The Japanese fairly trembled at the Commodore’s apparent excitement, supposing they had grossly offended him. When, however, explanation was made by the interpreters, they all laughed right heartily, and the business continued.
The Ninth Article, or the “favored nation” clause was introduced at the suggestion of Dr. S. Wells Williams.[[34]]
Unknown to any of the Americans, Nakahama Manjiro, who had received a good common school education in the United States, sat in an adjoining room, unseen but active, as the American interpreter for the Japanese. All the documents in English and Chinese were submitted to him for correction and approval.[[35]] He was afterwards made curator of the scientific and mechanical apparatus brought by Perry and presented by the United States government, and in 1860, he navigated the first Japanese steamer, commanded by Katsŭ Awa, to Hawaii and California. Katsŭ Awa was one of the captains commanding the troops detailed to watch carefully “the American barbarians, lest they should proceed to acts of violence.”
While the negotiations were progressing, the other ships arrived, making ten in all. Presents and bouquets were exchanged, and guests and hosts amused each other. American palates were tickled with castira (Castile) or sponge-cake, rice beer, candied walnuts, Suruga tea, pickled plums, sugared fruits, sea-weed jelly, luscious crabs and prawns, dried persimmons, boiled eggs, fish soups, broiled tai, koi and karei fresh from the nets of the Yokohama fisherman. They essayed or avoided the impossible dishes of cuttle and sliced raw fish. All was served in the baby-house china and lacquered ware of the country. Some of the officers were vividly reminded of their infantile days.
The Japanese were regaled with viands that were master-pieces of American cookery. To the intense amusement of the “children of the gods,” the lords of the kitchen were kurumbō (blacks), a color and a creature such they had seen only in their own theatres when candle-holders with lamp-blacked faces illuminated the facial performances of actors. Save the dignified professor, Hayashi, they became over-flowingly merry over champagne and the national mixed drinks of the Great Republic. They learned the mysteries of mint-juleps and brandy-smashes. They lost their center of gravity over puddings and potations, and then laughed themselves sober at the sailors’ exhibition of negro minstrelsy. They were shown the discipline and drill of the ships, and the evolution of the marines. They were delighted with presents which revealed the secrets of the foreigners’ power. Rifles and gunpowder, the electric telegraph, the steam locomotive and train, life-boats, stoves, clocks, sewing-machines, agricultural implements and machinery, standard scales, weights, measures, maps and charts, the works of Audubon and other American authors were presented, most improperly labeled or engraved “To the Emperor of Japan.” The Mikado, Japan’s only emperor, never saw them, though the writer did in the storerooms of the exiled Tycoon at Shidzŭoka in 1872. The American may proudly note how very large a share his countrymen have had in inventions and in applications of the great natural forces that have revolutionized modern society. That one mile of telegraph wire has now become thousands; and that tiny railway, with toy locomotive and one car able to hold only a child, was the germ of the railway system in the Mikado’s empire. Historic truth compels us to add that among the presents there were one hundred barrels of whiskey, a good supply of cherry cordial, and champagne. Thus did the new civilization with its good and evil confront the old. New Japan was to be born in the age of steam, electricity, the photograph, the newspaper and the printing-press; yet in the train of the culture of the West was to follow its curses and enemies. With the sons of God came Satan also.
In return, the Japanese presented the delicate specialties of the artisans of their country, in bronze, lacquer, porcelain, bamboo, ivory, silk and paper; with coins, match-locks and swords, which now rest in the Smithsonian Institute. For the squadron, one hundred kokŭ (five hundred bushels) of rice and three hundred chickens were provided. They entertained their guests with wrestling matches between the prize bipeds whose diet includes the entire fauna of Japan. Strangely enough, they did not play dakiu or polo, their national game on horseback, in which so many of their riders excel. All the presents were duly wrapped in paper, with a symbolic folded paper and dried fish skin.
During the two months and more of the presence of the ships in the bay, the Japanese cruisers and spy-boats kept watch and ward in cordon, though at a distance from the Americans. This was to prevent political enemies and too eager students from getting aboard in order to leave Japan. Again and again did Yoshida Shoin and his companion attempt to break the blockade, but in vain. The pair then set off overland to Shimoda.
When the telegraph poles and rails for the locomotive had been made ready, the news of the exhibition about to be given fired the samurai of Yedo with consuming curiosity to see. All sorts of pretexts were made to obtain permission to be on the spot. Egawa, a noted flag-supporter whose yashiki or feudal palace lay near Shiba in Yedo, insisted on coming to Yokohama on the pretext of guarding the treaty building. He was ordered back, and it was hinted that Sanada’s men at arms could perform worthily the coveted duty. If the Americans made war and proceeded to Yedo, Egawa’s picked men could die more nobly “under the Shō-gun’s knee.” As the Japanese narrator learned afterwards, Egawa’s real purpose was to learn telegraphy and the secrets of steam engineering. It is not at all improbable that among his band of well-dressed gentlemen were expert mechanics as well as students who had from the Dutch at Nagasaki obtained their first knowledge of western inventions.
The treaty was signed March 31st, 1854. Its provisions are thus given by a Japanese author[[36]]:—
