Part 3

“I am afraid that the coming of the barbarians promises evil days, not only for the Tokugawa, but for all the clans. You, gentlemen, remember, how the arrival of the fireships and the signing of the first treaty was followed by incessant earthquakes,[B] how the ocean rose in its fury, and overwhelmed the barbarian ship, supposed to be safely at anchor at Shimoda.[C] Surely, gentlemen, the gods of Japan themselves fought for our country. But the Go rojiu was blind. Was not the Shogun Iyeyoshi himself killed for not defying the barbarians by expelling them? ‘We are not strong enough,’ says the Regent. There was a time when the countless hosts of Kublai Khan, the conqueror of the world, were hurled upon our shores. What became of them? Tenshi Sama prayed to his ancestors and they, the gods of our country, destroyed the invader. We have nothing to fear, except our own faint-heartedness. Are we, the samurai of Japan, unworthy of our ancestors? Have our muscles grown weak that we can no longer wield the sword? Out upon us, then, for cowards! If the Tokugawa be a coward, out upon the Tokugawa. Choshiu, Kaga, Satsuma, and Tosa, ought to be able to dispose of the foreigners and at the same time of the Tokugawa brood. Let us send confidential messengers to those clans, and, after we have arranged with them, send Mr. Sawa back to Yedo, securely packed in a box labelled: This side up; handle with care!”

A smile of approbation passed through the assembly; only Kano’s face showed no sign. It was now his turn to speak, and, after toying with his fan, as if collecting his thoughts, he began:

“Honorable Councillors, I agree with the last speaker that the arrival of the foreigners bodes evil for our country. I do not believe that they will try to make war upon us, unless indeed, we provoke it ourselves. At the present time, at any rate, we are not in a condition to provoke a quarrel. For the past two hundred years the world has moved, and we have stood still; that is why we are helpless. We have found out something. These barbarians possess ships which go wherever they want them, without regard to tide and wind. We must have such ships and learn how to handle them. We, sons of Japan, are not naturally brainless; we can learn what the barbarians have learned, and by hard work, we may be able to surpass them. There may be some trouble with the Tokugawa, but I do not think so, unless they send us another metsuke besides Mr. Sawa. I have taken the measure of that gentleman, and do not think that it would take much gold to make him deaf and blind. But we need not take him into our confidence. We should send a trusty messenger to Nagasaki, and at whatever cost buy some of the books of the Hollanders. Surely, some merchants will be found there who understand that language and teach us. Besides, we must repair our forts, and buy new cannon. Our samurai must practice with their arms during every moment of leisure. Then, gentlemen, when the time comes, we shall be prepared, be it to avenge Sekigahara and the Castle of Osaka, or to drive the barbarian into the sea. My honored ancestor gave the same advice to our illustrious lord’s forefather. Oh! that it had been accepted. Mori looks now upon Kii and Owari,[38] and grinds his teeth at the thought that their people, once his property, are now arraigned among his foes. Kano’s arm and muscle are as ready for the fray, as those of the youngest warrior, and he will not be the last to unsheath his sword, nor the first to return it to its scabbard. Self-restraint is often much more difficult than exposure to danger.

“The advice of Mr. Hattori supposes that the councillors of Kaga, Satsuma, and Tosa are of our opinion. But we have a feud with Satsuma, who might seize such an opportunity to bring all the power of the Tokugawa down upon us. It is said, and I believe it from what I have seen at Yedo, that the samurai of the Shogun have lost their courage. But what of Mito, Aidzu, Kii, Owari, and the host of other daimiyo ready to march at the Go rojiu’s bidding. Gentlemen, an excuse for the Tokugawa to fall upon us _at this time_, would mean ruin for our clan. We cannot even entertain the thought. But we must watch for our opportunity, and when it comes we must be prepared to strike. At present, let it be understood that Mr. Sawa must be perfectly safe in whatever part of Choshiu’s domain, but let him be followed, and let his every step be dogged. Every word he utters, even in his sleep, and every syllable he writes must be known to us. Mr. Hattori, will you please, see to it that this is done.”

The council agreed with Kano, as it had always done; and it was decided that a sum of money should be placed at Kano’s disposal to procure the necessary books and a teacher at Nagasaki. These resolutions were drawn up, and sent to the adviser of the daimiyo to be sealed, after which they became a law.

And the daimiyo? Oh! he was a _Great Name_ only. He never interfered with the affairs of the clan, and did not know anything about them. It was the same with the Shogun at Yedo. His seal was used, and laws were made of which he had never heard; and so it was with Tenshi Sama at Kyoto. All these men, Daimiyo, Shogun, and Tenshi Sama were considered as gods, and nobody but their highest servants were ever allowed to look upon them. If any of them was compelled to travel, they were placed in a norimono, with close blinds, and men ran ahead crying: Shita ni iru![39] Down on your knees. Very few people knew the names of the councillors who did rule in Japan, but the names of those who did not rule, were generally known.

VI

YOUNG KANO GROWS UP

While the Choshiu clan as well as the other clans of Japan, were anxiously watching the opening of Japan and the events which follow, Young Kano or Kano Ekichi[40] was taken gradually out of his mother’s hands and given to a faithful attendant of his father to be educated as a true samurai should be. Japanese boys are not baptized for there are few Japanese Christians, and in those days there were none; they have, therefore, no baptismal name. They have, however, given names, which are placed behind the family name instead of before it as we do. They would say, for instance, instead of Henry Jones, Jones Henry; they do the same with the words Mister, Master, Mistress or Miss, for all of which they have only one expression: San. If we should speak to master Ekichi Kano, we should say Kano Ekichi San. These given names can be changed without any difficulty. Sometimes the parents change them, at other times the owner of the name changes it himself, and again the Emperor or Tenshi Sama gives an officer a new name. But in that case, it is sure that the owner will keep it so long as he lives.

I can’t say that Ekichi had a very pleasant time of it, although, of course, his father and mother loved him. Only they did not show it, as our parents do. As a little baby he was made to rest upon his knees, so that they might grow flexible, for the Japanese do not sit upon chairs, but squat upon their mats. When he rose in the morning from his futon[41] or comforter which served him as a bed, there was no running to his father or mother, shouting good morning, and giving them a hug or a hearty kiss. When he did meet them, the first thing was to fall on his knees, spread his hands flat before him, and bow until his head rested upon the back of his hands. His father and mother gravely returned the salutation in the same manner. When he took his meals, he was not permitted to say a word. He ate what was put before him, and it was every day the same. Asa meshi, hiru meshi, and ban meshi, or in English, morning rice, noon rice, and evening rice, there was no difference between breakfast, dinner, and supper. Until he was six years old, Ekichi spent most of his time with his attendant in the garden. They strolled around, and he asked questions which the man answered as well as he could. He was taught how to speak to a superior, to an equal, and to an inferior; how long he must remain prostrate before a daimiyo, before a councillor, and before a simple samurai. He was also taken to the grave of his grandfather, and told to kneel down and say his prayers. That was something he could not understand, and which his attendant could not explain; when he asked him, and he did often, the man would say: “It is so, but you should not ask why, because the gods only know.” So, when Ekichi was tired and sat down on the sward, he would often think: What is the use of praying at the grave of a dead man. But he was careful not to express his thoughts to anybody.

He was trained not to show pain, distress, or grief. Whatever happened to him, his face must not betray it. Being constantly in the open air, he grew up healthy and strong, and when he was six years old, he was taken to a school for samurai boys.

Ekichi had been with his attendant beyond the gates of his yashiki, but after the first day, he was told to go and return by himself. He met his schoolfellows with the courtesy which he had been taught so carefully, and was treated by them in the same way. There was no playground. Indeed, I do not believe that any of those boys knew what the word “play” means. Many times, thirty years ago, I have seen samurai boys from eight to sixteen years old, during recess or after schooltime retire to their rooms to smoke their tiny pipes and carry on a quiet conversation; but I never saw them play. The government of Japan has found out that baseball, football, and cricket, are healthy games, and is encouraging these boys to indulge in them. But at that time, a samurai lad would have felt hurt at the thought that he could do such a thing as play.

All Japanese boys are very quiet; they are brought up that way; but for the children of the people certain holidays are set apart. The fifth of May, or the fifth day of the fifth month is the boys’ festival. It is really a day devoted to Hachiman, the god of war, but it is also called the Feast of Flags. A tall bamboo is erected near every house where a boy was born; for every son a fish, properly shaped and a very good imitation made of air-tight sacks is fastened, with its mouth wide open by means of bamboo hoops. The air enters and, besides inflating the body, causes it to squirm, flap, and dart, about the bamboo. They have other days, but the samurai boys do not observe them. There is still a wide distance between them and the children of the people.

At the time when Ekichi Kano went to school, the children squatted upon the mats, and learned the Japanese syllabary,--for there is no alphabet in Japan,--each vowel is connected with a consonant, and thus forms a syllable. The vowels are the same as with us:

a, i, u, e, o, pron. ah, ee, oo, ay, oh, and combined with the consonants ka, ki, ku, ke, ko, na, ni, nu, ne, no, etc.

Ekichi, like almost all Japanese boys of his class, learned very quickly, nor did the very difficult Chinese characters frighten him. Long before a Chinese boy could have mastered one-half of them, Ekichi could read and understand a book without much difficulty.

He was now growing used to the restraint which was imposed upon him. He began to understand that the word _pleasure_ can have no meaning for a Japanese boy, and then he was made to learn that a boy is better without comforts than with them, except when he is sick. He was taught that there can be and must be but one motive for every action, and that motive must be: duty. Ekichi was but a child, and small for his age; but no boy twice as old in America or Europe, could have shown an equal degree of self-control, and contempt of pain and death with this child.

Japan’s laws were cruel, at this time, and most offenses were punished with death. The criminal was made to kneel down, a flash of the sharp sword, a blow, and the head lay severed from the body. Young as he was, Ekichi was often taken to these executions, to accustom him to the sight of blood. His face was closely watched to see if he showed any emotion, and when he came home from these disagreeable sights, he found his rice of the color of blood, for it had been colored on purpose with the juice of salted plums. He was expected to eat heartily of this dish, and, like other samurai boys, did so without the nauseous feelings which our boys would experience under the circumstances. Sometimes, at midnight, he was roused from a sound slumber, and ordered to go to the execution ground, and bring a head. There was no refusal possible. Whatever he might think privately of such an errand, there was but one answer possible, a responsive hai! “yes,” and immediate obedience. Thus Ekichi, as all other Japanese boys of his class, was indifferent to heat or cold, and forgot that there was such a thing as “fear.” He was not quite twelve, when he was given two real swords, sharp, keen blades, made for use and not for show. He was taught that “the sword is the soul of the samurai,” or, in the words of the law as it then prevailed in Japan[42]: “The girded sword is the living soul of the samurai. In the case of a samurai forgetting his sword, act as is appointed: it may not be forgiven.”

The child never considered his swords as toys; to him they were objects of reverence; that little dirk, eight inches long, might at some time be used to end his own life. He learned how he should behave and act, if ever such a moment should come. There is an instance in Japanese history, when a samurai boy only seven years old, committed suicide that he might save his father. Such stories were told him constantly, and roused his enthusiasm. At no time, after he was twelve years old, would Ekichi have hesitated to take his own life, if he had thought it his duty.

At this age he divided his time between shooting with bow and arrow, riding, fencing and wrestling, and the study of Chinese. He learned to swim and to handle a boat, and as he grew stronger, all dainties and comforts were taken away. If, in winter, his hands became numb, he was told to rub them in snow or water to make them warm; but he was not allowed the use of a fire. The duty of implicit obedience had been planted in him. No Japanese boy would think of asking why? when ordered to do something. Last of all he became master of that exceeding courtesy, peculiar to Japanese gentlemen, and which we foreigners cannot appreciate.

VII

KANO’S JOURNEY TO YEDO

The 1st of July, 1859, had come and gone, and the barbarians had been admitted into the Country of the Gods. They were only a handful; so few that Choshiu’s samurai could have pushed them into the bay by sheer force of numbers. While the Japanese people continued to toil, and cared nothing if there were any barbarians in the country or not, the samurai were getting more and more angry. Still, there was much curiosity mixed with this anger. The barbarians were so few in number; how could the Tokugawa, able to call an army of 80,000 men under arms, be afraid of them.

That puzzled Choshiu’s councillors. They had not succeeded in their attempts to obtain books and a teacher at Nagasaki, and it had been decided that another effort should be made at Yokohama. This time the enterprise was thought so important, that it was determined to send one of the councillors, and the choice fell upon Kano. He accepted the commission.

When the councillors separated, Kano requested his friend Hattori to call that evening, as he wished to consult him. Hattori agreed to do so, and punctually to the time appeared at the Kano yashiki.

When the two friends were seated, Kano said, “I have been thinking how I shall go. At first I thought of asking a Go rojiu passport through our _honest_ friend Sawa, who will do anything we ask of him, as soon as he sees our gold. But I am afraid it will not do. The Go rojiu must, by this time, have grown suspicious at the excellent reports furnished by their metsuke, and I should certainly be shadowed as soon as they heard that one of Choshiu’s councillors was visiting the Kwantô.[43] With spies constantly at my heels, I could not do anything; therefore, nobody except you, must know of my absence. I must, of course, trust my household, but I know that I can do that, I have decided to fall suddenly ill and call for a physician who will tell me that it is a slow fever. So I shall not want him again, since he cannot cure me anyhow. You must call two or three times a week, and spread the report that I am neither better nor worse. If our fellow-councillors ask for me, tell them that I intend to start at an early day.”

“But how will you pass the barriers on the Tokaido and the Nakasendo[44]?”

“I shall probably go by sea from Hyogo. I know that this journey is one of danger, but I must not risk the clan. I have, therefore, written to My Lord that I am no longer one of his samurai, but a _rônin_.[45] You must keep this paper and deliver it to the Council only in case I am arrested.”

Hattori bowed in assent, took the paper and hid it within the folds of his kimono. He then asked: “Are you going alone?”

“No. I must take a trusty young fellow with me, if something should happen to me. First I thought of Ito, but he is in Tokyo, and may be watched. I have sent for his friend Inouye, who, I am sure, has his wits about him.”

“I hardly think that a man like Inouye, who is more given to studying than to tramping about, will like such an adventure,” said Hattori, smiling. “But if he consents, you could have no better man.”

“That is what I thought. He has, moreover, this advantage, that he can not be known to any Tokugawa officer, since he has never been at Yedo.”

“When will you leave?”

“The sooner the better, to-night, if I can induce my intended companion to leave his books so soon. Ah! here he is!”

A servant had announced the visitor by opening a sho ji, and permitting him to enter. The customary salutations passed, and Inouye was requested to join the two friends. Kano scanned him closely, and, evidently pleased with the result, said:

“Mr. Inouye, you can serve the clan; are you willing to do so, even though it involves considerable danger?”

“With all my heart,” replied Inouye simply.

“Thank you, in name of the clan. How long will it take you to get ready for a long journey?”

“I can go now.”

Both Kano and Hattori smiled with pleasure at the young man’s brief replies, and the former explained his scheme in all its bearings. When he had finished Inouye said:

“I thank you, Mr. Councillor, very much for having thought me worthy of this honor, and I shall try not to disappoint you. If you permit me, I shall now write a similar letter to My Lord Mori, and perhaps Mr. Hattori will do me the favor to keep it with that of your honor.”

Hattori bowed, and Kano, begging to be excused, withdrew while Inouye was writing his letter. Kano went directly to the room where his wife was. He entered, and, without forgetting to pay her due respects, he said:

“I am leaving on a long journey, but I want people to think that I am ill. I shall, therefore, lie down, and do you send for a physician. Before he comes, send for Mr. Fujii,[46] I shall tell him what to do in my absence.”

Kano’s instructions were followed. The physician went home very proud at having discovered at once the councillor’s sickness. He was sorry that he had been dismissed, but felt that Kano was right. All his medicines could not cure such a fever. And when he thought of the fee in his pocket, his heart almost leaped for joy. It was more than he had received in six months.

The following morning, long before sunrise and while everybody in the Yashiki was fast asleep, Mr. Fujii cautiously opened the little gate, and two samurai, with their faces half hidden in a cloth wrapped around their heads, stepped briskly out. They wore straw sandals, so that their footsteps were inaudible. Fujii bowed deeply, and received a parting bow in return, but not a word was spoken. After passing across the moat, they came to the great highway and turned eastward. When the sun rose they had covered ten miles, and decided to stop for breakfast at the first yadoya[47] they should see.

After six days’ traveling without meeting any adventure, although they had met several ruffian-looking rônin, they approached Hyogo. They had carefully discussed their plans and decided to take passage in some trading junk, bound for Yedo or Kanagawa. If they could not do so, they would hire a boat. Kano had been many times along this road, in charge of Mori’s procession, and knew Hyogo well. But as he knew that passports were demanded from every traveler stopping at an inn, they decided to pass the night at a village yadoya, and proceed to Hyogo on the following morning.

They found what they wanted two miles west of Hyogo. After securing their rooms, they had their bath, and ordered dinner. Presently they heard the shrill voice of the landlady scolding somebody roundly.

“You little lout” (hyakusho[48]), she shouted, “I sent you for fresh fish, and you come back to tell me that there was none. No fresh fish in Hyogo! Just think of it! And here are two honorable gentlemen, who have ordered their supper! You shall go right back, you blockhead, and bring me fish, fresh fish, do you hear?”

Kano was amused, but Inouye whispered to him, “Suppose we ask that little hyakusho to find out if there is any ship sailing for Yedo. Those little fellows who look so stupid, are often keen enough, if they know that there is some cash for them. Shall I see him?”

Kano nodded assent, and Inouye descended to the ground floor. The boy, a strong built lad of fifteen or sixteen, was receiving the last instructions, and Inouye strolled slowly on the road toward Hyogo. He had not gone a hundred yards, when he heard steps behind him, and turning round saw the boy coming at a great pace. As the boy was about to pass him, Inouye said:

“Wait a moment.”

The boy stopped and bowed. Inouye continued:

“You are going to Hyogo, are you not?”

The boy bowed again and muttered:--“I am, your honor.”

“Very well. My brother and myself are stopping at yonder hotel. We have had a long march and are tired, but we must go to Yedo as soon as we can. Can you find out if any ships are leaving, and if they take any passengers? You are a sharp boy, and can find out if you try. If you do your errand well, slip up-stairs so that the landlady does not see it, and I shall pay you well.”

The boy looked up when he heard himself called a sharp boy, and Inouye felt that he had struck the right chord. He returned to the yadoya, where he found Kano fast asleep. He, too, stretched himself out upon the soft mats, and closed his eyes.

They awoke at the shuffling of feet, and the noise of dishes being brought in. Both enjoyed their supper. It was dark and the rain doors had been closed; but they opened them to enjoy the soft sea breeze. Neither of them spoke, when a whisper came from under the balcony: “Sir, sir, I have brought him.”

Inouye recognized the boy’s voice. Quietly measuring the height, he took one of the comforters serving as bed, and fastening one end to the railing swung himself over, holding the other end in his hand. A man was standing near the boy, and Inouye asked who he was. The boy told him that he was a sendo. He had found a ship that would leave for Tokyo at dawn, and told her master that two gentlemen at his inn wished to take passage. This sailor had been ordered to show them the way, and to carry their baggage.

Kano and Inouye were highly pleased. They left enough money to pay their bill handsomely, and, after Kano had joined his friend, rewarded the boy. Preceded by the sendo, they made their way to Hyogo and reached the junk in safety. They secured sleeping accommodations, and when they awoke the following morning, and went on deck, they saw that they had left Hyogo far behind.

VIII

YOKOHAMA IN 1859