fleet approaching. Two days later the great war-ships of the barbarians
steamed up the bay. The seven vessels dropped anchor not far from
Yokos[)u]ka, and the captain of the flag-ship received visits from the
governor and his interpreters. Again the same exaggerated forms of
politeness were observed, and presents of many kinds, fruits, wines, and
confectionery, were exchanged. The Japanese suggested that Perry should
land and meet them at Kamakura or Uraga, but the commodore replied,
through his captain, that he should stay where he was until the Japanese
had decided what they would do. He gave them until February 21st to
decide about the treaty.
Boats were sent out from the fleet daily to make surveys of the bay, but
none of the crews were allowed to land. At length the Japanese stated
that they were ready to treat with the American officers, and Captain
Adams was sent to Uraga to inspect the place where the fleet was to
anchor, and the new building in which the treaty was to be signed. The
captain, with his aides, entered the hall of reception, and was met by
a daimio named Izawa. The daimio was fond of joking. After many polite
greetings Captain Adams handed the nobleman a note from Commodore Perry.
Izawa took out his great spectacles, but before he put them on he folded
up his large fan with a loud snap. The Americans, alarmed at the noise,
clapped their hands to their revolvers. Izawa could not help laughing at
their confusion, but quickly adjusted his spectacles, and after reading
the note, said that he was much gratified at the commodore's greeting.
Rice and tea, cake and oranges were served the guests. A long argument
followed. Captain Adams said that the building was large enough for
simple talking, but not for the display of presents; and that Commodore
Perry would much rather go to the city of Yedo. The Japanese answered
that they much preferred that the meeting should take place at Uraga or
Kanagawa. The debate, carried on through Chinese interpreters, was a
lengthy one.
Two days later the commodore moved his fleet ten miles farther up the
bay. From here his crews could see the great temple-roofs, castles, and
pagodas of Yedo itself, and could hear the bells in the city towers.
This advance of the fleet convinced the Shogun that Perry meant to go to
Yedo. Some of his court had thought that it would be a national disgrace
if the barbarians were permitted to enter that city, but the government
now decided to yield the point, and suggested a place directly opposite,
at Yokohama, for the place of treaty.
No such scene had ever been witnessed in the hermit land of Japan as
the one that took place there on the morning of March 8, 1854. The bay
of Yedo was covered with great state barges and junks with many-colored
sails. On shore were hundreds of soldiers, the servants of the great
daimios, dressed in the gorgeous costumes of earlier centuries. Held
back by ropes were thousands of country people who had gathered from all
over that part of Japan to see the strange men from the West. Everywhere
was color. Tents, banners, houses, and the costumes of men, women and
children blazed with it. The American sailors in all their voyages in
the East had never seen such a brilliant picture.
Perry was not to be outdone. His men left the ships to the noise of
cannon that echoed and re-echoed along the shore. Twenty-seven boats
brought five hundred men, and as soon as they landed the marines formed
a hollow square, while three bands played martial music. The great
commodore, now looked upon by the Japanese with awe, embarked from the
_Powhatan_ in his white gig; more guns were fired; more flags waved; and
with great pomp, Perry landed on the beach. His object was to impress
the hermit people with the dignity of his nation.
A number of meetings followed before the treaty was completed. The
Americans insisted that vessels in need of wood, coal, water, or
provisions should be allowed to get them from shore, and that the
Japanese should care for shipwrecked sailors. They also wanted the two
ports, Shimoda and Hakodate, opened to them. The Japanese were willing,
provided they would not travel inland farther than they could return the
same day, and that no American women should be brought into the country.
But when the Japanese objected to the arrival of women, Commodore Perry
threw back his cloak and exclaimed, "Great heavens, if I were to permit
any such stipulation as that in the treaty, when I got home the women
would pull out all the hairs of my head!" The Japanese were surprised at
Perry's excitement, thinking that they must have offended him greatly.
When the interpreters explained what he had actually said, however, both
sides laughed and continued peacefully. They grew more and more friendly
as the meetings progressed. They dined together and exchanged gifts.
The Americans liked the sugared fruits, candied nuts, crabs, prawns,
and fish that the Japanese served in different forms, while the hermit
people developed a great fondness for the puddings and champagne the
Americans offered them. When it came to gifts, the eyes of the Japanese
opened wide at the many surprising things the barbarians had invented.
They were delighted with the rifles, the clocks, the stoves, the
sewing-machines, the model of a steam locomotive, and the agricultural
tools, scales, maps, and charts that Perry had brought to the Mikado.
These presents were to open the minds of the Japanese to the march of
progress in the rest of the world; and to teach them the uses of steam
and electricity, the printing-press, newspapers, and all the other
inventions that were products of Europe and America.
In exchange, the art-loving people of Japan gave their visitors
beautiful works in bronze, lacquer, porcelain, bamboo, ivory, silk, and
paper, and great swords, spears and shields, wonderfully inlaid and
decorated, that were handed down from their feudal days.
While the fleet stayed Japanese spy-boats kept watch in the bay, to see
that their young men did not board the foreign ships in their desire to
see something of the world. Time and again the young Yoshida Shoin and
a friend tried to break through the blockade, but every time they were
sent back to shore. At last the two left Yedo for the port of Shimoda.
The Americans set up telegraph poles, and laid rails to show the working
of the model locomotive. They gave an exhibition of the steam-engine.
This caused great excitement in the country near Yedo, and every one who
could went to see the strange performance. Already there was a struggle
between those who were eager to learn the inventions of the Americans,
and those who were afraid that the new ideas would spoil old Japan. Many
an ambitious youth stared at the Mikado's presents, and tried to learn
more of their secrets from the sailors on their way to or from the fleet.
The treaty was signed on March 31, 1854, and agreed that shipwrecked
sailors should be cared for, provisions needed by ships should be
obtained in the ports, and American vessels allowed to anchor in the two
harbors of Shimoda and Hakodate. Actual trade was not yet allowed, nor
were Americans to be permitted to reside in Japan. The hermit nation was
not at all eager to enter into competition with other countries, nor to
allow foreigners to trade with her. Commodore Perry knew, however, that
even the slight terms he had gained would prove the beginning of the
opening up of Japan to the rest of the world.
April 18, 1854, Perry left the bay of Yedo for Shimoda, and there the
fleet stayed until early in May. While the squadron was there two
Americans, who were botanizing on land, met the youth Yoshida Shoin
and his friend. The young Japanese gave the Americans a letter, but
seeing some native officers approaching, he and his friend stole away.
A few nights later the watch on the war-ship _Mississippi_ heard voices
calling, "Americans, Americans!" They found the two Japanese youths in
a small boat, and took them on board. Paper and writing materials were
found hidden in their clothes, and they explained that they wanted to
go with the fleet to America, and write down what they saw there. The
commodore, however, felt that he was in honor bound to send the two
young men back to their homes; and did so. Yoshida later came to be
one of the leaders of the new Japan that ended the long line of Shogun
rulers, and made the Mikado the actual emperor.
The fleet cruised from one port to another, now well received by the
people, who had forgotten their fear of the barbarians' fire-vessels.
The governors of the different provinces gave presents to Perry,
among them blocks of native stone to be used in building the great
obelisk that was rising on the banks of the Potomac River in memory of
Washington. On July 17th the last of the squadron left Napa for Hong
Kong.
The Americans had shown the Japanese that they were a friendly people,
with no desire to harm them. A race that had lived shut off from the
rest of the world for so many centuries was naturally timid and fearful
of strange people. From time to time European ships had landed in Japan,
and almost every time the sailors had done injury to the natives. Perry,
however, convinced them that the United States was a friend, and the
treaty, slight though its terms were, marked the dawn of a new era in
Japan. Like the sleeping princess, she woke at the touch of a stranger
from overseas.
X
THE PIG THAT ALMOST CAUSED A WAR
Off the far northwestern corner of the United States lie a number of
small islands scattered along the strait that separates the state of
Washington from Vancouver Island. One of these goes by the name of San
Juan Island, a green bit of land some fifteen miles long and seven wide.
The northern end rises into hills, while the southern part is covered
with rich pastures. In the hills are coal and limestone, and along the
shore is splendid cod, halibut, and salmon fishing. In the year 1859 a
farmer named Hubbs pastured his sheep at the southern end of San Juan,
and had for a neighbor to the north a man in the employ of the English
Hudson's Bay Company, whose business it was to raise pigs. The pigs
throve on San Juan, and following their fondness for adventure left
Mr. Griffiths' farm and overran the whole island. Day after day Hubbs
would find the pigs grubbing in his pasture, and finally in a moment
of anger he warned his neighbor that he would kill the next pig that
came on his land. Griffiths heard the warning, but evidently the pigs
did not, for the very next day one of them crossed the boundary line
and ventured into Mr. Hubbs' field. Here it began to enjoy itself in
a small vegetable patch that Mr. Hubbs had planted. As soon as he saw
the trespasser Hubbs went for his gun, and returning with it, shot the
intruding pig.
When Griffiths found his dead pig he was as angry as Hubbs had been,
and he immediately set out in his sailboat and crossed the strait to
Victoria, a little city on Vancouver Island, where officers of the
British Government had their headquarters. He stated his case, and
obtained a warrant of arrest for his neighbor Hubbs. Then he sailed back
to San Juan with the constable, and going to his neighbor's house read
the warrant to him. Hubbs indignantly replied that he was an American
citizen, and did not have to obey the order of the English officer.
Thereupon the constable left the house, vowing that he would return with
a force of men and compel the farmer to obey him.
Mr. Hubbs was a shrewd man, and believed that the constable would be
as good as his word. As soon as he had left Hubbs therefore sent a
note to Port Townsend, which was in Washington Territory, asking the
United States officers there to protect him from arrest for killing his
neighbor's pig. When he received the note General William S. Harney, who
was in command, ordered Lieutenant-Colonel Casey to take a company of
soldiers and camp on San Juan Island to protect Mr. Hubbs.
Now that thoughtless pig had actually lighted a fuse that threatened
to lead to a very serious explosion. As it happened San Juan lay near
the middle of the Strait of Juan de Fuca and commanded both shores. The
people at Victoria could see the American soldiers setting out in their
boats from Port Townsend, and landing on the green island. So long as it
had been the home of a few farmers San Juan had caused little concern,
but now that troops were camping upon it it presented quite a different
look. Victoria was all excitement. The governor, Sir James Douglas,
heard the news first, and then Admiral Prevost, who was in command
of some English war-ships anchored in the little bay near the city.
The admiral was very angry and threatened to blow the Yankees off the
island. He gave orders to move his fleet to one of the harbors of San
Juan, and his cannon were ready to fire shot over the peaceful fields,
where sheep and pigs had divided possession. Sir James Douglas, the
governor, however, was a more peaceful man. He persuaded the admiral not
to be in a hurry, but suggested that it would be wise to have a company
of British regulars camp somewhere on San Juan. This would serve as a
warning to the United States troops. Accordingly Captain Delacombe was
sent over, and pitched his tents on the northern end of the island that
belonged to the Hudson's Bay Company.
As a result of the pig having trespassed in Mr. Hubbs' vegetable patch,
the flag of the United States flew above the tents on the southern part
of San Juan, and the British flag over the tents on the northern end.
Mr. Hubbs was left in peace, and Mr. Griffiths went on raising pigs; but
the people in Victoria shook their fists across the strait at the people
in Port Townsend, and in each of those cities there was a great deal of
talk about war. The talk was mostly done by men who had nothing to do
with the army. The soldiers on the little island soon became the best of
friends, and spent their time in field sports and giving dinner-parties
to each other.
No part of the boundary line of the United States has given more trouble
than that in the northwest. The Hudson's Bay Company had once claimed
practically all of what was known as Oregon Territory for England, but
after Marcus Whitman brought his pioneers westward the Hudson's Bay
Company gradually withdrew, and left the southern part of that land to
the United States. For forty years the two countries had disputed about
the line of division, and the political party that was led by Stephen
A. Douglas had taken as its watchword, "Fifty-four, forty,--or fight!"
which meant that unless the United States should get all the land up
to the southern line of Alaska, they would go to war with England.
Fortunately President Polk was not so grasping, and the boundary was
finally settled in 1846 on latitude forty-nine degrees. That was a clear
enough boundary for most of the northwest country, but when one came
close to the Pacific the coast grew ragged, and was dotted with little
islands. Vancouver was by the treaty to belong to England, and the
agreement said that the boundary at this corner should be "the middle
of the channel." Now it happened that San Juan and its small neighbors
lay midway between the two shores, and the treaty failed to say which
channel was meant, the one on the American or the one on the British
side of San Juan.
As a matter of fact this question of the channel was very important
for the British. It would lead them to the coast of Canada, or the
United States to Alaska. The one to the west, called the Canal de Haro,
was much straighter than the other, and deep enough for the largest
war-ships. Naturally the United States wanted the boundary to run
through this channel, and the British equally naturally wanted the
boundary to run through the opposite channel, called Rosario Strait,
because midway between lay the little island, which would make a
splendid fortress, and might prevent the passage of ships in case of
war between the two nations. So long as the islands were simply pasture
lands the question of ownership was only a matter for debate, but when
the pig was killed, and the troops of both countries camped on San Juan
the question became a much more vital one.
News of what had happened on San Juan was sent to Washington and to
London; and General Winfield Scott hurried by way of Panama to Mr.
Hubbs' farm. He found that all the United States troops on that part
of the coast that could be spared had been crowded on to the southern
part of the island. This seemed unnecessary, and General Scott agreed
with Sir James Douglas that only one company of United States and one
of British soldiers should stay in camp there. The little island thus
became the scene of what was known as "a joint military occupation." In
the meantime there were many lengthy meetings at Washington and London,
and the two countries decided that they would leave the difficult
question of the boundary line to arbitration. So the statesmen at
Washington drew up papers to prove that the right line lay in the middle
of the Canal de Haro, and statesmen at London drew up other papers to
show that the correct line was through the middle of Rosario Strait,
which would give them San Juan and allow their ships to sail in perfect
safety between the islands and the Vancouver shore. The statesmen and
lawyers took their time about this, while the soldiers amused themselves
fishing for cod and salmon, and the farmers cared for their sheep and
pigs as peacefully as in the days before Hubbs had shot Griffiths' pig.
After some time the two nations decided to ask the Emperor of Germany to
decide the question of the boundary line. The Emperor appointed three
learned men to determine the question for him. They listened to the
arguments of both sides, and after much study made their report to the
Emperor, who gave his decision on October 23, 1872, and handed a copy
of it to Mr. Bancroft for the United States, and to Lord Odo Russell
for England. His decision was that the claim of the United States was
correct, and that the middle of the Canal de Haro should be the boundary
of that northwestern corner. This gave San Juan to the United States,
much to the disappointment of the people of Vancouver Island, who knew
that a fort on that little strip of land could control all navigation
through the Strait of Juan de Fuca. One month after the decision was
given the British troops cut down their flagstaff on the northern end
and left San Juan.
San Juan lies opposite the city of Victoria, which has grown to be
one of the largest ports of British Columbia. Instead of lessening in
importance the island has grown in value, because that part of the
country has filled up rapidly, and both sides of the line are more and
more prosperous. The question of who should own San Juan would have been
decided some day, but it was that prowling pig that brought matters to
a head, and for a few weeks at least threatened to draw two countries
into war. On such slight happenings (although in this case it was a very
serious matter for the pig) often hang the fates of nations if we trace
history back to the spark that fired the fuse.
XI
JOHN BROWN AT HARPER'S FERRY
In the days when Kansas was the battle-ground between those men who
upheld negro slavery, and those who attacked it, a man named John Brown
went from the east to that territory. Several of his sons had already
gone into Kansas, and had sent him glowing accounts of it. Many New
England families were moving west by 1855, and building homes for
themselves on the splendid rolling prairies across the Mississippi. John
Brown, however, went with another purpose. The years had built up in
him such a hatred for negro slavery that it filled his whole thoughts.
Kansas was the field where slave-owners and abolitionists, or those
who opposed slavery, were to fight for the balance of power. Therefore
he went to Kansas and made his home in the lowlands along the eastern
border, near a region that the Indians had named the Swamp of the Swan.
There were a great many men in Kansas at that time who had no real
convictions in regard to slavery, and to whom the question was one of
politics, and not of religion, as it was to John Brown. Those were days
of warfare on the border, and men from the south and the north were
constantly clashing, fighting for the upper hand in the government,
and taking every possible advantage of each other. Five of John Brown's
sons had already settled in Kansas when he came there with a sick son
and a son-in-law. Early in October, 1855, they reached the home of the
pioneers. They found the houses very primitive, small log shanties, the
walls plastered with mud. The father joined his boys in getting in their
hay, and set traps in the woods to secure game for food. But trouble was
brewing in the town of Lawrence, which was the leading city of Kansas.
Word come to the Swamp of the Swan that men who favored slavery were
marching on the town, intending to drive out the free-state Northerners
there. This was a direct call to John Brown to take the field. His
family set to work preparing corn bread and meat, blankets and cooking
utensils, running bullets, and loading guns. Then five of the men set
out for Lawrence, which was reached at the end of a twenty-four hours'
march.
The town of Lawrence, a collection of many rude log houses, was filled
with crowds of excited men and women. John Brown, looking like a
patriarch with his long hair and beard, arrived at sundown, accompanied
by his stalwart sons armed with guns and pistols. He was at once put
in charge of a company, and set to work fortifying the town with
earthworks, and preparing for a battle. In a day or two, however, an
agreement was reached between the free-state and the slave-state
parties, and immediate danger of warfare disappeared. Satisfied with
this outcome, Brown and his sons took to the road again, and marched
back to their home. There they stayed during the next winter. In the
cold of the long ice-bound months, the passions of men lay dormant. But
with the coming of spring the old feud smouldered afresh.
Bands of armed men from the South arrived in Kansas, and one from
Georgia came to camp near the Brown settlement on the Swamp of the Swan.
On a May morning John Brown and four of his sons walked over to the new
camp to learn the Georgians' plans. He had some surveying instruments
with him, and the newcomers took him for a government surveyor and
therefore a slave man, for almost every official that was sent into
Kansas held the Southern views. Pretending to be a surveyor, the father
directed his sons to busy themselves in making a section line through
the camp. The men from Georgia looked on, talking freely. Presently one
of them said: "We've come here to stay. We won't make no war on them
as minds their own business; but all the Abolitionists, such as them
Browns over there, we're going to whip, drive out, or kill,--any way to
get shut of them!" The strangers went on to name other settlers they
meant to drive out, not suspecting who their listeners were, and John
Brown wrote every word down in his surveyor's book. A few days later the
Georgians moved their camp nearer to the Brown settlement, and began
to steal horses and cattle belonging to the free-state men. Brown took
his list, and went to see the men whose names were on it. They held a
meeting, and decided that it was time to teach the "border ruffians,"
as such men as the Georgians were called, a lesson. News of the meeting
spread rapidly, and soon it was generally known that the free-state men
about Osawatomie, which was the name of the town near which the Browns
lived, were prepared to take the war-path.