For several days I lived in strict seclusion. A semi-detached wing of
the palace, surrounded by one of the most beautiful of the landscape
gardens within the _yashiki_, had been set apart for my use. All my
wants were attended to by a faultlessly polite corps of retainers and
servants.
Fujimaro the chamberlain acted as my major-domo and incidentally as
my instructor in language and etiquette. Much as I had derived both
consciously and unconsciously from my intimacy with Yoritomo, I soon
found that I had made no more than a fair beginning in the intricacies
and niceties of one of the most difficult of languages and of the most
complicated of all existing codes of etiquette, that of China not
excepted.
My teacher proved to be invariably cordial and interested, but no
less invariably formal and precise in his demeanor towards the _tojin
daimio_. The Prince, who came to walk with me in the garden each day,
was still more formal whenever any of his retainers were present.
At other times, as when I showed him a little pistol practice in
the seclusion of a rockery, he unbent to me as to a peer, always
faultlessly polite and dignified yet flatteringly attentive to my
conversation.
During this time I saw nothing of his wife, the quaintly beautiful
little lady Tokiwa Sama. The family life of the Japanese nobility is
extremely private, even as regards relatives. Yoritomo found time to
pay me only one brief visit. He was dressed in white, the Japanese
mourning, and was greatly worn by his labor in preparing his memorial
to the Shogun during the nights and his daytime duties as chief mourner
for his brother.
Japanese etiquette does not permit the official mourning of parents
for children. Upon Yoritomo had fallen the sorrowful task of receiving
the family friends at the bier of his brother and of attending to all
the Buddhistic and Shinto funeral rites. The day after our arrival the
death of his brother had been officially announced, and the corpse,
which had been embalmed in vermilion for a month past, was mourned over
for the prescribed number of days before the interment in one of the
cemeteries at Shiba.
In the meantime my friend had completed a summary of the knowledge he
had acquired regarding the outer world, and the new foreign policy to
which that knowledge pointed. He was now writing the full report and
memorial, while his father, who had already smuggled the summary into
the Castle, was intriguing for permission to present the memorial
direct to the Shogun, unknown to Midzuano and the other members of the
Council of Elders.
As the Council was secretly pledged to the Mito faction, it was
necessary for us to obtain an unprejudiced hearing from the Shogun.
Delay was dangerous, since at any moment Keiki might invoke the ancient
laws against us, or the inopportune arrival of the American expedition
might checkmate our purpose by throwing the Government into an
irrevocably hostile attitude towards the foreigners and ourselves.
Weary of inaction, I welcomed a message from the Prince requesting me
to join him on an informal visit. Where we were to go was not stated,
but I accepted the invitation on the instant, and asked no questions.
My attendants dressed me with utmost care, in rich though sober-colored
garments, and I noticed that a ceremonial winged jacket, or
_kamishimo_, of hemp-cloth was laid in a lacquered case to be carried
along.
When, shortly after midday, I was led through the palace to the state
portico, I found that the Prince had already entered his _norimon_, and
was being borne away in the midst of his slow-moving cortege. I stepped
into my _norimon_ and was borne after him, Fujimaro and other officials
walking beside me. My led-horse and grooms, my two-sword men, and the
bearers of my state umbrella, hat, fan, and all the other ceremonial
paraphernalia of a _daimio_, were strung out before or behind me.
Upon issuing from the _yashiki_, we did not cross the outer moat at the
nearest bridge, but skirted southward along it to the Yotsuya Gate,
which opens into the great Kojimachi Street. Up Kojimachi we swung at a
pace far brisker than dignity would have permitted had not the absence
of ceremonial standards indicated that we were travelling _naibun_.
The incognito of the Prince, however, was no more than a conventional
fiction, since his cortege was immediately recognized by every man in
the throngs of _samurais_ that passed us within the official quarter.
Gazing out through my curtains, I caught the politely veiled glances
with which the two-sword men regarded our cortege. The intensity
of party feeling among them was evident from the total absence of
indifference. There was not one who failed to show indications of
either warm friendship or bitter hatred. This was no less true of the
helmetted riders we met. Some rode by with the heads of their barbed
and grotesquely caparisoned horses curved high and the huge slipper
stirrups of the high-peaked saddles thrust out aggressively. Others
courteously swerved to the far side of the street, and a few even
dismounted, despite our conventional incognito.
A mile along the Kojimachi Street brought us to the moat of the
citadel. I expected our cortege to turn to the right into the great
causeway and skirt the moat towards the Sakaruda Gate where Yoritomo
and I had parted from the cortege of the Princess Azai. Instead, our
escort led straight on across the bridge that headed the street. The
thought flashed upon me that we were about to enter the Shogun’s sacred
enclosure and call upon one of the high officials of the Household.
On either side I looked down over the waters of the beautiful moat,
among whose blue-green lotus pads swarmed ducks and geese, swans,
ibises, storks, and cranes. The outer bank rose to the causeway in a
steep grassy slope, set with wide-spreading oaks and pines. Nearing the
far side, I studied at close view the granite blocks of the citadel
wall, many of which measured at least four feet by sixteen. They were
neatly fitted together without mortar or iron cramps, and showed no
crevices or displacements from the earthquakes of three centuries.
At the head of the bridge our cortege halted, and Fujimaro informed
me that I was to alight. The Prince, as the head of one of the August
Three Families, was entitled to ride in through this lesser gate, but
no other _daimio_ could be accorded the privilege.
“Very well,” I replied, determined to make a test of the matter. “Let
the Prince of Owari proceed. I will wait his return here.”
“Impossible, my lord!” exclaimed the chamberlain.
“Then take me back to the _yashiki_,” I demanded. “The Prince was
pleased to receive me as a _daimio_ of rank equal to his own. I will
enter the citadel in the same manner that he enters, or not at all.”
This was a bold stand for a foreigner whose very presence in Japan was
against the ancient laws. But my natural disposition to insist upon a
correct valuation of my dignity was backed by a careful consideration
of Japanese manners and customs. As an American gentleman, I had the
right to rank myself as an equal to any one beneath the ruler of the
country. To accept a lower station would result in humiliations that I
was not disposed to suffer, either from white men or brown.
There followed a prolonged conference between the captain of the gate,
the chamberlain, and the Prince, during which Fujimaro twice came back
and begged me to change my determination. I refused. The gate captain
in turn refused to admit the unknown occupant of the second _norimon_
other than on foot. The deadlock that followed was broken by the
appearance of a _hatamoto_ whom I at once recognized as the only member
of the Princess’s guard, except the leader, that had survived the
attack of the _ronins_. His dress indicated that he had been promoted
to the rank of court chamberlain. He had come to conduct us into the
citadel, and at a word from him, the obstinate gate captain yielded his
will to mine.
We moved forward beneath the huge ancient gateway into a small court
between the lofty bastions, and out at right angles, through an inner
gateway, into the marvellously beautiful gardens of the Shogun. After
winding about for half a mile or more among hillocks and rockeries and
groves interspersed with kiosks and toy-like red-lacquered temples, we
came to the wall and moat that surrounds the O Shiro.
Here the Prince and I left our _norimons_, and walked over a slender
high-arched bridge, accompanied only by our chamberlains and the newly
made court chamberlain, who had ostentatiously ushered us from the
citadel gate. In compliance with the request of the Prince, I walked
behind him as if lost in meditation, my head downbent and eyes narrowed
to a line.
At the far side of the bridge we passed between the vigilant guards of
the inner gateway, who, however, seemed to detect nothing foreign in my
appearance. Beyond them we came into a garden court, surrounded with
high walls on three sides and on the fourth with a wing of the palace.
There was no person to be seen either in the court or in the broad
veranda of the palace wing, to which we were conducted. Mounting a set
of movable lacquered steps, we crossed the veranda to the threshold of
a small waiting room.
When our clogs had been removed, the Prince handed over not only his
sword but his dirk as well into the keeping of his chief attendant.
The act convinced me that we were about to be received by the Shogun
himself. It was absurd to suppose that one of so exalted a rank as the
Prince would lay aside his dirk as well as his sword for any personage
in Yedo other than the head of the Government. Fujimaro did not have to
ask twice for my swords. I handed them over at the first word.
We entered and seated ourselves. The court chamberlain kowtowed and
withdrew, and our attendants proceeded to slip on our winged jackets
and adjust our court caps. These were odd black-lacquered affairs, not
unlike inverted boats in shape, and were tied on the crown of our heads
with cords passing under our chins. Our chamberlains then handed us the
ceremonial fans, and withdrew to the lower end of the room.
After a short wait, the court official reappeared and bowed to the
Prince and myself. We rose and followed him through a deserted corridor
into a large square room, where he signed us to kneel on three mats
below the cushions in front of the _tokonoma_. He slipped out again by
the way he had entered, drawing shut the screen behind him.
There followed a wait of ten or fifteen minutes, during which I sought
to quiet my apprehensions as to the outcome of the audience with this
mysterious Oriental potentate, by studying the exquisite cabinetwork
and decorations of the room. I was admiring the priceless _cloisonné_
vase which shared the floor of the _tokonoma_ with a common water-worn
stone, when the Prince drew in his breath with a soft sibilation, and
kowtowed until his forehead pressed the floor.
A quick glance showed me a gap between the screens of the side wall,
through which was entering a portly, stern-faced, black-bearded man in
yellow _kimono_ and black _haori_. In his girdle were thrust a sword
and dirk that glittered with gold fretwork, but the bell-shaped cap, or
hat, on the crown of his head was of plain black lacquer. The salute of
the Prince was, however, quite sufficient to convince me that we were
in the presence of the Shogun. I kowtowed beside my companion.
We maintained our salute until the Shogun had seated himself on the
cushioned dais before the _tokonoma_ and commanded us to rise. As we
straightened and sat back on knees and heels, I was astonished to
perceive that we were alone with this exclusive and jealously guarded
ruler of the most exclusive and jealously guarded empire on earth. But
I had heard too much about the ways of Oriental potentates to doubt
that palace guards waited within instant call behind the frail barrier
of the wall screens.
“The petition of Yoritomo Sama for permission to present a memorial
through Owari dono has been received and read,” he began in a clear,
colorless voice. “The summary of the intended memorial of Yoritomo
Sama has been received but not read. The Legacy of Iyeyasu forbids the
reading of documents or letters that refer to _tojin_ countries.”
“The will of Minamoto Iyeyoshi is the delight of his servants!”
exclaimed the Prince, smiling as though he had received a favor. “May
inquiry be made whether the Tycoon has laid the matter before the Elder
Council?”
If the Shogun was flattered by the adulatory Chinese title, which
properly belonged only to the Mikado, there was nothing to indicate the
fact in his stern look. He replied curtly, “The Council has not yet
been consulted.”
Though so ungraciously stated, I divined that this answer implied a
point in our favor, and I smiled quite as suavely as the Prince. The
Shogun turned his gloomy eyes upon me in a fixed stare. As a matter of
courtesy I was willing to conform to the etiquette of the country, but
I was not inclined to cringe before any man. No thought of insolence or
bravado entered my mind. The rank of this Oriental ruler entitled him
to my respect. I met his look with the calm and steady gaze with which
a gentleman regards a new acquaintance.
The experiment was not lacking in danger. Deference is the breath of
life to the normal Oriental potentate. But the pride of race and family
is hard to overcome, even though expediency counsel a subservient
attitude. I could not have humbled myself had I desired.
The event proved that Minamoto Iyeyoshi was far other than a typical
tyrant. His dark eyes lighted and he expressed his opinion of me with
royal conciseness: “The American _tojin_ is brave.”
I bowed in acknowledgment. “Your Highness is pleased to be gracious!
Permit me to speak for one who is my friend,--a man who, for the sake
of his country, laid aside riches and rank, and, at the risk of life
and honor, crossed the seas to search out the secrets of _tojin_ power.
Your Highness, do the records of Nippon’s heroes tell of any nobler
deed of courage and devotion?”
“The Legacy of Iyeyasu may not be altered,” he replied.
“Your Highness,” I said, “since the days of your august ancestor
Iyeyasu Sama, Dai Nippon has stood still among the nations of the
earth while all the _tojin_ world has rolled forward. Even China stirs
from the sleep of cycles. The time has come for the people of Nippon
to learn that the _tojins_ are neither beasts nor demons nor even
barbarians. Your Highness, the son of the wise Prince of Owari honored
me with his friendship. For the sake of that friendship I have come
with him to Nippon to advise the altering of the laws of Iyeyasu.”
“A _tojin_ counsellor in the Shogunate!”
“Your Highness may recall one precedent,” I replied. “Iyeyasu Sama
listened to the counsel of Anjin Sama, my ancestor.”
The curiosity in the Shogun’s eyes deepened without a trace of change
in his impassive face. He glanced inquiringly at my companion, who
responded in a tone of calm conviction: “Anjin Sama, the favorite and
most trusted counsellor of our august ancestor, has returned in a new
birth to advise Minamoto Iyeyoshi regarding the _tojin_ peoples.”
“Does the _tojin_ himself make claim that he is a reincarnation of
Anjin?” demanded the Shogun.
“No claim is made by myself, Your Highness,” I answered. “I am not
conscious that my soul is the soul of Anjin. But I know that I am
lineally descended from Anjin through his English son, and Owari dono
honors me with an acknowledgment of kinship.”
The Prince bowed in confirmation.
Iyeyoshi’s face darkened. “Woroto is a believer in the accursed sect!”
“Your Highness is mistaken,” I replied. “The sect denounced by your
laws is that body of Christians which acknowledges the rule of the Pope
of Rome. There are many Christian sects which reject the Pope.”
“All Christian sects seek to subvert filial piety and the reverent
worship of the august ancestors, upon which rest the foundations of
morality and order.”
“Your Highness,” I ventured, “whatever may be the foundations of order
and morality, the life of nations depends either upon the power to
meet force with force or the wisdom to avoid conflict. For generations
Dai Nippon has been safe owing to her isolation from the lands beyond
the wide seas. But now the _tojin_ peoples have attained to a power
inconceivable to one who has not seen. Their warships cover the seas.”
“So also did the war junks of Kublai Khan,” he rejoined.
“The fleet of Kublai Khan was destroyed off the shores of Nippon by
the great storm no less than by the valor of Nippon’s _samurais_,” I
replied. “But the warships of the _tojins_ move without sails against
the greatest of typhoons, and their cannon shoot far. Your Highness may
have heard of Chinese arrogance. The _tojins_ said, ‘Trade with us.’
The Chinese spat at them and called them ‘foreign devils.’ The _tojins_
said, ‘Trade with us.’ They attacked the _tojins_. The _tojin_ warships
came to them in anger. Now they trade with the _tojins_ in many open
ports. The _tojin_ trade is a rising tide that is sweeping its way
around the world. Your Highness knows that the Government of my country
is sending a very great official honorably to request that the ports of
Dai Nippon be unblocked before the rising tide.”
“Earthquake waves have rolled up on our coasts, destroying thousands.
The waters have ever receded, and Dai Nippon still stands.”
“The tide of _tojin_ trade has never receded from wherever it has
flowed. _Tojin_ power is far beyond the knowledge of Your Highness.
Do not judge by the Dutch. They are now a very little people in the
_tojin_ world. In the august name of Minamoto Iyeyasu and in the name
of Anjin Sama, his counsellor, I ask Minamoto Iyeyoshi to receive and
ponder on the memorial of Yoritomo Sama.”
“The prayer of Woroto will be considered,” replied the Shogun, and with
this half concession, he touched a small gong that stood beside him on
an elbow rest.