Historic Adventures: Tales from American History

by Rupert Sargent Holland

The monsters were four ships of the United States navy, the Mississippi, Susquehanna, Plymouth, and Saratoga, all under command of Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry. The fleet dropped anchor in the wide bay, forming a line broadside to the shore. The gun-ports were opened, and sentries set to guard against attack by pirates, or by fire-junks. As the anchors splashed in the water rockets shot up from one of the forts on shore signaling to the court at Yedo that the barbarians had reached Japan.

The town of Uraga was usually not a very busy place, and the government officers spent their time drinking tea, smoking, and lounging in the sun, and occasionally collecting custom duties from junks bound to other harbors. But there was a great bustle on the day the strange ships arrived. The chief magistrate, or buniō, his interpreter, and suite of attendants, put on their formal dress of hempen cloth, and fastened their lacquered ornamented hats to their heads; with two swords in each belt, the party marched to the shore and boarded their state barge. Twelve oarsmen rowed it to the nearest foreign ship, but when they tried to fasten ropes to the vessel so that they might go on board, the barbarians threw off the ropes, and gestured to them to keep away.

The Japanese officer was surprised to find that, although he was gorgeously robed, and his companions carried spears and the Tokugawa trefoil flag, the barbarians were not at all impressed. They told him, through an interpreter, that their commander wished to confer with the governor himself. The officer answered that the governor was not allowed to board foreign ships. After some further discussion the surprised Japanese was permitted to climb the gangway ladder and meet the barbarians on the deck of their vessel.

Commodore Perry knew that the Japanese loved mystery, high-sounding names, and ceremonies, and so he stayed in his cabin and would not show himself to the visitors. A secretary carried his messages, and explained that the mysterious commodore had come on a friendly mission and bore a letter from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan, which he wished to present with all proper ceremony. He declined to go to Nagasaki, and insisted that he should remain in Yedo Bay, and added that although his visit was entirely friendly, he would not allow any inquisitive sightseers to prowl about his fleet. Very much impressed with the power of this hidden barbarian, the Japanese officer immediately ordered all the small boats, the punts and sampans that had gathered about the fleet, to row away.

The officer and his body-guard returned to shore, and told the villagers that the visitors were very remarkable men, who were not at all impressed by their costumes or weapons. The Japanese had no such title as commodore in their language, and they referred to Perry as Admiral, and credited him with almost as much majesty as their own hidden Mikado, or as the mighty Shogun.

The western coast of Japan was much excited that night. Rockets from the forts, and huge watch-fires on the cliffs, told the whole country that a most unusual event had happened. The peasants set out their sacred images, and prayed to them as they had not done in years. It was evident that the gods of Japan were punishing the people for their neglect by sending these great fire-vessels to disturb the coast. To add to the general excitement a wonderful light appeared in the sky about midnight, spreading a pale red and blue path across the heavens, as though a dragon were flying through space. Priests and soothsayers made the most of this display of Northern Lights, and pointed out that the fire-vessels, clearly revealed in the harbor, must have something to do with the strange omen.

The governor of Uraga himself, with a retinue of servants, all clad in embroidered gowns and lacquered helmets, and each carrying two swords, went out to the flag-ship next morning. He had evidently overlooked the fact that the barbarians had been told on the day before that the governor could not pay such a visit to their fleet. The governor was used to being received with a great deal of attention, and to having people bow to the ground as he went by; but on the deck of the Susquehanna the sailors looked at him with simple curiosity, and when he asked to speak with the mysterious admiral, he was told that he would only be allowed to speak with the captains. These men said that their commander would only wait three days for an answer from Yedo as to whether the Mikado would receive the letter of the President. They showed him the magnificent box that held the letter, and the governor's curiosity grew even greater. When he left the flag-ship he had promised to urge the Americans' cause.

Next day, the men dressed in silk and brocade, painted helmets, and gleaming sashes, eager to visit the ships again, were surprised to learn that the barbarian prince would transact no business. His interpreter declared that it was a day of religious observance, known as Sunday. The people on shore heard the sailors of the fleet singing hymns, a strange sound in those waters. Hastily the Japanese offered new presents at the shrines of their own gods to ensure protection from the barbarians. 8 By now the hermit people thought they might have to guard themselves, and began to build earthworks along the shore. Farmers, fishermen, shopkeepers, women, and children were pressed into service. Rude embankments were thrown up, and enormously heavy brass cannon were placed at openings. The old samurai, who had almost forgotten warfare, sought out their weapons, and gathered their troops. Their armor consisted of jackets of silk, iron and paper. Their arms were old matchlocks and spears. They could have fought each other, but they were several hundred years behind the barbarians in military matters. On the hills they set up canvas tents, with flags bearing flaming dragons and the other emblems of their clans. In the days of their civil wars bright-colored trappings had played an important part.

Yedo was then the chief city of Japan. When Perry arrived in 1853 it was the home of the Shogun Iyéyoshi, who was the real ruler of the land, although the Mikado was called the sovereign. Yedo had been the home of a long line of Shoguns of the Tokugawa family who had ruled the country, calling themselves "Tycoons." They had built up the city, and filled it with palaces and temples that had never been equaled in magnificence. The people of Yedo, numbering over a million, were greatly excited when they heard of the fleet of war-ships lying in their great bay. The Shogun, his courtiers and his warriors bestirred themselves at once. Soldiers were summoned, armor polished, swords unsheathed, castles repaired, and everything possible done to make an impression on the strangers.

The chief men knew that they could not oppose this foreign admiral. Once they had had war-vessels of their own, but years of peace had reduced their navy, and they could not defend their coasts. The Shogun was afraid that the admiral might insist upon seeing the Mikado at Kiōto, and that would be a great blow to his own dignity. After hours of debate and discussion he chose two daimios to receive the letter of the American President, Millard Fillmore, and sent word to all coast towns to man their forts.