“I agree with my lord Nijo. Why does not the Shogun expel the barbarians, as is his duty? The Court has ordered him to do so, and he has replied that he will do it as soon as the necessary preparations are made. So that matter is settled, it seems to me. I do not see what Mori, Shimadzu, and other captains have to do with it. His Majesty issues his commands to the Shogun who executes them reverently. These proceedings are highly improper, as my Lord Nijo said. If Mori desires any favor from the Fount of All Honor, let him apply to Iyemochi, and when his request, properly endorsed, reaches us through the proper channel, it will be considered and answered in due time.”
It was now Sanjo’s turn. “I have listened, my lords, with profound satisfaction to the lessons drawn from the ripe experience of my seniors. But I submit that our visitors be heard, since, having the misfortune to be mere soldiers, they may not be able to appreciate to the full extent the wisdom concentrated within the Council of Kuge.”
At this appeal to their forbearance, the kuge bowed, and Kano, seizing his fan, began in a low but distinct voice:—
“I feel deeply, my lords, my own unworthiness, and appreciate the honor of being admitted to this august assembly.” Here he prostrated himself, and remained fully three minutes, his head resting upon his outstretched hands. He then recovered his position, and continued:—
“Only a few years ago the country of the gods was at peace, thanks to Tenshi Sama and his intercession with the divine ancestors, and the repose of the Son of Heaven was undisturbed. Suddenly black ships appeared near the capital of the Tokugawa, and, being ordered to withdraw, refused to obey this reasonable behest. What did Tokugawa do? Smite the disobedient barbarians and hurl them back to their own desolate country? No! Tokugawa was afraid. The strangers departed but returned with reinforcements the next year. There had been ample time to call upon the clans to prepare for their visit, but Tokugawa was afraid. The Go rojiu pretended to be unprepared, and conceded all that the barbarians saw fit to ask. It was not much, but it was only the beginning of their demands. Four years later they asked more. They wanted land and the Tokugawa sold what was not his to sell. It was only a few tsubo,[84] in a poor fishing village, but it was soil of the country of the gods, part of the inheritance of the Son of Heaven. What did the divine ancestors say about this alienation of their sacred soil? My lords, you lay the blame of the disturbance of the sacred bosom upon me. I and my clan are ready to expiate our sin, if by doing so we can restore peace to the Light of our Day, to Tenshi Sama. But that peace can be restored only by placating His Majesty’s ancestors, when they receive back their own.”
Unconsciously, for Kano was not acting but meant every word he said, he stopped and allowed time for his words to sink into their breasts. No one lost his decorum, still, a movement of the fan, or a readjustment of the haori, betrayed the uneasiness of the kuge.
Kano resumed suddenly, with a slightly elevated voice:
“Aye, the divine ancestors must be placated, peace must be restored within the sacred walls of the Gosho, but the barbarians must be expelled before it can be accomplished. Hark ye! my lords. Myriads of samurai have come to this capital, and there is but one shout: Sonno-Joï! Revere the Emperor! Expel the foreigners! The breeze from the ocean gently fans our cheeks, so long as the gods look placidly down, while we, their humble servants, pay them our dues in respectful homage. But sometimes we fail in our duty. The breeze turns into a wind, the wind into a tai-fu,[85] and it sweeps all before it, the hovel of the laborer and the roof of the temple. What mortal can bid it refrain? The Yamato Damashii is the lovable zephyr of our country, but the presence of these insolent barbarians has converted it into a mighty wind. Hark ye, my lords, do you hear it swell? Sonno Joï! It is turning into a tai-fu now!”
Assuming the plaintive and appealing voice to which the language lends itself so well, Kano continued as if in self-commune:—
“We heed it not. The storm centres in our beloved land where the sun rises, but there is no rift in the clouded sky. The sun smiles upon the myriads of ships, cleaving the blue waters, and hurrying to the shores of our land. It is one long procession. Their spies have told the barbarians in their inhospitable regions of the one country where the gods love to dwell. From tens of rude, insolent men, they have increased to hundreds; they are now thousands and will soon be myriads. Tokugawa is no longer a vassal of Tenshi Sama, he is a servant to men scarce better than brutes. Hyogo and Osaka, are in their possession. The two roads to the sacred capital are crowded with them. Ye gods! will ye not at least preserve the Gosho and your child? They press against the wall, it gives way. Where is the peace and contemplation of the sacred enclosure now!”