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.
[Illustration: “IT IS REALLY A DAY DEVOTED TO HACHIMAN, THE GOD OF
WAR.”]
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
The junk had a fair voyage. The passengers who had not been on the
ocean before, had suffered from seasickness, but, since the junk
generally followed the coast, and often passed through smooth water,
they had quickly recovered. The voyage up Yedo Bay had been very
pleasant. But they met the tide when they were off Kanagawa, and as
there was but little wind, the master had anchored.
If they had known it, they would have looked behind them with some
interest, for there was the spot where Commodore Perry had anchored,
and with his fire ships, had battered down the door of Japan’s
isolation. That was five years ago. These five years had brought
serious trouble upon their country, and there promised to be graver
disturbances; for, as there was restlessness in their clan, so there
was restlessness everywhere.
As Kano stood thinking thus, he heard Inouye ask the master of the junk
how long it would be before they reached Yedo. The answer was that they
must wait six hours before the tide turned, and that then it would take
many hours unless the breeze freshened. “But,” he continued, “if your
honor is in a hurry, I can call a sampan (row boat) and you may be set
ashore at Kanagawa. Then you can follow the Tokaido, and reach Yedo
to-night.”
Kano turned toward the master, and said briefly: “Do so!” A little
while after a sampan passed within hailing distance, and soon the two
rônin were speeding toward the shore.
Kano and his friend made their way to a quiet yadoya at Noge hill,
where they could be sure not to be disturbed by the trains of daimiyo
passing to and from the capital, and would be free from impertinent
questions. After they had secured accommodations and refreshed
themselves with a bath, they took their dinner. Neither spoke of the
subject uppermost in his mind, their future plan of action. They were
now in the Tokugawa country, and every man might be a spy. Besides,
there was no privacy in a house where the walls consisted of sho ji,
and even a whisper could be plainly heard in the next room. Therefore,
when they had finished their dinner, Kano proposed a stroll. They
set forth, and walked in the direction of Yedo. They were sure to
be unobserved, since the Tokaido was crowded with travelers of all
classes, and samurai were not likely to be questioned after they had
passed the barrier.
When they had reached a part of the road where they could talk without
danger of being overheard, Kano said:
“We have arrived at the first stage of our journey. Have you thought of
any plan to attain our end?”
“I have been thinking, of course,” replied Inouye, “but I have no
doubt that you have conceived an excellent scheme.”