Jumbo's Hide, Elvis's Ride, and the Tooth of Buddha

by Harvey Rachlin

  A boat in which stood a man holding an official-looking document was rebuffed by the Susquehanna, then pulled alongside the Mississippi; the man read in French from his paper that the visitors should leave the area. Soon another boat came abreast of the Susquehanna, and one of its occupants proceeded to converse in Dutch with the interpreter on board the ship. After asking many questions about the foreigners, he implored them to let him on board, but he was told that the vessel’s commander was of the highest rank in his branch of service, the “Lord of the Forbidden Interior,” who could meet only with the highest-ranking official of the city. The Japanese man responded that the vice governor was in his company and that he was of the highest rank, but when asked why the governor himself had not come, he replied that the governor was by law not allowed to board visiting ships. The man offered an intelligent compromise: if the rank of Perry as Lord of the Forbidden Interior was too high to permit him to meet with a mere vice governor, a lesser personage with a rank equivalent to that of the vice governor might receive the Japanese delegation aboard ship. After deliberately stalling a bit, Commodore Perry agreed.

  The Japanese interpreter and vice governor climbed the Susquehanna’s gangway ladder and were led to a private cabin; Perry, closeted in adjoining quarters, conducted the exchange by way of a subordinate. The commodore made it known that he carried a letter from the United States president addressed to the emperor of Japan and that he would permit an appropriate official to come on board to see a translation of the document as a prelude to the commodore personally delivering the letter to the empire’s highest-ranking official. The vice governor interjected that they faced the immediate problem of the strictures of Japanese law, which mandated that matters of foreign affairs be conducted only at Nagasaki. Perry stood his ground and adamantly refused to budge from Uraga. To move his ships to Nagasaki, where the Dutch had a post,* might, Perry knew, subject the Americans to the same restrictions the Japanese had imposed on the Dutch; and the latter, having warned the Japanese about the coming American expedition, might view the Americans as rivals and even try to subvert their mission. The commodore preferred to remain in Uraga because of its proximity to Yedo, which he believed to be the home of the emperor.

  The following morning a boat bearing a group of Japanese artists drew near the visiting vessels so that the artists might make detailed sketches. Later in the day a delegation of high-ranking officials approached the Susquehanna. An interpreter communicated that the governor of Uraga wished to board the ship (contrary to the vice governor’s notice the previous day that his superior could not do this), and permission was granted. The governor was shown President Fillmore’s letter and Commodore Perry’s commission, both reposing in stately gold containers, by Perry’s highest-ranking officer. The governor offered his American counterpart some Japanese delicacies he had brought with him. Then he once again raised the issue of moving the site of the Americans’ business to Nagasaki, but the commodore refused, stating through his officer that, if necessary, he would take a force of men on land to personally present the American president’s letter to the emperor. The governor, whose name was Kayama Yezaiman, had no other recourse but to say that he would make the appropriate inquiry to the court at Yedo to see how to proceed, and departed the American ship.

  The "Five Full Powers in Blank," signed by President Millard Fillmore, that authorized Commodore Matthew Perry to negotiate treaties with Japan as he deemed appropriate.

  For three days the American squadron remained in Yedo Bay. During the wait, Perry dispatched survey boats to make observations of the shores and record scientific soundings of the harbor’s depths so ships entering the bay in the future would not run aground on rocks, all under the careful watch of the Japanese in boats and armed soldiers onshore who appeared ready to engage in confrontation.

  A reply came on the morning of Tuesday, July 12—or at least it seemed it would, when sailors aboard the American ships spotted three boats departing from Uraga, with one boat, set apart from the others by a special flag, eventually pulling out from the others to approach the Susquehanna. On the boat was Kayama Yezaiman, who climbed aboard the American flagship with his entourage, including two interpreters. A conference was held once again between the governor and two of Perry’s top officers, the commodore cloistered in his cabin and participating through an aide. The Japanese governor began by explaining that there had been a misunderstanding regarding the conveyance of the translated documents. The commodore, though doubting the misunderstanding, rejected the governor’s offer of a high-ranking Japanese official to receive the papers with transmission to Nagasaki via either a Chinese or Dutch agent. Perry repeated by written message that he would not go to Nagasaki or receive communication via a Chinese or Dutch agent and would deliver the letter from the president of the United States to none other than the emperor of Japan or his foreign affairs secretary.

  The governor took leave of the ship to return to Uraga to confer with a city court official and came back later in the day to continue the negotiations. After much discussion of the delivery of the translated copies and originals, the specific Japanese official who would receive the communications, and the place of reception, it was agreed that a person of the necessary rank, whose authority must be affirmed in a document signed by the emperor, would receive the original letters and the translated copies not on board any American ship but on land; and that the commodore would not wait for the emperor’s reply but would return months later for it.

  The meeting concluded with the Americans offering their distinguished guests the hospitality of the ship. The governor spent several enjoyable hours on board, consuming so many spirits that his face turned red.

  Commodore Perry and his crew deliver President Millard Fillmore's letter addressed to the emperor of Japan requesting that Japan and America develop friendly relations and commence commercial trade with one another. The Japanese erected a special building for the formal reception of the letter.

  The next day the governor returned to the Susquehanna in the afternoon with the documents required by the commodore: a letter from the emperor of Japan, to which a seal was attached, addressed to Toda, the prince of Idzu, first counselor of the empire, authorizing him to receive the letter of the American president, along with a certificate of authenticity in the governor’s hand and a Dutch translation.

  Fine details of the exchange were worked out. Perry’s survey boats had determined that the ships could be placed within firing distance of the site of the colloquy onshore, for protection in case the Japanese planned a betrayal. The commodore’s men now informed the governor that it would not be appropriate to the commodore’s rank for him to travel a great distance from the ship in a boat, so the Japanese were forced to agree to allow the Americans to bring their squadron in closer to shore.

  In the evening, after the visiting dignitaries had left the Susquehanna, Perry met with the captains of his fleet to work out security and other details for the parley. From the shore could be heard the clattering sounds of construction, and the bay was busy with boats preparing for the event.

  The occasion that was the object of all the negotiation, planning, and activity was finally realized on Thursday, the 14th of July, a day that began with haze but that cleared into bright sunshine. Before eight in the morning, the Susquehanna and the Mississippi began to edge nearer the shore, several Japanese boats following in close proximity. Spread out on the beach ahead were ornamental screens of cloth stretched over beams of wood and numerous colorful banners, along with several divisions of Japanese soldiers.

  At a signal from the American flagship, boats were launched from the other vessels of the squadron filled with officers, marines, sailors, and musicians wearing the full-dress uniforms of their service, who were to precede the commodore to the ceremony. A flotilla of more than fifteen boats plus two Japanese vessels, one carrying Kayama Yezaiman, proceeded down Yedo Bay accompanied by lively music. When the party was halfway to its destination,
the cannons on board the flagship were fired to proclaim that Commodore Matthew Perry, Lord of the Forbidden Interior, would now leave his vessel to proceed to the ceremony.

  When the flotilla reached shore, the crews disembarked and formed into lines according to their ranks. The assemblage was impressive: three hundred Americans and at least five thousand armed Japanese soldiers, many on horseback, arrayed across the beach.

  As Perry stepped onshore, his accompanying staff formed a double line through which he passed. Then the procession began. The governor of Uraga and his interpreter led the way, followed by American seamen, a pair of boys carrying the imposing boxes containing President Fillmore’s letter and Commodore Perry’s commission, and then the commodore himself, flanked by tall, armed Negro seamen. Two of the most muscular of the American sailors, carefully chosen from among the crews, bore a ceremonial banner and the American flag. The latter was a thirty-one-star wool bunting ensign with thirteen red and white stripes—the first American flag ever to be officially carried onto Japanese soil.

  The Americans found that for residents of such an isolated country, the Japanese were surprisingly well informed about the United States. Earlier, when a globe had been placed before some Japanese dignitaries aboard the Susquehanna, without hesitation they pointed out New York City and Washington, D.C. The people of Japan had heard many stories about the vast country that lay across the Pacific, but with Perry’s mission they were first seeing up close its flag, the red, white, and blue symbol of unity revered by the people of the United States of America half a world away, now proudly carried to an official meeting between the two nations.

  The procession wound its way around a path to the wooden building specially erected for the occasion in the small village of Gori-Hama. A decorated canvas tent formed an entranceway connected by a carpet to an anteroom. Following this was the reception hall, which was raised off the ground, its floor covered by red cloth and its walls adorned with purple silk ornaments.

  When Commodore Perry entered the room, the two imperial counselors, Prince Toda of Idzu and Prince Ido of Iwami, stood up to greet their guest with a bow, but they made no utterance and indeed remained silent throughout the ceremony. The commodore and his entourage were seated, and after several minutes of dignified silence a Japanese interpreter told his American counterpart in Dutch that Prince Toda was ready to receive the letters, inquiring whether they were ready for conveyance. The American interpreter imparted the request to the commodore, who motioned to the boys to proceed with the delivery. The boys walked to the front of the room, followed by the Negroes, who took from their hands the gold boxes, withdrew the letters, which were adorned with silk cords, and placed them on a varnished scarlet chest set on a table.

  Of the four documents—Fillmore’s letter, Perry’s commission, and two letters from the commodore to the emperor—the president’s letter was of greatest historical importance. Fillmore proposed to the emperor that America and Japan “should live in friendship and have commercial intercourse with each other.” Aware that “the ancient laws of your imperial majesty’s government do not allow trade, except with the Chinese and the Dutch,” Fillmore observed that as “the state of the world changes and new governments are formed, it seems to be wise, from time to time, to make new laws,” and suggested that free trade between the United States and Japan “would be extremely beneficial to both.” The president also asked that the Japanese treat Americans who were shipwrecked on Japanese shores with kindness. Finally, he requested that American steamships be allowed to stop in Japan to replenish their stores of coal and other necessary provisions. The president ended his letter urging the emperor to accept some presents made in the United States and intended “as tokens of our sincere and respectful friendship.”

  This thirty-one star American flas was officially carried into Japan in July 1853 during Commodore Perry's expedition.

  After the delivery Yezaiman, who had been kneeling, arose and then fell to his knees before the prince, who handed him an imperial receipt for the American documents. In a similar fashion the governor transmitted the receipts to the commodore.

  With the delivery concluded, the commodore communicated through his interpreter that in a few days the American squadron would leave Japan, to return the following spring for a response to the president’s letter. Those present filed out in formal silence, and the procession returned as it had come to the landing area, which was filled with Japanese government vessels on the water and soldiers on the shore. With Perry’s boat in the lead, the flotilla headed toward the American ships, the musicians aboard performing patriotic tunes.

  Because he had heard of the arrival in Japan of a Russian emissary, Commodore Perry returned to Japan earlier than planned, on March 8, 1854, with an augmented squadron of ships, arriving in Yedo Bay. The Japanese emperor seemed reluctant to sign a pact of amity, but may have realized that the country’s isolation policy was becoming outmoded and could create serious problems for Japan. Several weeks later, on March 31, he agreed to sign the Treaty of Kanagawa with the United States, providing for the opening of two Japanese ports to U.S. vessels with an American consul at one of them. Perry signed the treaty with a brown-painted bamboo pen that he had acquired in China and carried home the treaty in a rectangular cardboard box with a lift-off top, also from China (both items at the U.S. Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, Maryland). As tokens of appreciation and to demonstrate the potential for commercial enterprise between the two nations, the commodore bestowed numerous gifts on the Japanese, including scientific and communications instruments, agricultural tools, liquor, books, swords, firearms, and a miniature railroad.

  The effects of the pact were astounding, bringing Japan out of the past and opening the country to trade and interaction with foreign nations. Within a few years Japan opened ports for American ships to put in to for protection in bad weather as well as for trading, and soon other countries signed agreements with Japan similar to its treaty with America. With Japan’s education, manufacturing, banking, and other enterprises updated and improved, and its feudal system soon eliminated, Japan entered the modern world.

  Much that followed for Japan in the ensuing years was the result of Commodore Perry’s insightful diplomatic negotiation. Japan’s relationship with the United States—and ultimately with the rest of the world—had its formal birth in the ceremony of July 14, 1853.

  For the United States, the flag raised in Japan symbolized its national and commercial interests in the Pacific; to Japan, the flag was emblematic of the pressures from the outside world to shed its isolation. The success of this enterprise demonstrates that relations between alien nations may be accomplished peacefully and graciously, that diplomacy can triumph over fear and hostility, that force should be used only in self-defense. The flag represents not just the desire of a free and independent nation to expand its trade and diplomatic relations, but the yearning of a people to seek out other civilizations and forge bonds with different races in the spirit of a common humanity.

  LOCATION: United States Naval Academy Museum, Annapolis, Maryland.*

  Footnotes

  *The president’s authorization of “Five Full Powers in Blank” conferred on Perry the power of plenipotentiary for negotiating a treaty. The Great Seal of the United States, most commonly affixed to treaties, proclamations, and instruments investing authority in American emissaries, is by law under the custodianship of the Secretary of State, has limited uses, and may only be affixed to a commission that bears the signature of the president.

  *Japan’s relationship with the government of the Netherlands was so minor that the island nation was still effectively isolated from the Western world. Japan permitted the Dutch to maintain a post so it could acquire European products it needed, and so the Dutch could transport Japanese goods out of the country. But Japan imposed rigorous restrictions on their trade, and the shoguns treated the Dutch in the most degrading manner. Even Japanese who worked for the Dutch were required to
profess anti-Christian sentiments.

  *Dr. Ninian Pinkney, an Annapolis naval surgeon who served under Matthew Perry during the Mexican War, presented the flag on behalf of the commodore to the U.S. Naval Academy during graduation exercises on June 12, 1855.

  THE EMANCIPATION

  PROCLAMATION

  DATE: 1862 (for the First and Preliminary drafts); 1863 (for the Final Proclamation).

  WHAT IT IS: President Abraham Lincoln’s decree outlawing slavery in the rebel states of America.

  WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE: There are four surviving Emancipation Proclamations—two original manuscripts in Lincoln’s hand and two engrossed (formally scripted) copies. The first draft (read by Lincoln to his cabinet in July 1862) is on standard blue-lined paper and is one-and-a-half pages long, with each sheet measuring 11½ inches long by 7¾ inches wide. The Preliminary Proclamation of September 22, 1862, also in Lincoln’s hand, is on four pages that each measure 13¹¹/₁₆ inches long by 8³/₁₆ inches wide and contain some words that are crossed out as well as two blocks of printed material that were pasted on. There is an engrossed copy of the Preliminary Proclamation that consists of seven pages with dimensions of 16⁵/₈ inches long and 10⁵/₈ inches wide. The engrossed “final” Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863, with Abraham Lincoln’s signature, is a document comprising two large sheets of paper folded into a folio format and subsequently separated so the writing fills five of the eight pages of the folded paper (with three pages blank); its dimensions (like those of the engrossed Preliminary Proclamation) are 16⁵/₈ inches long by 10⁵/₈ inches wide.