A BOY OF OLD JAPAN.

A BOY of
OLD JAPAN

BY
R. VAN BERGEN

Author of
The Story of Japan, The Story of
China, Heroic Japan, etc., etc.

Illustrated with original
Japanese Color Pictures

BOSTON
LEE and SHEPARD
M C M I

Copyright 1901, by LEE & SHEPARD
All rights reserved
A Boy of Old Japan
Norwood Press
Berwick & Smith, Norwood, Mass.,
U. S. A.

TO
MY LITTLE SON
HENRY A. S. VAN BERGEN,
IN RECOLLECTION
OF OUR PLEASANT VISIT
TO CAMBRIDGE

PREFACE

I am under deep obligations to the publishers, for giving me an opportunity to tell the story of the rejuvenation of Japan. I was a witness, although at that time I did not comprehend the movement, but I, and those few who are still living, do now.

From a federation of mutually autonomous oligarchies, Japan was metamorphosed into an Empire which holds Russia at bay. From a nation occupying 150,000 square miles, it has expanded by the addition of Formosa, and its population has grown from thirty millions to forty-five millions. An oriental people adopted occidental progress, and within three decades or little more than one generation, digested and assimilated our progress.

I have known, and was personally known to the men, whose story I have endeavored to tell. They are now honored under the simple name of Genrô,—statesmen of Revolutionary Times. Of the brilliant array of patriots whose names appear in these pages, only Ito, Inouye, and OKuma remain!

I have kept the names. Why should I not? Only honor can be bestowed upon such patriots as they; and the world delights to honor them. Besides, there is a healthy spirit for the young in a true story of devotion, sacrifice, and self-restraint. How often does a child, when reading an interesting story, ask: “Papa, is this true?” In this case the father may conscientiously answer: It is.

All the characters as portrayed in these pages, were living actors in the great national drama. Of those whose names have never before appeared in print, Karassu Maru, the only impulsive noble I have ever known, was the first imperial governor of Yedo. He died in August, 1872, and I attended his funeral. Honami came to Yedo with the emperor, but he was soon sent back to Kyoto, where he was placed under guardianship.

I have enjoyed the retrospective communication with my old friends. If my readers do so, they owe the pleasure to the publishers, who suggested the composition of the book.

R. van Bergen.

Cambridge, Mass., Nov. 12, 1900.

Contents

Illustrations

A Boy of Old Japan

I
JAPAN ASLEEP

Japan had been asleep for more than two hundred years. About the time when the Pilgrim fathers landed in what is now known as the New England States, the man who ruled over Japan had made up his mind that he would have nothing more to do with the people of Europe, and he gave orders that no more foreigners should be admitted. He made one exception in favor of the people of Holland, but on condition that only a very small number of them should reside in Japan at a time; and they must be satisfied with the tiny island of Deshima[1] in the harbor of Nagasaki,[2] and promise that they would obey the governor of that city.

It was not many years before this time, when the Japanese had been glad to receive every European, but they had found out that the Portuguese and Spaniards wished to be masters of their country, and so their kindness had changed first into dislike and afterwards into hate. The Portuguese had taught many Japanese about our Lord, and a number of them had become Christians. But the Shogun[3] ordered that all Christians must be killed, and thousands of them were put to death. He gave also orders that all large ships must be destroyed, and that thereafter only small vessels could be built. Besides, he threatened to put to death any Japanese who should return to his country after having been abroad, even if he had been carried away against his will. No foreigner could come to Japan and no Japanese could leave his country. They could, therefore, learn nothing from other people. That is why I said that Japan had been asleep for more than two hundred years.

In all that long time there had been no change. Just as Japan was in 1621, so it was in 1853. The houses were still built in exactly the same way, the men and boys dressed exactly as their ancestors had done before, and so did the women and girls, and they lived in the same manner.

The people worked hard from early in the morning until late at night. The merchants, mechanics, and farmers, toiled from the beginning of the year to the end, without any Sundays or holidays, except on New Year’s day, and perhaps a few days later. They had nothing to say in the government, and belonged to the Lord on whose estate they were living. The whole of Japan was divided into about three hundred of such estates; some of them very large and others again very small. Over each of these estates was a daimiyo,[4] or lord, who was assisted by as many samurai,[5] or knights, as the estate could support. These knights were the civil officers of the estate while there was peace; but as soon as war broke out they were soldiers, always ready to go into battle, and to die for their lord.

The greatest of all the daimiyo was the Shogun[3], or Commander-in-chief, who resided in his large castle at Yedo.[6] It was he who made the laws for all the Japanese, and he had so many samurai that not even the greatest daimiyo dared disobey him. But, although he had as much power as any emperor, still he was not the real Emperor of Japan. Many, many years before there was any Shogun, the country had been governed by the ancestors of a man who was living quietly in Kyoto.[7] His house was shaped like a temple, and stood in the most beautiful grounds that can be imagined. When the people spoke of him, they whispered: Tenshi Sama,[8] for he was to them the Child of Heaven, the descendant, as they thought, of the gods who created Japan.

But Tenshi Sama, they believed, was too mighty and too great to care about such a small thing as governing the people. All he had to do was to pray to the gods to take care of Japan, and they would surely hear his prayers. Since the first Shogun ruled over Japan, there had been many wars and much bloodshed, because many daimiyo wanted larger estates than they possessed. All these wars ceased in the year 1600, when the Daimiyo of Tokugawa,[9] named Iyeyasu,[10] defeated his rivals at Sekigahara,[11] and caused the Tenshi Sama to make him Shogun.

“PEACE REIGNED OVER THE COUNTRY.”

Iyeyasu was such a brave general, and besides an able as well as a generous man, that the country began to enjoy peace. The great daimiyo tried once more to shake off his rule, but they could not do it. In 1615 the last battle was fought, and the daimiyo were defeated so badly that they gave in. Iyeyasu punished some of them very severely. He took a very large part of the estate of Lord Mori,[12] the Daimiyo of Choshiu,[13] and divided it among two of his sons. Mori henceforth was the enemy of Tokugawa, and so were all the great daimiyo who had suffered defeat. But Iyeyasu ordered them to build yashiki,[14] or mansions, in Yedo, and to live there half of the year. Iyemitsu,[15] the grandson of Iyeyasu and the third Tokugawa Shogun, commanded them to leave their wives and children at Yedo, where he held them in his power. He made laws for the people, the samurai, and the daimiyo, and, since he had an army of 80,000 samurai on his own estates, he was strong enough to make the daimiyo obey him.

Thus all war ceased in Japan and peace reigned over the country. The merchant plied his trade, the mechanic worked at his craft, and the peasant toiled in his field, as their fathers had done before them, and they brought up their sons to do as they had been taught. There was, therefore, no progress; and there was very little liberty.

The only people who really did have something to say, were the samurai or knights. They did not work, but were paid by the daimiyo whom they served. They were very proud of being gentlemen, and never failed to speak and act as they believed was right. Thus Japan continued until the year 1853. Then a number of “fire-ships,” their smoke stacks belching forth a dense smoke, steamed up Yedo Bay. The cliffs echoed the throbbing of the engines. In vain did the Shogun’s guard boats warn them to go back. They did not heed these commands any more than when the tide turned, and the current tried to stop their progress.[A] On, on they went toward the capital of the Shogun, until the shoaling water warned them to cast anchor. Their commander was notified that he must leave, but he replied that he carried a letter for the Shogun, and would not go before he had delivered it. The government at Yedo did not know what to do. The Japanese are very shrewd, and understood quite well that the samurai, armed with bow and arrow and in old fashioned lacquered armor, were no match for guns and cannon. The government was afraid to refuse to receive the letter, and a year later it signed a treaty, because it was afraid to enter upon war with these strangers. The officers of the government knew the strength of the foreigners, but the samurai of the other daimiyo did not; and when they heard that the Shogun had entered into a treaty, because he was afraid, they became angry and excited. From that time it was certain that the Tokugawa princes would be Shogun no longer. The anger of the samurai increased when a new treaty was made, in 1858, between the government of Japan and that of the United States through Mr. Townsend Harris. For the following ten years there was trouble in Japan, and the samurai began to think that Tenshi Sama should drive the foreigners into the ocean. That was easier said than done, but the samurai did succeed in taking the government away from the Tokugawa, and Tenshi Sama became emperor indeed, and he is so still.

Mutsuhito,[16] the Emperor of Japan, was only a boy of fifteen when he was taken out of his beautiful palace in 1867. He is now (1900) forty-eight years old, and has seen Japan grow from a poor little country into a great and strong empire. Our story begins in the year 1858, and will show how a Japanese samurai boy was brought up.

II
THE OLD YASHIKI

Great preparations for receiving guests were being made in the Kano Yashiki at Nagato. To-morrow would be the fifth day of the eleventh month of the fourth year of the oldest son and heir, and the boy would be invested with the hakama[17] of the samurai.

There would be a great gathering of the Choshiu clan, for the Kano family had been great in the council, and was trusted by daimiyo and samurai alike. The history of the Mori family was as much the history of that of Kano, at least ever since Kano Shimpei had tried to keep his lord from fighting Iyeyasu. The Mori of that time had refused to heed his knight’s advice, and sent him away in disgrace. But Kano would not desert his master. He had followed him to Osaka, and when the battle was lost, had saved his lord by continuing to fight until Mori was rescued by a small band of devoted samurai. Kano himself died covered with wounds. The Daimiyo of Choshiu had never forgotten the advice nor the heroic death of Kano Shimpei. They had honored his descendants, and every Kano had tried to show his great loyalty to his lord.

The Kano Yashiki stood within the outer moat of Choshiu’s castle. A massive gateway faced the street. On each side was a high, plastered wall covered with tiles. This wall surrounded the yashiki and its grounds, and gave it the shape of a perfect square. The doors of the gate were of heavy wood, plated with iron and studded with huge iron bolts. They swung inward on hinges, but were opened only for the daimiyo, if he should honor his samurai with a visit, or for a knight of equal rank of the owner. For all other callers there was a little gate by the side, where the guard could examine all that entered or left.

A short but broad road, composed of pulverized shells mixed with soft white sand, led from the gate to the samurai residence. It was a fine two story building, with verandahs running round the house. It was built upon posts about two feet high and resting upon stones so that, if an earthquake should happen, the building could move with the wave of the earth. The verandahs were made of kayaki[18] wood, and polished until it shone like a mirror. The building was really a large and strong shed, with thick posts upholding the roof with its heavy tiles. There were no walls. Paper sho ji,[19] or sliding doors, set loosely in grooves, took their place. They could be easily taken out, to allow fresh air. These grooves were so arranged that the whole floor could easily be changed into several apartments or rooms. The upper story had a balcony at the back, overlooking the spacious and beautifully kept gardens, with ponds, little hills, and copses of trees. At the end of the balcony as well as on the verandahs were closets, holding the ame,[20] or rain doors. These were slid into deep grooves along the outer edges of the verandahs and balcony at night or when a storm arose.

The owner of the house was sitting in one of the rooms at the back of the house. He was a man of about thirty, of middle size, but strongly built. His hibachi[21] stood before him, but he was evidently in deep thought. He did not expect any visitors, for he had taken off his hakama, and was sitting in his simple cotton kimono,[22] or gown.

Suddenly he clapped his hands three times. The sound of: hai, hai![23] came from a distance, and presently one of the sho ji was slid aside, and Mrs. Kano appeared dutifully on hands and knees. She could not be seen very well, as she bowed her head upon her hands, as a salute to her master and husband, but when he remained silent, she raised her head and asked softly:[24]

“Did you call?”

She could be seen now. Mrs. Kano was perhaps eighteen, certainly not more than nineteen years old. Her jet black hair was done up in a matronly coil and glistening with patchouli or oil from the cactus plant. Her forehead was fair, but eye-brows she had none, for a Japanese wife, before her marriage, was compelled to pull them out. Her teeth were of a shining jet, another custom of married ladies. But, disfigured as she was, her soft and gentle voice showed that Mrs. Kano had been taught the Onna Daigaku,[25] or the Greater Learning for Women, and that she was willing to try to please her husband.

When he heard his wife’s voice, Kano looked at her, bowed slightly, and said:

“Have all preparations been made for to-morrow’s reception?”

“Yes,” she replied, “all your orders have been obeyed.”

“Very well,” he said, and she withdrew.

Kano was thinking of his son. He remembered the death of his father, when he was only eighteen years old. How he had looked up to him! How gently, and yet how firmly had his father trained him in the manly exercises of the samurai, hardening his body to despise luxury and ready to bear cold or heat at any time. How he had taught him the family history, with its fine record of loyalty and self sacrifice, and how he had commanded him to follow in the same path. Kano felt that he had done so. He remembered the illness which had struck the strong man so suddenly and with fatal ending, and which caused the son such a deep pain. His father’s last words: “The wise man of China says that the greatest disrespect to a father is not to have any son,” had caused him to marry as soon as the time of mourning was over. And now he was a father himself, and the time had come that he must begin to train the child.

Had he done his duty, according to the laws and custom of the samurai? Why, certainly. On the seventy-fifth day after its birth, the child had left off its baby-linen. On the hundred and twentieth day it had been weaned. Every ceremony had been observed as it should be by a gentleman of Kano’s family. Kano’s own brother had fed the child, and My Lord’s cousin had acted as sponsor. He had taken the child on his left knee and as weaning father had taken of the sacred rice which had been offered to the gods. He had dipped his chop-sticks three times in it, and then placed them in the mouth of the child as if giving it some of the rice juice. He had followed the honored custom to feed the child three times from the five cakes made of rice meal. When the three cups of sake[26] were brought on the tray, the sponsor drank them and offered one to the child, now restored to his guardian. The boy pretended to drink two cups, and the sponsor had produced his present. Every ceremony had been observed, and the feast which followed had shown that Kano intended to follow in the footsteps of his fathers, in honoring the customs of Old Japan.

Again on the fifteenth day of the eleventh month, when the boy’s hair was allowed to grow, not a single ceremony was neglected; and to-morrow Kano would prove once more that he loved the customs of his father and was willing to abide by them.

Again a sho ji slid open, but this time it attracted Kano’s attention. A servant girl kneeling on the door sill was waiting until her master should speak.

“What is it?” he asked.

With a deep drawn breath, as if overwhelmed at the honor of being spoken to, she replied:

“Mr. Hattori[27] wishes to speak to your honor.”

Kano rose hastily and, opening a cupboard, seized his hakama and slipped it on over his kimono. Thus prepared to receive his old-time friend, he ordered the girl to admit him. A moment later, and the visitor entered with a shuffling gait, and, falling upon his knees, three times touched his head to the ground. Kano replied in the same manner, each in turn repeating the same ceremonious phrases, which custom demanded of men of their rank.

At last Hattori was seated upon the cushion which the servant had placed for him, and tea was brought in. When the servant had withdrawn, the two men smoked in silence, until Hattori knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and asked:

“Have you seen him?”

Kano raised his brows slightly, and answered:

“I do not understand you. Do you mean the sponsor? Certainly, I have seen him.”

“Ah! you are thinking of to-morrow! No, I do not mean the sponsor or any one connected with your family. Bah! I mean the new guest we must entertain, and who will offer you his congratulations.”

“A new guest!” exclaimed Kano. “Surely, I must be growing dull, for I fail to catch your meaning.”

“Well, then,” said Hattori, cautiously looking into the garden, “another metsuké[28] arrived this afternoon from Yedo, and was bold enough to come to the castle and demand to be admitted. I was ordered to receive him and find out what he wanted. When I came into the room where he was waiting, he introduced himself by handing me a letter from the Go rojiu,[29] to the clan. There were enough councillors present to open it, so I excused myself and called our friends. It was very brief and to the point. The Go rojiu desires to mention our clan as a model for Japan, and has therefore sent this fellow to report.”

“What is his name?”

“Sawa.”[30]

“Sawa, Sawa,” repeated Kano slowly. “I think I know the name. How old is he, do you think?”

“He must be forty at least, and he seems cut out for his work. His oily talk is disgusting; and while he flatters you, his eyes are restlessly peeping in every nook and corner.”

“What have you done with him?”

“The usual thing. We accepted the letter and told him that we would deliberate carefully about it, and let him have an answer in a couple of days. He bowed himself out and was carried in his norimono[31] to the hotel. But I hear he has sent his servants to find out if he can not rent a vacant yashiki. So, you see, he intends to remain some time, and send in a full report.”

Kano was silent. He was evidently displeased; suddenly his attention as well as that of his friend was drawn to a soft footstep on the gravel walk of the garden, and presently a young man appeared at the steps leading from the verandah to the path. He faced the room and bowed low. Both returned the salutation, but Kano muttered between his teeth: “Ito![32] What on earth brings him here?”

III
THE MESSENGER

The intruder, if he may be so called, mounted the steps and, entering the room, saluted in the usual manner. He was invited to approach, and, clapping his hands, Kano ordered the servant to bring in another cushion, and fresh tea. When these had been brought, and the visitor was seated, Kano said:

“When did you leave Yedo?”

“Just a week ago.”

“Is there anything new?”

“Why, I think so. It is said openly by Tokugawa men that the foreign devils, with whom the Go rojiu have made a treaty, will be permitted to settle down at Yokohama.”

“Settle down! What do you mean?” exclaimed Hattori.

“Where is Yokohama?” asked Kano.

Ito replied first to the question of his host.

“Yokohama is a little distance from the Tokaido,[33] near Kanagawa, the last post station at this side of Yedo.” Then, turning toward Hattori, he continued:—“Yes; the new treaty permits them to buy land and to build houses.”

“But,” said Hattori, aghast, “that means that Japan is invaded. These foreign devils have come with their fire ships and guns, and by threats have accomplished their purpose. What has become of the Tokugawa? Have they lost their manhood, to submit to such a disgrace!”

“Softly!” said Kano. “There may be reasons why the Go rojiu has permitted them to come so close to Yedo. It must be so. It must be a trap to destroy the intruders in such a manner that others like them will think twice before they come again.”

“I wish I could think so,” said Ito. “No! I believe that the Tokugawa are afraid of an invasion. Their samurai, with the exception of those of Mito and Aidzu,[34] are not worth their salt. Have you ever seen, during your residence in Yedo, a Tokugawa Knight practising at arms. They are quick enough to draw their swords upon a beggar or a merchant, but when they meet one of the samurai of the southern clans, they fly to cover. No! Since Ii Naosuke[35] is regent, he has looked closely into the forces which the Tokugawa can muster, if a war should break out, and he thinks that it must be avoided at any cost. Of course, he expects that the samurai of the great clans will be furious, and he has sent a large number of spies to report what is said. One of these gentry was sent here. I heard of it in time to follow him, and I came on to warn you.”

Both Kano and Hattori expressed their thanks, and Kano said:

“But if the Tokugawa are not able to prevent a handful of foreigners from landing, how can they expect that the great southern clans will obey them?”

“Oh!” replied Ito, smiling grimly; “we have been obedient for so many years, trembling when the Go rojiu frowned, that the regent believes it will continue forever. He had a meeting of all the daimiyo connected with his clan, and tried to convince them that we must now receive these foreigners, and try to learn all that they know. Then, when we can handle their fire ships and their cannon, we may expect to drive them into the sea.”

A JAPANESE FAMILY.

Hattori put his hand upon his dagger, but Kano, with a friendly motion of his hand, calmed him. “There may be something in that,” he said thoughtfully. “Mind you!” he continued, “I do not underrate Japanese courage, but we do not know the strength of these barbarians. We have been living like frogs in a well. It is easy enough to engage in war, but it is best to know the number of the enemy, before you engage in what may prove too heavy odds. Such a thing would be foolish. But we may come to a settlement with the Tokugawa. If indeed, their samurai have lost their courage, then my lord of Choshiu may recover the land from which he was robbed, and I may avenge my ancestor’s death. When will the councillors of the clan meet?”

“The day after to-morrow,” replied Hattori.

Kano clapped his hands, and ordered the servant to send up dinner for his guests and himself. Hattori and Ito made some excuses, but were easily induced to remain.

Small tables were brought in and placed before each man. First sake or wine made from rice, was served hot, and a small stone bottle placed near each person; then there was suimono, a sort of vegetable soup, after which rice was ladled out into cups or bowls. A number of side dishes, such as pickled daikon, a sort of giant radish, tsubo or stewed sea-weed, and soy, a sauce, were enjoyed by the samurai.

The conversation had been interrupted when the servants entered, and was not resumed. The men spoke of the ceremony to take place the next day; and Ito was invited. Before leaving, however, Kano told Hattori that he would ask the councillors of the clan to remain after the reception was over, so that they might discuss their plans for the future.

Ito and Hattori bowed good-bye, as they were going in different directions. Each carried a lantern, for it was dark, and there was no street lighting in Japan at that time. At the corner of the street, Ito stopped as if in doubt. Then, after a few moments, he seemed to make up his mind, for he turned to the left, and went hastily toward the castle entrance. The heavy gate was closed, but the little side gate stood ajar. Ito entered, and giving his name to the officer of the guard, went along the barracks where many of the samurai of lower rank dwelt. At last he stopped before a small door, and knocked softly. He heard a shuffling of feet, and a woman’s voice demanded who was there.

“Is Mr. Inouye[36] in?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell him that Ito Saburo wishes to see him.”

The woman seemed satisfied, for the door slid open, and Ito entered. Without waiting he mounted the steps, and opening a sho ji, stepped into a room, dimly lit by a rushlight placed in a paper lantern. Ito fell on his knees, and saluted in the usual manner, which salute was returned by the owner of the room, a man of Ito’s age, but of more slender build.

The two men had not met for two years; for Ito had been ordered to remain at the Choshiu yashiki in Yedo, and Inouye’s duties had kept him at Nagato. But they had corresponded by every courier carrying letters to and from the capital, for they had been friends ever since they were little boys. Yet when they met after such a long absence, there was no glad “Helloh!” with a hearty clasp of the hand, as we would meet an old friend. Pleased as they were to see each other again, they had been taught that good breeding demands that gentlemen should always show courtesy and respect to others of their own rank. Certain sentences must be uttered before any ordinary conversation can begin. Therefore Ito said:

“I was very rude the last time we met, but I hope you have forgiven me.”

“No,” replied Inouye, “it was I who was rude, and I pray you to overlook it.”

It is needless to say that neither of them had really been rude, but custom demanded that this should be said, and the same custom prevails in Japan to-day. We think that it is foolish, and the Japanese think us very rude, because we do not obey that custom.

After these customs had been observed, the two friends sat down, and Ito said:

“Has any progress been made in your studies of the barbarian nations?”

“Nothing worth boasting. I have been twice to Nagasaki to try if I could pick up some of the books of the Hollanders, but the Tokugawa officers will not permit any stranger to approach the island of Deshima, unless they are bribed with more money than I possess. Still, I have learned enough to know that Japan is not in a condition to fight the barbarians, and I am afraid, I think, that the regent was right in submitting to their demands.”

“I do not think so,” replied Ito. “Right! What right has the Tokuwaga to sell an inch of Japan’s soil. It does not belong to them. It is the property of Tenshi Sama, if it belongs to anybody. It makes me angry to think that we can no longer boast that

The foot of the invader has never trod our soil.”

“There will be no invasion,” said Inouye. “These men only want to trade. If they had intended to use force, they would have done so when they came the second time, with a large fleet. No! I do not believe that our country is in danger, at least not for some years. But they may come as spies to find out what opportunity there is to obtain possession of Japan. The Yedo government should try to discover what the intentions of the barbarians really are.”

“The Yedo government is only anxious to make money. You do not know, Inouye, how good it feels to breathe the pure air of Nagato. It is stifling at Yedo. Spies, spies are everywhere. The Tokugawa samurai seem to have forgotten that they are gentlemen, and how a samurai should behave. They are quick enough to draw their swords upon men who cannot defend themselves, but they are nimble with their feet when hard blows may be expected. If Japan must go to war, we, the samurai of the south will do the fighting. The day of the Tokuwaga is past.”

There was a brief silence, when Inouye said:

“I have not yet asked you what brings you here. I had not heard that you had been relieved from duty at Yedo.”

“I was not relieved. But we were informed that the Go rojiu intended to send new spies to the southern diamiyo, and I was ordered to inform the councillors of the clan. It seems that Sawa, the chief spy, arrived just before me. I suppose I shall be told to return to Yedo, but I hope not. At any rate I shall see you before I leave.”

After the usual salutations Ito rose and lit his candle. After leaving the door, he went through the grounds to the opposite barracks, where his mother lived. Knocking at the little wicket, he was admitted with many bows and glad exclamations. These he returned with some pleasant words, and entered the sitting-room. Presently his mother entered, and both knelt down and saluted in the respectful and courteous manner of their people. There was no kissing or even handshaking; both were, of course, very happy, but Japanese law forbade showing joy, even in the expression of the face. Ito would have obeyed at once any order his mother might have given him; but she considered him as the head of the family, and showed that she looked upon him as the master of the house.

“HIS MOTHER, SUFFERING FROM RHEUMATISM, TO RECEIVE MASSAGE TREATMENT FROM ONE OF THE SERVANTS.”

They chatted for half an hour about their acquaintances and then retired. Ito’s mother, suffering from rheumatism, to receive a massage treatment from one of the servants.

IV
THE FIFTH DAY OF THE ELEVENTH MONTH

The day broke calm and smiling. Japan, especially those parts around the Inland Sea, has a lovely climate. It is seldom that the sky is not of a deep blue color, and the days are few when children cannot play or walk in the streets. They are rarely kept in the house. Young babies are securely fastened upon the backs of children six or seven years old, and sent into the streets. There are no noisy games. Girls play sometimes battledore and shuttlecock, but the boys are too dignified. American boys would be surprised if they saw two Japanese school friends meet in the street. They do not approach with a hop, skip and jump, or clap each other on the shoulder. Oh no! They stop as soon as they meet, take off their caps, for all Japanese schoolboys wear now a sort of soldier cap, and then bow almost to the ground. Then they draw a deep breath, and each continues on his way.

The great difference between Japanese and American boys of the same age, is that all our boys are fond of fun, and we are glad to see them have a good time, while a Japanese boy would not be able to understand what we call fun. Our boys would soon grow sick if there were not some time in the day when they could make all the noise they wished. If a Japanese boy should make even the slightest unnecessary noise at home, his parents would think that the world had turned topsy-turvy. From his earliest youth, the boy is trained not to show his feelings. In all the years of my life in Japan, I have never seen a boy of over six years old with tears in his eyes.

It is eleven o’clock, and the guests begin to arrive. They come mostly on foot, for they all live in the neighborhood; but there are a few who hold such a high rank that they can only leave their yashiki in a sedan chair, or on horseback. A servant brings a large bundle, carefully wrapped. It is taken to the back room which has been made much larger by the removal of several sho ji. Here Mr. Kano sits in hakama and haori,[37] receiving each guest as he enters according to his rank in the clan. To some his bows are deeper and more prolonged, with others they are more simple, although at the entrance of every guest, his forehead touches his hands, spread out upon the floor before him. The visitors take their places about the room in the order of their rank, each saluting the host as he enters and thereafter the guests. Waitresses in a kneeling posture serve tea. At last a man of dignified bearing, clothed in rich silk, enters, and after saluting, sits down upon a cushion prepared for him near the master of the house. Kano is about to clap his hands, as a signal for his son to be brought in, when a man-servant opens a sho ji, and kneeling with his head almost touching the mats, crawls toward his master. He whispers:

“Mr. Sawa of Yedo desires to present his respects.”

Kano slightly raises his eyebrows, but by a slight bending forward indicates that the new-comer shall be admitted. After a few moments the latest guest enters and prostrates himself before his host, who returns the compliment. Kano with a slight motion of the arm indicates the place which he intends him to occupy, and Sawa, crouching and bowing to the guests proceeds in that direction. It is between the seats of the councillors and those of the chief samurai, and, as it happens, next to that of Ito.

Not a single glance showed that the visitor was unwelcome. No expression of approval had escaped their lips upon the entrance of a popular member of the clan, and not a sign showed that Sawa’s appearance at this time was resented. They sat unmoved, like the North American Indian chiefs. Kano clapped his hands, and the servant brought in a board, resembling one of our checkerboards; it was placed upon the mat near the father, facing the point of the compass which had been declared lucky by a fortune teller. The gentleman at Kano’s side then clapped his hands, and another servant brought in the package which had been delivered before. It was unwrapped, and contained a Kimono of fine silk, with beautifully embroidered storks and tortoises, fir trees and bamboos. This was as it should be. Storks and tortoises promised long life to the boy; for the Japanese believed that the stork lives a thousand years, and the tortoise ten thousand. The fir tree never changes its color, therefore the child will possess an unchanging virtuous heart, and the bamboo, as it shoots up straight, will give him an upright mind.

The servant holds up the dress for the inspection of the guests, who, after looking at it, express their approval by bowing low, and a deep drawn sigh. Presently Mrs. Kano, who has been watching the ceremony from a near apartment through a convenient slit in the sho ji, enters leading the boy. Both kneel at the entrance and after touching the ground three times with the forehead, the child is brought to his father, who places him upon the checkerboard facing the east, because that is the lucky point. The mother dresses him in the Kimono presented by the sponsor, and puts on the hakama; then the child receives an imitation sword and dirk, which are placed in his sash. Then sake is brought in and the sponsor and child exchange cups. This ends the ceremony which admits the three-year-old boy among the samurai of the clan.

Mother and son, after repeating their salutations, leave the room and refreshments are served. Gradually the sense of ceremony disappears, and conversation becomes more general. Kano, apparently deeply engaged in talking with the sponsor, keeps a watchful eye over his guests, and frequently casts a glance toward the spot occupied by Sawa. The sponsor, an elderly gentleman of dignified bearing, at last notices his host’s looks, and says:

“Who is that gentleman? He is a stranger to me, and I cannot distinguish his coat of arms.”

“He bears the Tokugawa crest, your lordship,” replies Kano, “and is the new O Metsuke, whom the Council at Yedo have kindly sent to report upon our model clan.”

The old gentleman did not notice the sarcasm. “When did he arrive, and why was his arrival not made known to me?” he inquired in a slightly offended tone. Kano bowed, and replied:

“Mr. Sawa arrived yesterday afternoon, and presented his letter at the castle, where Councillor Hattori was ordered to receive him. As we had not been notified by the Go rojiu of their intention to send us a metsuké, Mr. Hattori thought that the letter should be submitted to the council of the clan. I have noticed that he has spoken to the councillors, who will wait here until the other guests have withdrawn. If it please your lordship, we shall be glad to have the benefit of your advice.”

“No, I cannot spare the time, and the matter is of no great importance,” declared his lordship, continuing his repast. Presently they were joined by Hattori, for whom a cushion was brought, and who, after the prescribed bows of respect, took no further notice of Mori’s cousin.

“I think, friend Kano,” he said, “that you may as well keep an eye upon your honored guest, Mr. Sawa. The fellow seems to think that he is at Yedo, instead of in a gentleman’s yashiki and that he can do as he pleases. He has filled his sake cup quite often, and has been offensive, to judge by the looks of Ito.”

“I have perceived it,” replied Kano, “but Ito will, I am sure, keep his temper, and settle with the intruder upon a more favorable occasion. I am more afraid of the young fellows who seem to have heard some insulting remarks. Pray, entertain his lordship, while I dismiss the guests.” Without waiting for a reply, Kano rose and, bowing before each guest, advanced toward Sawa. There he knelt down and performed the usual salutations somewhat stiffly. Sawa returned them as well as he could.

When they had regained their upright positions, Kano addressed his self-invited guest, and said in a tone loud enough for some young samurai close by to hear:

“I am deeply grateful to the Go rojiu for remembering me on this occasion. I do not know how I deserved this honor.”

Sawa had some difficulty to hide a grin. Did this country bumpkin really fancy that the great Council of the Tokugawa cared anything about him or his family. Amused at the thought, he bowed, and said:

“The Go rojiu no doubt, if it had only known of the event, would have been glad to honor his host upon this occasion. It was known,” he added more soberly and looking sharply at Kano, “that the Choshiu clan was directed almost entirely by the wisdom of his entertainer, and the question had been discussed to secure his services for the Council. Unfortunately the law of Iyeyasu forbade it. Only members of the Tokugawa clan were permitted to serve the Shogun. But this did not prevent the Council from profiting by the wisdom of Kano the Councillor, and it was to secure this benefit that he, Sawa, had been directed to reside in the clan.”

Kano bowed, and replied. “It is a very great honor, indeed, and, no doubt, well deserved by such an able man as my guest. Pray, make yourself at home in the clan. You will find every Choshiu gentleman glad to receive a samurai from the capital, where he has advantages to learn manners which we in the country do not possess. But every samurai is glad to excel in chivalry, and we of Choshiu no less than those of other clans.”

Again they bowed, and Sawa resumed:

“I understand that this joyful event will be followed by a meeting of the Honorable Council?”

“The regular meeting is to-morrow,” replied Kano. “I have received no notice of any extra meeting, nor have I sent out any. It seems to me that you are misinformed.”

“Forgive me, my host. Who is that young man, who happened to be my neighbor during the most interesting ceremony? I fancy that I have seen him at Yedo.”

“That is probably so. Indeed, it may have been very recently, for he arrived yesterday. Choshiu’s yashiki seems to have suffered severely from the last earthquake, and expensive repairs are necessary. Our officer in charge thought it necessary to send a special messenger, but why he did not commission an older man, is beyond my comprehension.”

Sawa began to perceive that this country bumpkin was quite able to parry his thrusts; he did not want to give offense, and besides began to feel sleepy. He therefore informed his host of his intention to return to his inn. Kano raised no objection, and after the usual leave taking, escorted his guest to the door, and saw him leave the gate. Calling a young samurai, he bade him see that Sawa did not return to the yashiki, whereupon he re-entered the room. The other guests, seeing that the councillors lingered, withdrew all except Ito, who was asked to wait as he might be wanted.

V
THE COUNCIL OF THE CLAN

Before he seated himself, Kano called his chief samurai, and told him to have the sho ji put in so as to make the apartment of the usual size. He also ordered him to have several men patrol the garden, and to see that no one could approach the house, while he himself was to move noiselessly through the adjoining rooms, and answer for it that there should be no listener. Knowing that his orders would be obeyed, he sat down, ordered tea and hibachi to be brought, and without further ceremony opened the meeting.

“Honorable Councillors,” he said, “two messengers have come from Yedo. You have, no doubt, noticed them, for both were here during the ceremony in my humble house. The first one is the new metsuke, Sawa, whom it has pleased the Go rojiu to appoint to our clan. When Mr. Hattori informed me of his arrival, I could not understand the cause of his appointment. Our clan has had no trouble with the Tokugawa for many years; and, although there can be no friendship between the house of Iyeyasu and that of Mori, there has been no open hostility.

“The arrival of the second messenger explains the situation. The Go rojiu has entered into a new treaty with the barbarians, and permitted them to dwell at Yokohama, near Kanagawa on the Tokaido. This fine piece of news is discussed openly at Yedo, and there is no doubt of its truth. The Regent, naturally I think, feels somewhat anxious as to how the great clans will receive it, and has probably sent metsuke to other model clans besides Choshiu. The news is so important that our friend Hattori agreed with me to ask you to discuss it here privately, so that we may decide upon the policy of our clan. Honorable Mr. OKubo, what is your opinion?”

The person thus addressed was the oldest of the councillors, a man grown gray in the service of his clan. He was silent for some moments, gravely sipping his tea. Then he said:

“These questions are not for me to answer. I am only acquainted with Old Japan, as it has existed for hundreds of years, and I am afraid the arrival of these barbarians is a menace to our country. I don’t know them, and do not wish to know them; but I do know that, before the Tokugawa were thought of, the barbarians came, and were received kindly by the children of the gods. What was their gratitude? They began to teach a cult which destroyed the relations between parent and child, master and servant, lord and retainer. They were finally expelled, but it cost years of strife, and myriads of lives before their teaching was rooted out of the country. Since then order has been restored, and we have had peace. Now the barbarians will be admitted again, and fresh troubles will commence. Younger and stronger heads than mine will be needed to save our clan and the house of Mori, although, if it comes to war, I shall claim the honor of dying fighting for our lord.”

All bowed but protested that OKubo was strong and able enough to lead the councils of the clan; but he replied that his time of usefulness was past, and Kano, out of respect for his wish, addressed the councillor next in years. That gentleman did not see any danger to the clan. Yokohama was a long distance from Nagato, and if there was to be trouble with the barbarians, the Tokugawa would be the first sufferers, for it was within the territory belonging to the Shogun. As to the metsuke, why, they must do as they had done before with such fellows, surround him with spies of their own.

Thus every councillor spoke in turn, the opinion of each being received with grave courtesy. A little more interest was shown when Hattori began to speak. It was known that he was in Kano’s confidence, and it was a standing joke that Kano’s advice was always adopted.

“Honorable Councillors,” said Hattori, bowing deeply, “it ill becomes a man of my age to dispute the opinions of the leaders who for many years have guided the policy of our clan with brilliant success. If I venture to differ with them, it may be from lack of wisdom and experience, but I shall be glad if I am corrected. It is only by the kind teaching of such men as the honorable councillors, that men of my age can be prepared to follow in their footsteps.

“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.

“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.”

“No, I have not. Every plan I thought of, when I came to work it out, offered some very serious obstacle. I feel as if I am running my head against a stone wall. We may go into Yokohama, and if we are asked who we are, we may answer that we are rônin. But if they ask what we are doing, and we reply that we are curious to see the barbarians, they will say: Very well, you have seen them now, so you had better go about your business. From that time we shall be beset with spies, or we must leave. This is a difficulty which I had not foreseen.”

“Your idea is to study the barbarians, is it not?” said Inouye thoughtfully.

“Yes. Our clan must not act blindly. We must know what is the purpose of those men in coming here; but that is not all. We must also know their strength and their weakness.”

“There is but one way in which that may be done,” muttered Inouye, as if speaking to himself.

“Then that way must be chosen,” said Kano. “What is it? You do not hesitate on account of the danger, I hope?”

“No; but I do hesitate on account of the humiliation. Look here, Mr. Kano, I will give you my views frankly. If I were alone, that is, if I had been commissioned by you, I would have left my swords behind, and offered my services to these barbarians in any capacity. I would have entered into such employment as promised the best opportunity to watch them when they were among themselves and off their guard.”

“But how would you understand their speech. You do not suppose that they converse in our language, do you?”

“No,” replied Inouye, smiling, “but our Japanese interpreters at Nagasaki tell me that it does not take long to learn that tongue, and I do not suppose that there is much difference in the languages spoken by these barbarians.”

“Well,” said Kano, “I admire your scheme and like it. But such a step requires consideration. Let us return to our yadoya and think it over. To-morrow morning we can decide upon our future action.”

When they arrived in their room, the two friends sat down before the hibachi, smoking and sipping their tea. After some time Kano stretched himself on the mats, and was soon sound asleep. Inouye noiselessly opened a sho ji and slipped through, closing it in the same manner. He then went down to the lower floor, and entered the front part of the house which serves as office, kitchen, and as refreshment hall for transient wayfarers of the poorer class.

Here he found the landlord, squatting behind his tiny desk. As Inouye approached, the landlord bowed low, since, although the guest was now dressed in kimono only, and had left his swords up-stairs, he remembered having seen him enter as a samurai. Inouye sat down within easy reach of the landlord, and asked: “How far is it from here to Yokohama?”

“That depends, your honor, upon the way you may choose. Across the new causeway it is about two miles, but it is further by sampan.”

“Are there any guards?”

“There were, your honor, but the barbarians made so much fuss about them, that they were withdrawn.”

“Then anybody may go in there without any impertinent questions being asked?”

“Oh yes, your honor. The barbarians do not seem to care as to who comes.”

“Have you been there?”

“Yes, I have been there twice. When the first barbarians landed I thought that I would go and see how they looked. I was disgusted! Not one of them possessed any manners. They shouted at the top of their voices, pushed and crowded each other, and acted as if they were possessed of demons. It was horrible.”

“Then why did you go again?”

“My little son was very sick, and some traveler told me that these barbarians possessed powerful charms. Every physician said that the boy must die, and I thought that I would try to obtain a charm that would save the child’s life. So I went to the gate at the causeway and asked where I could purchase those charms. He told me that he did not know, but when he knew what I wanted them for, he advised me to go to an American physician who lives in Kanagawa near the causeway. I did so, and found him at home. He was a tall, powerful man, but very kind. There was a Japanese in his house who could understand me, and when the physician knew what was wanted, he and the Japanese gentleman went with me. When we came home, he asked some questions, examined the child tenderly, and gave it some medicine. He and his friend remained three hours, and only when the child was sleeping peacefully, did he leave. The next day he came again, and the next, and the next, and now the child is as well as ever. And he would not accept any money. All barbarians are not bad men, that is sure, but most of them are very rude.”

“Do you know how they live in their homes?”

“No. I have heard some young good-for-nothings of this place who had served them as kodz’kai[49] (attendant, servant) speak about them, but you can not believe what they say. Decent men will not enter their service. Only a few days ago the good physician asked me to get him an honest man, but, although I have tried hard and the wages are high, nobody cares to take the risk.”

“Is there any chance to secure work from them in Yokohama?”

“Oh! there is plenty of work, and the pay is good. But our people do not like it much. They have to work too hard. They are not allowed to rest a minute, and when one of them should smoke a pipe for a moment, and he is seen, he receives his pay up to that time, and is sent about his business. If they treat our people in that manner, it will not be long before they will have to do the work themselves.”

Inouye agreed with the landlord, and, while that worthy was giving change to a servant girl, he slipped up-stairs. He found Kano still asleep, and sat down before his hibachi thinking deeply. There was absolute silence in the room, save when he knocked the ashes out of his pipe.

It was quite dark when Kano awoke. “What, is it so late!” he said as he looked out on the balcony, and saw the lights of the ships in Yokohama harbor. “I thought I would sleep for an hour or so, and here I have taken a whole afternoon!”

“I am glad of it,” replied Inouye. “After supper we must stroll to the beach, for I have much to tell you. I do not think that there will be so very much difficulty in carrying out our plans. But it is best not to speak of them here.”

Kano nodded, and clapped his hands as a signal to serve up supper. They spoke about the food, and joked with the servants. After having satisfied their appetites, they strolled to the beach.

It was a calm, bright night; the only noises disturbing the almost oppressive silence, came from the ships in harbor, or from the shrill whistle of the blind shampooer, as he offered his services in the way peculiar to that trade. Kano led the way until they came to a little hillock where they could notice the approach of strangers. He sat down, and courteously motioned Inouye to take a seat by his side. Inouye did so, and at Kano’s request related his conversation with their landlord.

He then suggested that Kano should apply for the position of house servant of the barbarian physician, while he, Inouye, would try to secure work at Yokohama. But Kano would not hear of this. “No!” he said. “This physician seems to be a good man; you must go there, and I shall mingle with those rude people at Yokohama. But on ichi-roku nichi[50] we must meet here at eight o’clock, and communicate each other’s experiences. But what shall we do with our swords? They would betray us at once?”

“That, certainly, is a difficulty, but not a serious one. Let us think it over, we are sure to find some way out of it.”

The two samurai then returned to their inn and retired.

IX
NEW EXPERIENCE

After eating their breakfast at an early hour on the following morning, Inouye went down stairs in search of the landlord. He found him sitting at his desk, as if he had not left it since their last conversation. He called for the bill, and gave such a generous tip that the landlord was highly pleased, and showed it by his repeated and humble bows. Inouye made a suitable reply, and then said:

“Landlord, I have spoken with my elder brother about what you told me yesterday. The Go rojiu is anxious that some of our young men should learn the barbarian language, and we came here to look for the best ways and means, for it was decided in our family that I should try. It seems to me that the easiest way would be to live with them, and after what you have told me about the physician, I think I would like to serve him, and my brother agrees with me. Now, it does not matter who we are, but I am no good-for-nothing, and shall do my duty. For the present my name is Tomori, and I ask you if you will direct me to this physician?”

“I shall do better than that,” replied the landlord. He clapped his hands, and when a servant appeared, he told him to bring OKichi[51] San. Soon after the Honorable Master Kichi appeared. “Honorable Master Kichi,” said his father to the eight year old urchin, “take this gentleman to the house of the American physician.” Kichi bowed, and leading the way, brought Inouye to a private house, off the Tokaido and near the causeway leading to Yokohama. There was a small but well kept garden in front. It was a house which had evidently been built for a well-to-do samurai, but Inouye noticed that the sho ji, instead of being of paper, were of a transparent substance, probably glass.

Kichi pulled the rope of a gong, the sound of which brought a pleasant looking Japanese gentleman to the door.

Inouye bowed, and his salute was returned in the same ceremonious manner. He then asked if he could see the barbarian physician. “I am sorry,” said the other, “but he is out. He will be back very soon, I think; be pleased to enter.” He showed Inouye the way to a back room, with tatami[52] on the floor, and, after repeating the salutations, said:

“I hope that it is not on account of illness that you wish to see the physician?”

“No,” replied Inouye. “I shall tell you frankly what brings me here, for I hope to secure your valuable assistance. I have always had a love for books and knowledge, and am very anxious to study foreign languages. I consulted my elder brother, and we came to Kanagawa together. At the inn we heard how kindly this physician had treated our host, and also that he is in need of a servant. My brother and I thought that if my services were acceptable, I should offer them such as they are.”

“You are not a Tokugawa man, I fancy.”

“Why should I not be?”

“Because your speech savors from the south,” was the answer. “I did not ask you that question from motives of curiosity, but because most of the men who enter into the service of foreigners, are such as are bound to find their way to jail. Every foreigner prefers any servant to one from this neighborhood. What name do you wish to go by? I hear the physician’s footstep, and will speak to him at once.”

He left the room, but returned quickly, preceded by a bearded man in the full vigor of life. Inouye prostrated himself before the stranger, who said in Japanese which sounded quaint although quite intelligible:

“Mr. Tanaka tells me that you wish to enter my service, and I am willing to try you. You are expected to be here from seven in the morning until nine in the evening, and will receive a salary of five riyo.[53] You shall have a room, which Mr. Tanaka will show you, and you can share the meals with the other servants. If you need anything, ask Mr. Tanaka; or if you want to speak to me, come to my room. I shall expect you to-morrow morning; you can now go and bring here what you may have as baggage.”

Inouye prostrated himself again. Tanaka then showed him his room, which was in one of the outhouses, but far more pleasant than his own quarters in Choshiu. Everything was clean. He was then taken to the room where the servants took their meals, and to the bathroom reserved for them. At last Tanaka told him that he could take possession at any time during that day, so as to feel more at home when his duties should commence.

When he had left the physician’s house, Inouye hastened back to the inn. He was dazed and did not know what to think. He would tell his new experience to Kano and consult with him. He entered the yadoya, and, answering the smiling landlord’s humble welcome with a slight bow, he hurried up-stairs. Kano was evidently expecting him, but showed not the least sign of curiosity. Both saluted as became samurai, and upon Kano’s invitation, Inouye sat down and lit his pipe, waiting for Kano to speak first.

“Have you succeeded?”

“I have.”

“When will you enter?”

“I have agreed to begin to-morrow morning, but I can occupy my room to-day, and bring in my baggage.”

“Then you had better make some purchases. Here are a hundred riyo. Nay, do not hesitate,” for Inouye was surprised at such a large sum being offered to him, “for your work is of great value to the clan, and you may need it; something may occur, or you may be suspected, and Choshiu can not afford to lose so worthy a samurai as my young friend Inouye has proved to be.” Inouye bowed low, to hide his confusion. It was so rare that a samurai of Kano’s rank bestowed praise that Inouye was deeply moved. Kano pretended not to notice the emotion, and continued: “While you are making your purchases after dinner, I shall go to Yokohama and see what success I may achieve. But what shall we do with our swords?”