhoofden.  

In his 1880 book "Grant's Tour Around the World," J.F. Packard describes the arrival of the American party in Nagasaki as follows:

The landing-place had been arranged, not in the foreign section nor the Dutch concession, carrying out the intention of having the reception entirely Japanese. Lines of troops were formed, the steps were covered with red cloth, and every space and standing spot and coigne of vantage was covered with people.  The General's boat touched the shore, and with Mrs. Grant on his arm and followed by the Colonel, the Japanese officials, and the members of his party, he slowly walked up the platform, bowing to the multitude who made this obeisance in his honor.  There is something strange in the grave decorum of an Oriental crowd—strange to us who remember the ringing cheer and the electric hurrah of Saxon lands.  The principal citizens of Nagasaki came forward and were presented, and, after a few minutes' pause, our party stepped into jinrickshaws and were taken to our quarters…  Our quarters in Nagasaki had been prepared in the Japanese town.  A building used for a female normal school had been prepared.  It was a half mile from the landing, and the whole road had been decorated with flags, American and Japanese entwined, with arches of green boughs and flowers. Both sides of the road were lined with people, who bowed low to the General as he passed. On reaching our residence the Japanese officials of the town were all presented.  Then came the foreign consuls in a body, who were presented by the American Consul, Mr. Mangum.  After this came the officers of the Japanese vessels, all in uniform.  Then came a delegation representing the foreign residents of all nationalities in Nagasaki, who asked to present an address…  There were dinners and fetes during our stay in Nagasaki, some of which I may dwell on more in detail.  The Governor of the province gave a State dinner on the evening of the 23d of June, served in French fashion; one that in its details would have done no discredit to the restaurants in Paris.

Packard provides a detailed description of the brief stay in Nagasaki but omits one significant event: the tree-planting ceremony held at Suwa Park (Nagasaki Park) on the day after Grant's arrival.  Interestingly, the people of Nagasaki remembered the tree-planting ceremony better than any other aspect of the visit.  The handwritten note presented by Grant to Governor Utsumi on the occasion was not only preserved in local archives but also carved verbatim onto a monument placed beside the planted trees.  The note read as follows: "Nagasaki Japan, June 22nd, 1879.  At the request of Governor Utsumi Tadakatsu, Mrs. Grant and I each planted a tree in the Nagasaki Park.  I hope that both trees may prosper, grow large, live long, and in their growth, prosperity and long life be emblematic of the future of Japan."

When an American tourist party visited Nagasaki in 1910, a welcoming group issued three commemorative postcards on the theme of Ulysses S. Grant's 1879 visit, no doubt regarding it as a highlight of American-Japanese friendship in the city.   A photograph of the former president taken in Nagasaki was printed on one of the postcards along with a copy of the above handwritten note.  

Needless to say, the welcoming group had no way to know that an atomic bomb dropped from an American B-29 bomber would devastate Nagasaki only 35 years later, or that the image on the postcard would be the only copy of the handwritten note remaining after the destruction of Nagasaki City Hall by fire in 1958. 

One of the colorful postcards issued by the Nagasaki welcoming group in 1910 bears a photograph of former American President Ulysses S. Grant taken here in 1879 and a copy of his message to the citizens of Nagasaki.  A close-up of the message is shown below.

 Soon after the visit of Ulysses S. Grant and his wife to Nagasaki in 1879, a monument was erected beside the trees planted by the couple in Suwa Park.  The monument remains intact to this day, despite the hatred that flared between the United States and Japan during World War Two.  Few people may notice it, but Grant's handwritten note, inscribed like a carbon copy on the stone, is also clearly evident.

Hollander Slope

After its inception in the early 17th-century, the Tokugawa Shogunate launched a step-by-step effort to expunge the influence of Christianity and to limit the activities of Europeans to trade.   In 1634, a group of Nagasaki merchants agreed to construct an artificial island in the harbor to confine Portuguese residents, accepting assurances from the Shogunate that they would be richly rewarded in the form of rental fees.  The fan-shaped island, called "Dejima" (protruding island), reached completion in 1636, but Japanese authorities lost patience with the Portuguese and expelled them from the country only three years later.  Dejima remained empty until the Dutch East India Company agreed to move its factory (trading post) there in 1641.

From that year onward, Nagasaki served as the only place in Japan where foreigners could reside.  Chinese trade was also confined to Nagasaki, and from 1689, Chinese residents agreed to move into a walled-in quarter in the Juzenji district with restrictions similar to those imposed at Dejima.

Despite the rigid separation, however, relations among the Japanese, Chinese and Dutch were generally cordial: in contrast to other parts of Japan, where the only foreigners encountered by ordinary people were those portrayed in exaggerated images in woodblock prints, the people of Nagasaki used the affectionate terms achasan and orandasan to refer to their foreign co-inhabitants.  Once all the rules had been settled, Nagasaki entered a period of peace and prosperity as Japan’s only officially open port, with the Chinese living in their spacious quarter in the Juzenji district, the Dutch ensconced on Dejima, the Japanese community scattered over 77 traditional blocks or machi, and everyone profiting directly or indirectly from the foreign trade.

 

Late 19th-century view of Dejima, looking over the rooftops of Western-style houses in the Oura neighborhood of the Nagasaki Foreign Settlement.

By the time Japan re-opened the national doors in 1859, the people of Nagasaki were using the word oranda to refer, not only to the Dutch on Dejima, but to everything European, such as oranda ryōri (European cuisine), oranda bochi (foreign cemetery) and oranda yashiki (Western-style house).  People in other parts of Japan tended to refer to Caucasians with xenophobic and racially charged words like ijin and gaijin, but Nagasaki residents continued to use the affectionate if inaccurate term orandasan (Hollander) to refer to Westerners of all nationalities.

The construction of the Nagasaki Foreign Settlement began in 1860.  The Shogunate (and later Meiji government) conducted the groundwork and the laying of stone-paved roads, gutters and steps reaching up into the hillside residential neighborhoods of Higashiyamate and Minamiyamate.  Foreign residents were allowed to own the buildings they erected but paid an annual land rental fee to the Japanese government based on the area of each lot.

While this was going on, the people of Nagasaki began to call the flagstone-paved hillside paths orandazaka (Hollander Slope), as usual the implication being, not that the paths had anything directly to do with the Netherlands, but that they were used on a daily basis by the orandasan (i.e. Euro-American residents) living in the foreign settlement.

The former Nagasaki Foreign settlement was still dotted with 19th-century buildings after World War II but memories of the foreigners who once lived there had mostly faded.  Japanese tenants occupied the empty houses in the residential neighborhoods of Minamiyamate and Higashiyamate, one large family to a room, plugging fireplaces to keep out draughts, plastering the walls with pictures, and covering the old wooden floors with tatami mats.

In 1966, the owner of the Western-style house at No.25 Minamiyamate agreed to sell the building to the "Meiji Village" theme park in Aichi Prefecture, but all the information he could provide about the history and characteristics of the house was that it was an oranda yashiki (lit. Dutch house).  Hearing this, the Meiji Village curators launched an investigation assuming that a Dutch family had built the house or a least lived there for much of its history, but they ran into a wall until finally realizing that the term oranda yashiki was being used in a manner unique to Nagasaki.

Today, the former Nagasaki Foreign Settlement has gained attention for its unique architecture and ikokujōcho (exotic atmosphere), and the "Hollander Slope" in Higashiyamate is a popular tourist destination introduced widely in photographs and picture postcards.  But most of the people who come to visit the famous flagstone path may not notice that it reflects, not another aspect of Nagasaki's historical relationship with the Netherlands, but a culture of tolerance, cooperation and coexistence fading quickly in the wake of urban development.
    

"Oranadazaka" shown on the cover of a picture postcard collection of the 1970s.  The old Western-style houses at No.13 (right) and No.12 Higashiyamate are used today as a community center and museum, respectively.

Jewish Cemeteries in Prague and Nagasaki: A Comparison

Parts of the former Jewish quarter of Josefov in Prague, Czech Republic remain beautifully intact, including several synagogues, a Jewish cemetery said to be the oldest in Europe, and antiquated buildings housing the Jewish Museum of Prague. Nazi forces demolished much of Josefov after occupying Prague in 1939 but spared the cemetery and a few other structures, apparently intending to use them as reminders of an "extinct race."  Most of the Jewish inhabitants meanwhile were evacuated to the Terezin concentration camp and later to Auschwitz and other death camps.

I visited the museum and cemetery one sun-washed morning in late August this year.  Among the displays in the museum were drawings done by children on their way to and in the concentration camps, brightly colored at first but increasingly dark and desperate.  The cemetery, which visitors pass on their way out of the complex, is remarkable for its hundreds of gravestones of varying age literally squeezed together and piled on top of each other to save space.  It was here that I noticed connections with Nagasaki.

Although not widely known, Nagasaki had a small but prosperous Jewish community around the turn of the 20th century.  Jews of various nationalities including Russia, Austria, Romania and Turkey began to arrive here after the Meiji Restoration of 1868.  Many opened bars, tailor shops and stores on the back streets of the foreign settlement; others like Morris Ginsburg and Sigmund Lessner established successful businesses and contributed to the development of Nagasaki as an international port.

In 1892, Ginsburg led the Jewish community in purchasing space for a Jewish burial ground in the newly opened Sakamoto International Cemetery.  The plot was located at a prime location near the cemetery entrance and featured a distinctive stone gate and walls with a cast-iron fence.  The number of burials increased in proportion to Nagasaki's activity as a port, so rapidly in fact that the plot, just like the Jewish cemetery in Prague, became full and any new gravestone had to be placed in the aisles or between existing gravestones.

Nagasaki was also the site of Japan’s first synagogue.  In September 1896, Sigmund Lessner joined with Haskel Goldenberg and other prominent Jewish entrepreneurs in establishing the Beth Israel Synagogue at No.11 Umegasaki, a single-story brick building featuring Japanese-style ceramic roof tiles and distinctive pear-shaped window awnings.  The synagogue bustled with residents and visitors during the busy years around the turn of the century.  In 1901, Lessner also founded local branches of the Jewish Benevolent Society and the Anglo-Jewish Association.

It was war, not religious or racial intolerance as in Europe, that sent the Jewish community of Nagasaki into decline.  Morris Ginsburg and his brothers, who held Russian passports, had to suspend their business activities and leave Japan during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5.  Sigmund Lessner faced a similar ordeal during World War I because he was an Austrian national and therefore labeled an "enemy" by both the Japanese and British governments.  

Lessner managed to revive his store and auction business after the war, but his sudden death in 1920 -- along with other factors including the rising cost of living in Japan and Nagasaki's decline as a venue for foreign trade -- precipitated a sharp drop in the number of Jewish residents.  By 1924, most of the Jewish businesses in the port had closed.  The Beth Israel Synagogue came under the administration of a Jewish organization in Shanghai and was sold off and converted into a warehouse.  By the time the atomic bomb explosion smashed windows and tore tiles off the rooftops of the Umegasaki neighborhood, few people even remembered the original function of the odd-looking building.

Today, the former Jewish quarters of Prague and other European cities are gone, and the descendants of the people who thrived and suffered there are scattered around the world.  In Nagasaki, the only reminder of the former Jewish community is a few inscriptions on gravestones in Sakamoto International Cemetery -- and the stories tucked away in the heart of an international port.

The old Jewish Cemetery in Prague, Czech Republic.

The Jewish section of Sakamoto International Cemetery in Nagasaki, seen from the rear.  Like its counterpart in Prague, the plot is congested with gravestones.  At the front is a gate with an inscription in Hebrew and the year 5653, equivalent to 1892, carved on one of the pillars.

(Left) A gravestone in the old Jewish Cemetery of Prague shows a pair of hands carved in relief, a symbol of priestly blessing.  (Right)  The same symbol is evident on a gravestone in the Jewish section of Sakamoto International Cemetery in Nagasaki.

The Beth Israel Synagogue was built in the rear portion of No.11 Umegasaki in 1896, the first Jewish place of worship in Japan.  The single-story brick building (right) had high shuttered windows with characteristic pear-shaped awnings.

Woodblock print by Nagasaki artist Tagawa Ken (1906-1967) depicting the former Beth Israel Synagogue in Umegasaki.  Tagawa was fascinated by the buildings of the Nagasaki Foreign Settlement, abandoned but still exuding the atmosphere of an age gone by.

After being sold off by auction in 1924, the former synagogue was used as a warehouse until finally falling to the wrecker's hammer in the 1960s.  All that remain today are a few of the stone structures nearby: the stairs leading up the hillside and parts of the gutter and embankment wall to the left.

Small bronze plaque implanted on the sidewalk in front of a house on a busy shopping street in Amsterdam.  A man named Abraham Bilderbeek lived there with his family until being arrested by the Nazi Gestapo and dragged to the Auschwitz death camp -- for what possible crime or infraction?

Your writer walking in front of Anne Frank House on the Prinsengracht canal in Amsterdam in early September 2012, trying to figure the whole thing out.

Nostalgia Britannica

The former British Consulate, completed in 1908, is one of 29 "Nationally Designated Important Cultural Assets" in Nagasaki city.  The 1992 designation ensured the physical preservation of the property but did not extend to the surrounding neighborhood.  As a result, the former consulate has become like "The Little House" in the famous Virginia Lee Burton story that sinks into the grime and shadow of urban sprawl.   Large-scale groundworks have erased the original line of the harbor, and the once narrow waterfront street is now a six-lane thoroughfare roaring day and night with traffic.  All of the other Western-style buildings that faced the harbor during Nagasaki's heyday as an international port are gone, leaving the consular buildings and gardens like an oasis of history hidden among a discordant cluster of modern office buildings, condominiums and hotels.

The former Nagasaki British Consulate (center, behind the trees) is surrounded by modern buildings and a wide thoroughfare.

Picture postcard (taken from approximately the same angle ca 1910) showing the British Consulate with old Western-style buildings on the left and right.

Launched in rented rooms at the Buddhist temple Myogyoji in 1859, the Nagasaki British Consulate was the first established in Japan after the opening of the country in the dying years of the Edo Period.  The consulate moved to a new building on the hillside at No.9 Higashiyamate in 1865 and watched over the development of the foreign settlement and the emergence of the city as a hub for commercial and cultural exchange.  The consulate moved again in 1882, this time to No.6 Oura, a prime location on the waterfront "Bund" in the center of the foreign settlement.  The British Commissioner of Works purchased the property two years later and acquired the perpetual lease.  Nagasaki enjoyed a golden age of prosperity between the Sino-Japanese War (1894-5) and Russo-Japanese War (1904-5), and the British decided to demolish the old wooden building and to erect a new building that would better reflect the British presence in the region.

William Cowan, a government architect employed in the Office of Works in Shanghai, submitted plans for the new building in 1906.  Trouble ensued -- the local companies contracted to carry out the work failed to observe deadlines and constantly demanded more money -- but the new consulate began operation in November 1908 and went on to become a familiar landmark on the Nagasaki waterfront.

The Union Jack flies in front of the Nagasaki British Consulate ca 1912.  The consulate boat is hoisted on the seawall to the right,  and a flight of steps leads down to the water from the street. 

Visitors entered the compound through one of the two front gates and opened the front door into the main building.  To the right of the entrance vestibule was the public area comprised of a large drawing room and dining room; to the left was the administrative section including a waiting room, offices of the consul and assistant, storage space and closets for archives, stationery and utensils.  Each of the main rooms featured an English-style coal-burning fireplace with a decorative wooden mantel and iron canopy.  The consul and his family lived in the second floor rooms of the main building, including four bedrooms and a study, bathroom and antechambers.  Out the back door was a long single-story building with a boiler room, coal shed, kitchen and servants’ quarters flanked by gardens.  The two-story building at the rear of the property was separated into two parts: one a Western-style brick structure that served as living space for the British assistant and shipping clerk, the other a wooden building with rows of tatami-matted compartments and other facilities for Japanese employees and their families.

(Then) The daughters of Nagasaki Consul Oswald White frolic (in their father's clothes) in the garden behind the main building of the consulate ca 1922.  (Now) The site remains remarkably unchanged, although a layer of concrete has been applied to the back wall of the main building.  (Photograph by Saya Burke-Gaffney) 

The last consul, Ferdinand C. Greatrex, assumed the post in 1929 and kept the consulate functioning -- like a captain refusing to budge from the helm of a sinking ship -- until December 8, 1941 when Japanese forces attacked Pearl Harbor and military police surrounded the premises and placed Greatrex and his wife under house arrest.  The couple remained in Nagasaki until being repatriated by exchange ship in July 1942.  Greatrex's last request was that his savings and personal belongings in Japan be transferred to Konishi Kizo, his faithful former Japanese employee and the last remnant of the consular staff.

During World War II, the buildings stood abandoned and forlorn on the Nagasaki waterfront, but, despite the hatred directed at Britain and its allies, they were not vandalized or defaced.  In fact the greatest damage was inflicted by the atomic bomb, which exploded about five kilometers to the north but smashed in windows and crushed part of the roof.

After the war, the former consulate underwent superficial repairs but remained unused until 1955, when the British government sold the property in its entirety to Nagasaki City.  Over the ensuing years, the buildings housed the Nagasaki Children's Science Museum and later the Noguchi Yataro Art Gallery.  The latter closed in 2007, and the building was left -- once again in its century-long history -- closed and empty in the midst of a changing cityscape, waiting for the repairs and earthquake-proofing planned by the Japanese government's Agency for Cultural Affairs.

The date of completion is still unclear, but it is hoped that, this time around, the former consular premises will be used to convey information about the role of the British consulate in the boom years of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the life and work of former consuls, and the contributions made by British residents to the industrial, economic and cultural development of Nagasaki.

To conclude, a few photographs:

The former Nagasaki British Consulate was being used as an art gallery before closing in 2007.  It is currently awaiting repairs and reinforcement work. 

Satellite photograph of the former Nagasaki British Consulate (blue box). 

The former Nagasaki British Consulate premises seen from the rear.  The brick building on the right accommodated the British assistant and shipping clerk, while the wooden building to the left served as living quarters for Japanese employees and their families.  The 1992 designation of the consulate as an "Important Cultural Asset" was based to a large extent on the excellent overall preservation of the property, including subsidiary buildings, stone walls and other structures. 

The entrance and gardens have changed little despite the passage of time and the roller-coaster ride of history.

The entrance vestibule seen from the inner staircase.

The fireplaces in each of the main rooms remain in remarkably good condition.  The mantlepiece in the former assistant's office bears the insignia "EviiR," an abbreviation for "Edward VII Regis."  King Edward VII was the reigning British monarch in 1908, the year the Nagasaki British Consulate reached completion.