In 1637 Iyemitsu, the third of the Tokugawa Shoguns had ordered that all vessels of seagoing capacity should be destroyed, and that no craft should henceforth be built of sufficient size to venture beyond home waters. It was also ordered that no Japanese subject should leave Japan, or if rash enough to do so should never return.
In addition the warning was issued that:
So long as the sun warms the earth, let no Christian be so bold as to come to Japan, and let all know that....if even the very God of the Christians, or the great Shaka (Buddha) contravene this prohibition, they shall pay for it with their heads.
Only the Dutch merchants were allowed to stay, cooped up on Deshima in Nagasaki harbour, and only Dutch vessels were allowed to come into the port of Nagasaki. The conditions imposed were arduous but the Dutch thought them worth while for the sake of the trade monopoly that they enjoyed.
All other vessels that came near Japan—and the brig "Cyprus" was one—were given the roughest reception that the authorities and the shore batteries considered it expedient to hand out.
While it is certain that Japan suffered an immeasurable loss by cutting herself off from the Western civilization and learning, it is equally certain that she lost nothing by driving away the "Cyprus" and her crew of desperate criminals.
THE
PRESIDENTS
LETTER
The Lord Shogun of Japan is notorious and well known in our country.
KING JAMES I of England, 1613
During the time that U.S. Consul-General Town-send Harris was kicking his heels in Shimoda, making caustic entries in his diary, and having what he termed "flare-ups" with the Japanese authorities, he was reading up on Japan from all sources available to him and endeavouring to learn something of the country in which he was hidden away in an unimportant corner, living in a temple in a fishing village on the outskirts of that backwash port of Shimoda.
He read up Dr. Kaempfer's accounts of Japan written about 160 years earlier and thus learned of all that was to be seen on the great highways of the land, long before he travelled over them, only to find when he did ultimately pass along the Tokaido, it was on such a conducted tour that the sights did not resemble in the least the detailed accounts given by Kaempfer.
It will be recalled that following the treaties negotiated with the Japanese in 1854 by Commodore Perry on behalf of the United States, similar treaties were signed by Britain, Russia and Holland during the following two years. Then in August 1856, Townsend Harris was dumped by an American warship at Shimoda as the first United States Consul-General or resident envoy in Japan, and there he raised the first consular flag ever seen in Japan. He had with him a certain quantity of stores, presents, and a letter from President Pierce of the United States addressed to His Majesty the Emperor of Japan. His instructions were to conclude with the Japanese a treaty of amity and commerce. This he succeeded in doing after months of patience and perseverance, of determination and courage, and without the backing of any display of force. But over two years were to elapse before the letter could be delivered and by then Pierce had been succeeded by James Buchanan as President of the United States.
Harris on arrival at Shimoda was accompanied by a secretary and interpreter, a young Hollander, Henry C. J. Heusken, and by two Chinese servants, one a cook, the other a tailor. Because the Dutch language was the only European language of which the Japanese knew anything, the Dutch interpreter was essential. But Heusken was able to make himself better understood with some of the local wenches with whom he had many an affair, than with the official Japanese interpreters who used a mercantile patois or pidgin Dutch that had been the lingua franca in Nagasaki for two hundred years. This unfortunate young man was one of many Europeans who during the following years was hacked to death by the swords of assassins.
From the first day of arrival Harris was subject to what he referred to as "the wearing down process" which proved to be a severe strain on his nerves and on his health. Nevertheless he pursued his set course with a firm determination refusing to compromise on principles. The effect on his health was such that within six months he had lost 40 lbs in weight. The effect on his nerves and the exasperation that this lone negotiator suffered is well illustrated by various pungent entries in his diary, of which the following are samples:
9 Sept., 1856.
I am determined to take firm ground with the Japanese. I will cordially meet any real offers of amity, but words will not do. They are the greatest liars on earth.
11 Sept., 1856.
Had a flare-up with the officials who told me some egregious lies.
21 May, 1857.
This is a Japanese custom,—always advance the price, but never lower it.
Christmas Day, 1856, was a lonely day. In addition he was sick and unhappy. New Year's Day was equally unhappy and was devoted to exchanging greetings with Mr. Heusken and in paying "my Chinese servants the customary cumshaw" On the 8th January he had a "stormy debate" with the governor complaining that "not a single Japanese came near me on New Year's Day demanding that the spies and guards who surrounded his consulate be withdrawn and citing various infractions of Perry's treaty and the inhospitable treatment he personally had suffered.
Half a year later he wrote in his diary:
I am now more than ten months in Japan, and have not as yet received a single letter from the United States. As no direct communication is allowed by sea between Shimoda and Hakodate by Japanese junks, my supplies might as well be at Hong-Kong as there. I have been out of flour, bread, butter, lard, bacon, hams, sweet oil, and in fact out of every kind of foreign supply for more than two months. I am living on rice, fish, and very poor poultry.... My health is miserable. My appetite is gone, and I am so shrunk a way that I look as though a vice-consul had been cut out of me. Then on 21st August, 1857, he wrote: One year here and not a single letter from America.
His servants then comprised "a butler, cook and his mate, washman, two houseboys, one water-carrier, one sweeper, one gardener, one groom—in all ten persons, and not one that I can do withoutIn addition to difficulties with his Chinese servants he also had other housekeeping difficulties as is evidenced by the entry:
The wages of my two Japanese boys are at last settled at 6 bu per month or about 2 dollars. The Vice-Governor last December wanted me to pay them 16 dollars per month!
On the subject of being consistently overcharged, Harris has much to say in his diary, but let us pass on.
Harris was not only given to criticism. After a visit to the Governor, his first official call, he wrote in his diary:
Our visit lasted nearly two hours and we were much pleased with the appearance and manners of the Japanese. I repeat they are superior to any people east of the Cape of Good Hope.
When a new Governor was appointed he made the following entry:
The new Governor was cold and rude; not even the raw brandy, which he and others drank, seemed to warm his heart or thaw him towards us.
On another occasion Harris recorded in Ms diary:
They were so unreasonable and so inconsistent that I could not help suspecting the champagne which I sent to them had not operated favourably.
After about ten months discussion with the Japanese commissioners who had been sent from Yedo to negotiate with him in Shimoda, an agreement was reached on all provisions for a convention with Japan, which was duly signed on 17th June, 1857.
There was still however the matter of the delivery of the President's letter to the Emperor of Japan. The Japanese wished to receive delivery in Shimoda, whereas Harris demanded and insisted upon going to Yedo and delivering it in person to the Shogun who was then believed to be the Emperor. This presented difficulties for the Japanese, because for nearly seven hundred years the Mikado or actual Emperor had been kept in the strictest seclusion in Kyoto, whilst the country was administered by Shoguns or powerful military dictators or families. Indeed at certain periods the common people had lost sight of the Mikado's existence, so much
was he overshadowed by the Shogunate.
So little was known or had been heard of the Mikado by the Western world, that the Shogun was commonly taken to be the sovereign and thus it was to him that Harris insisted upon delivering the President's letter.
No doubt with a view to reducing the deception to a minimum the Japanese endeavoured to receive delivery of the letter in Shimoda, and even produced what they represented to be an Imperial mandate claiming that the laws of the country forbade audiences with the Emperor and authorising them to receive the letter. But still Harris remained adamant. Finally in September it was agreed that he should proceed to Yedo to be received in audience by the Shogun, or the Emperor as Harris imagined, and there present the President's letter. Many negotiations then followed as to the manner in which he should travel, the procedure to be adopted at the audience, whether he should kowtow, or "knock-head" as Harris refers to it in his diary. However on all these matters Harris had definite ideas of his own, from which he never swerved.
Much preparation was necessary. Happi-coats and other clothing bearing the coat of arms of the United States of America with the motto E pluribus unum had to be prepared for the bearers of the palanquin and for the porters who were to carry the luggage, bedding, food, cooking utensils, and the many presents, comprising, as the temperance organizations of America must be shocked to know, a plentiful supply of champagne, sherry, cherry brandy and other liquor, cordials, decanters, books of natural history, a telescope, barometer, astral lamps and preserved fruits.
Just before departure, Harris was informed that Shogun was not the proper appelation of the ruler of Japan but that it was Tai-kun (Tycoon)—a matter of considerable surprise to Harris considering that for more that a year he had been talking to the Japanese negotiators and writing about the Shogun. But greater surprises were yet to come.
The procession finally got under way and started out from Shimoda on 23rd November, 1857. The whole train including the many Japanese officials and their retinue numbered over 150 persons. Harris finding riding in a palanquin far too cramped and painful, both he and Heusken rode on horseback preceded by the American flag. All packages of luggage were covered with black cotton cloth, bearing the arms of the United States.
Harris recalled Kaempfer's description of the highways of Japan and especially of the Tokaido and looked forward to seeing the bustle of life and the throng of travellers along what must then have been one of the busiest and most picturesque highways of the world. At the historic barrier, or check point, in Hakone village he refused as a diplomatic representative to submit to a search, or even to permit, as was then suggested, a token search of his empty palanquin, and he threatened to return to Shimoda if the Japanese inspectors persisted in making a search. The procession was thereupon permitted to pass.
The great Tokaido road had been cleared of all traffic, even the surface had been swept. The travellers, priests, pilgrims, nuns, beggars, teahouse touts and mountebanks had disappeared. The houses and shops, other than teahouses and eating stalls, were closed; and the people, dressed in their best clothes, were collected in front of their houses sitting silent and motionless on the ground as he passed. The cross roads and the paths leading into the Tokaido had been closed with straw ropes. It was a conducted tour, much as the Emperor is given these days. The journey occupied seven days and Harris finally entered Yedo painfully riding in his palanquin. He had originally planned to make an entry on horseback. Harris relates that "The vice-governor eagerly encouraged that idea. This excited my suspicion" After much enquiry Harris discovered that only those of inferior rank entered Yedo on horseback or on foot. He thereupon changed his plans and entered Yedo painfully cramped in a palanquin.
In this manner Harris came to Yedo, the first foreigner ever to visit that city in a diplomatic capacity. A week later he became the first person ever to approach the Tycoon indoors wearing shoes. Harris always made it a practice to put on clean new patent-leather shoes just before entering Japanese buildings; as the envoy of a great country he refused to slop about in stocking feet even when approaching Great Presences. Walking on tatami in shoes was thus for Harris no new experience. At long last he entered the audience chamber of the Shogun and on hearing the chamberlain announce in a loud voice "Embassador Merican" he advanced with due ceremony among the members of the Council who were "prostrate on their faces" and "end on" towards him. Thus at last the President's letter addressed to the Emperor of Japan was finally delivered to the Tycoon who graciously, but doubtless with tongue in cheek, received it.
During the several months that followed it gradually dawned on Harris that Yedo was not the Imperial capital, that the Shogun or Tycoon was not an Emperor, but that the sovereign of Japan was the Mikado who was hidden away in Kyoto, and that events were shaping in Japan which would eventually lead to the latter personage assuming again his rightful position. The great secret which the Yedo government had been attempting to hide from the Western Powers was gradually leaking out.
In short the patient and conscientious Townsend Harris after fifteen months of negotiation and effort had been hoodwinked and had delivered the President's letter to the wrong person!
BLACK-EYED
SUSAN
The light that Lies in women's eyes.
THOMAS MOORE
This is an account of a bloody murder and of how prosperity and fame came to the proprietress of a roadside teahouse on the Tokaido, the main highway in Japan and the great artery in feudal days that connected the southwestern parts with Yedo, as Tokyo was then known.
The teahouse was between Kanagawa and Tokyo. It was one of many modest establishments set among the old pine trees that lined the Tokaido for much of its length. One of the many places where a traveller could rest for ippuku—one puff of the small pipes that were in use in those days—sip tea or rice wine and enjoy clams which were the specialty of the house. The pine trees can still be seen in some places, but alas, many were ruthlessly cut down when the overland telephone and telegraph lines were erected.
In feudal days the Tokaido was one of the most picturesque and colourful of the world's highways. Priests and pilgrims, porters and post boys, merchants and pedlars, mountebanks and minstrels, pack-horses and palanquins, travellers wealthy and lowly were constantly passing along this narrow avenue overhung with curiously-shaped pine trees. In dry weather the road was dusty. In wet weather it was often a quagmire of mud. The foot travellers with their kimono tucked up to their thighs trudged along under the shade of the old trees, while the lords and ladies dozed in their palanquins hidden from the common gaze by fine bamboo blinds.
Occasionally runners came arrogantly announcing the approach of a daimyo (a military governor) with raucous cries of Shita-ni-iro! Shita-ni-iro!—"Down! Down on your knees!"—whereupon all those not of samurai rank (military class) were required to move to the side of the road, kneel, and when the palanquin of the lord passed to bow down until their foreheads touched the dust. The same order Shita-ni-iro was revived about eighty years later and became a familiar one, and one of sore trial, to Allied prisoners of war in Japanese hands.
One Sunday afternoon in September, 1862, an English lady from Hongkong and three Englishmen, two of whom were Yokohama residents and the third, Richardson by name, a business man from Shanghai on a visit to Japan before going home to retire, set out for a ride along the Tokaido. They left Yokohama by boat for Kanagawa, which was then separated from Yokohama across a small bay, and there joined the horses that had been sent on ahead. After leaving Kanagawa they were unfortunate enough to meet a large daimyo procession and particularly that of the Lord Shimazu, Daimyo of Satsuma, one of the proudest and most powerful governors of the land.
The foreigners' account of what followed differs in some details from the Japanese version which was released thirteen years later. According to the foreign account the party drew up their horses at the side of the road and then in compliance with signs that they should go back, they turned their horses towards Yo
kohama, when, without provocation, some of the retinue drew their swords and attacked them. All four were injured, but they managed to gallop through the ranks of their assailants. Richardson was most grievously wounded, his bowels protruding from sword cuts. Finally he fell from his horse. The other three were able to escape and eventually summoned help from the consulates in Kanagawa. The foreign military guard which then set out found the body of Richardson lying off the road dreadfully mangled with sword cuts and spear wounds and covered with matting.
It is stated in the official records of this case that Richardson must have fallen from his horse in a faint and that when he came to he was able to drag himself to the bank at the side of the road where he called for water, but that none of the spectators or those passing by dared offer him a drink. Finally his throat was cut by some of Satsuma's men, mercifully, we hope. A post-mortem examination revealed that he had suffered ten wounds any one of which could have been fatal.
The verdict of the court of inquest was:
that the deceased Charles Lenox Richardson was feloniously wilfully and of malice aforethought killed and murdered by certain Japanese armed with swords, lances and other arms after the fashion of their country....
This verdict was challenged some thirteen years later when a pamphlet written by an American was published which purported to give the Satsuma version of the incident, wherein it was alleged that the party of foreigners had given offence by disregarding the customs of the country in not dismounting while the procession passed, that Richardson had recklessly pushed his horse in and out of the groups forming the cortege, and had continued to hold the centre of the road even when the palanquin of the Lord Shimazu approached.
Shades of the Past Page 6
