A DIPLOMAT IN JAPAN, by Ernest Satow. New York/Tokyo: ICG Muse, Inc., 2000, 424 pp., 1,300 yen.

This is a welcome reissue of the long-out-of-print 1921 edition of Ernest Satow's memoirs. Its contents are indicated in his original subtitle: "The inner history of the critical years in the evolution of Japan when the ports were opened and the monarch restored, recorded by a diplomatist who took an active part in the events of the time, with an account of his personal experiences during that period."

Satow was only 19 years old when he was sent by the British diplomatic service to Yokohama in 1862. There he became a translator; five years later he was secretary to the British Embassy. Later he left Japan and distinguished himself in a number of important diplomatic posts.

Satow is best remembered for his work in Japan -- first, because the times were so stirring and, second, because his reaction to them was so exemplary. The Tokugawa shogunate was losing its authority and the domains of Choshu (now Yamaguchi) and Satsuma (now Kagoshima) wanted to restore the Emperor to power and thus share some of that power.

Satow took up residence in the Yokohama settlement, where he studied the language and partook of whatever diversions were offered. There was shopping -- "a complete set of Hokusai's 'manga' could be had for a couple of dollars" -- and there was sight-seeing.

"Japan came to be known as a country where the foreigner carried his life in his hand," and in that hand was the revolver that Satow bought even before coming. He stopped carrying it in 1869, because he had "come to the conclusion that the weight was inconvenient and that if any bloodthirsty two-sworded gentleman intended to take our lives, he would leave us no chance of anticipating his purpose with a bullet."

There was also the spectacle of the shogunate to view. Satow watched as "the real power fell into the hands of ministers and, eventually, private secretaries . . . The machine in fact had been so skillfully constructed that a child could keep it turning. Political stagnation was mistaken for stability."

This mistake was made by the French ambassador. Not so the British representative. This was the wily and irascible Sir Harry Parkes -- Satow's superior. Of him his subordinate later wrote, "He was strict and severe in service matters, but . . . a faithful friend to all who won his good will." Then, with a candor as rare then in a diplomat as it is now, he adds, "I was not one of these, and the result was that from the beginning we were never friends, down to the very last."

Another result, perhaps, was that Satow retained a freedom and fairness of vision that is also rare among diplomats. He knew what the Japanese felt as they saw foreigners "invading" their country. Consequently he appreciated ordinary Japanese good manners -- "How different from some Europeans!"

Still, he wrote with a straight face that "all the English wanted was the good of the Japanese as a nation"; he was, after all, a diplomat. Yet these memoirs are extraordinarily free of political cant.

The reader will also be entertained by the slaughter, the machinations on all sides, and the wonder of being the first foreigner in many places. Kyoto is entered after having been long closed to outsiders, and there is the spectacle of the civil war and the reinstatement of the Emperor.

There are also the first glimpses of the Emperor (later Meiji). The initial impression is that of a large boy whose "complexion was white, perhaps artificially so rendered, his mouth badly formed, what a doctor would call prognathous, but general contour is good. His eyebrows were shaven off, and painted in an inch higher." He was also seemingly timid and "forgot his speech."

On Nov. 26, 1868, a much more presentable Emperor, thoroughly in command of himself, entered Edo in the familiar imperial manner. Satow, in the crowd, was impressed, though he deplored in the procession "the horribly untidy soldiers with unkempt hair and clothing vilely imitated from the West."

Then -- mission accomplished -- it was time to go. "I felt tears come into my eyes . . . regret at leaving a country where I had lived so happily for six years and a half." With him he took his samurai friend, Noguchi Tomizo, and the journals that he used to create his fascinating memoir.

This is presented here just as it was in 1921 -- original typos and all. It would have been nice to have had some kind of presentation -- a critical foreword perhaps, pointing out just how important this book is and how neglected it has been until now.

Among the reasons for the neglect is certainly the misapprehension that the author was Japanese and a consequent assumption that he would have an agenda. The vagaries of romanization are indeed such that Satow is still a native rendering. Actually, the diplomat's name was Swedish in origin.

The resemblance occasioned him little difficulty and some advantage. "Owing to my name being a common Japanese surname, it was easily passed on from one to another, and I was talked about by people I had never met." Reassured, people sought him out and Satow learned more about the real nature of the country than any of his compatriots.

He passes on this knowledge in this complete reprint, sturdily bound, inexpensive -- one of the most important histories of its period.