With Perry to Japan: A Memoir
Wilhelm Heine, With Perry to Japan: A Memoir. Translated, with an introduction and annotations by Frederic Trautmann (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1990). Originally published as Wilhelm Heine, Reise um die Erde nach Japan an Bord der Expeditions-Escadre unter Commodore M.C. Perry. 2 volumes (Leipzig: Herman Costenoble; New York: Carl F. Gunther, 1856).
Wilhelm Heine was appointed as the official artist of the Japan Expedition. He was instructed to visually catalogue all of the events of the expedition. In the official narrative there are numerous references to Heine's work, with the record often noting, "Mr. Heine made a drawing of it." Heine did much more than a drawing, however, as he produced hundreds of sketches, landscapes, portraits, and watercolors of Japan. While on the Expedition, Heine not created an astounding visual narrative but he also kept his own journal. The following are excerpts from his journal.
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Chapter Eleven: Return to Edo Bay (Page 100) [top]
At Dawn on 11 February we saw land, the island groups south of the Bay of Edo. There was a volcano on the southern tip of the first island, four thousand to five thousand feet tall, crater covered by sulphur or yellow ash. Meanwhile a fresh nor'easter strengthened hourly. We held course until a little past sunset, when the wind changed to a storm. The commodore signaled, Heave to! Maintain intervals of one mile! I had been topside all day to photograph the coastline with Mr.B [rown]. The temperature had dropped from 65 to 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Nearly frozen stiff, I [went below and] lay down. About 11:00PM the storm got so bad that the pipe called, "All hands about ship!"
Nature raged. The storm drove dense fog before it, reducing visibility to a scant one hundred paces. A downpour of fine sleet, icy needles, cut our face; we could scarcely open our eyes. A roar and a clamor filled the air, as if gigantic gongs were being struck or steel drums pounded. The terrible fog blacked out the lights of other ships, rendering our situation near critical, at least for the ships of sail, as we faced the danger of collision. But we stood off the lee shore, therefore in seas not extremely high, and a powerful steamship could hold position without hardship. Toward morning the storm diminished somewhat, and the commodore signaled again, Resume normal intervals and follow the flagship. Cape Izu lay to the west now, and the steep and rugged coast ran north.
We were to the north of the Bay of Odowara and west of the Bay of Edo. During last night's storm the Macedonian had run aground on one of Odowara's coral reefs. The Mississippi, sent at once to help, easily pulled her free; but, having therefore been forced to stop for awhile, we could not that day reach the Bay of Edo.
We anchored for the night. A little after sunset the Lexington joined us. We saw nothing of Captain Boyle and his Southampton, and the absence worried us. On the morning of the thirteenth some took others in tow: the Powhatan, the Vandalia, the Mississippi, the Macedonia, and the Susquehanna, the very tardy Lexington. We steamed straight for the Bay of Edo.
I cannot remember a more beautiful view than the one I beheld that morning. The breeze had freshened again; it was pleasant. Several snow-capped peaks could already be seen during the night. When the sun rose in a clear sky, a chain of snowy mountains, five thousand to seven thousand feet high, described about a third of a circle before us. The volcanic Fujiyama lifted its gigantic head above them. Streaks of lava drew black lines on Fuji's snowfields. The panorama might have been of an array of alpine glaciers- dwarfed by Aetna itself. Morning mist still cloaked the ocean and, in the light of the new day, cast over everything a tone of delicate rose. I had to get my paint box- the bite of the cold could not stop me. I had to put the splendid scene to canvas as well as it could be done on such short notice.
We rounded Sagami Point at noon and passed our old anchorage at Uraga at 2:00 P.M. The moment we reached Point Rubicon we saw to our delight old Captain Junius Boyle and his Southampton; anchored, as cosily and attractively as could be, in a fine and spacious inlet about fifteen miles up the bay. Boyle's anchorage being excellent, the commodore signaled to the squadron, Anchor here. We formed a half-moon, facing the coast.
On the fourteenth an embassy came aboard and invited the commodore to go back to the anchorage of the year before. "Preparations have been made to receive you there." The old sea dog acted friendly while at once declining with energy and resolve. "I don't know what it means to go back."
During the following days each ship dispatched its first cutter, and up the bay they went to finish the nautical survey unfinished the year before. Lieutenant Whiting of the Vandalia and I joined the work together. The Japanese interfered not a bit, but cold and storm encumbered it. A piercing chill, and twelve hours of turbulence rolling in high seas, left my head empty and me confused. Evenings I often could not write a decent sentence — or even think straight — so nasty was the work.
23 February
Many long, boring discussions with the Japanese officials ended at last. It was decided that Flag Captain Adams would confer with the imperial delegation in Uraga over preparations. On the twenty-third Adams boarded the Vandalia to be carried to Uraga. His party consisted of Major Jacob Zeilen, Lieutenant James H. Jones, Lieutenant Boncraft, Captain Robert Tansill, Purser Joseph C. Eldridge, Secretary Oliver H. Perry II, Mr. Anton L.C. Portman, Mr. N.B. Adams, and my humble self.
We did as we had done on this occasion the year before. We boarded the Vandalia. A Japanese group, our escort, crossed to us from the coast. We must go about fifteen miles from our anchorage back to Uraga, as I have said. The wind, light and favorable at the start, shifted and roared in a sudden betrayal; we had not so much rounded the Uraga peninsula [our Point Rubicon] when a bumptious storm, a nor'easter, opposed us. We strained to exhaustion for two hours and must finally anchor in the shelter of the lee shore. Our escort declined our invitation to spend the night on board. They had been ordered to arrive at Uraga by sea, and they held fast to the order. Every last one of them climbed into the two boats that had brought them to us. Lives at risk, they rowed toward the shore and through the surf along it and disappeared at last around the point.
The storm persisted in its rage. We had to drop all four anchors. A cold rain, with ice, slammed and poked us — in the apt words of one of our sailors — "like boarding pikes with points downward." Luckily the Susquehanna's band was there; they, together with the hospitality of our hosts of the Vandalia, helped passed the long, hostile night as agreeably as possible. The storm subsided toward morning. We weighed anchors and set sail again.
It was the twenty-second of February, birthday of the great Washington. Could a better day have been chosen for our fateful rendezvous? Large American flags waved from our masts, fore and mizzen. A banner streamed from the main nearly to the deck. The squadron wore the same decorations; we saw the ships poised on the horizon. At 11:00 A.M. we reached approximately the place, opposite Uraga, where, the year before, our ships had ridden happily and auspiciously at anchor. The Japanese delegation returned and boarded. Soon we went ashore in the first cutter and the long boat, arriving punctually at noon. Exactly then, to celebrate the historic day, our cannon thundered. This time we had nothing military about us; even the usual sidearm at the belt had been left behind, to prove to the Japanese our trust in their assurances of friendship. Our officers retained only their dress sabres.
Uraga might as well be called the port of entry for Edo; no vessel can enter the bay without stopping at Uraga and being inspected. Perhaps that is the reason that Japanese wanted to meet us there. Among Uraga's waterfront houses, at the shoreline, several buildings had been erected for the purpose. One black-and-white cloth barrier enclosed them. From the other side an inquisitive crowd surged against the barrier. A number of men, though armed with long truncheons, could scarcely restrain them. Within, first, there was an outer court, with a guardhouse, their weapons arrayed behind them in red flannel cases. At the second inner door of this area another squad, of six this time, carried only the customary swords at the belt.
We passed from that area into a grand hall about fifty paces long and twenty-five wide and twelve to fourteen feet high. New mats of finely woven straw had been laid. Pillars at the far end circled a small section covered by a canopy of violet silk. Seats for each of us had been installed on the left and on the right for the imperial councilors, with tables of corresponding height in front of the seats for us, but none for the councilors. Galleries, with windows of oiled paper, ran along the right and left walls. About 150 to 200 Japanese occupied the galleries in the Japanese way; kneeling or squatting on their heels. In the center of the hall eight stands each held a metal brazier filled with something white. The stands were of wood lacquered black and fitted with gilded metal; the white substance was ground pumice or limestone, and on it a warming fire of coal burned in each brazier. These appliances, like the fitting-out of the entire hall, though simple, looked nonetheless extraordinary genial.
We took our seats. Presently the three imperial councilors entered and sat opposite. We exchanged courtesies, then got to the point. The Japanese wanted to conduct all negotiations in Uraga, but Perry did not want to return to Uraga's less favourable anchorage. He would move the negotiations to the city opposite his present anchorage. The distance would be too great for the councilors? He countered with the offer of one of our steamships to convey everybody to where he wanted to negotiate. Captain Adams carried this proposal and several other points in writing across to the commissioners and orally added several explanations and comments. The councilors listened with attention and promised an answer the next morning.
They withdrew. The governor of Uraga, Yezaimon, and his officials now did the honors. Refreshments were served: tea, pastry, fine confections, and oranges came on lacquered plates; the tea, in blue-and-white porcelain cups on a tray of lacquered wood. The first-rate craftsmanship of the plates included gilt-work of exceptional artistry and handsome in relief. Guests by pairs shared two silver tankards, about a bottle and a half of saki in one and miri in the other. Miri and saki are prepared of rice, but miri tastes savory with the flavor of muscatel. I had never regretted an absence of those thimble-sized cups, but I missed them now as we drank from tiny and shallow dishes of lacquered wood.
Meanwhile the wind strengthened until we dared not return to the boats. So we tarried long after negotiations ended. Alcohol and tobacco made everyone happy, and international relations approached intimacy. One of the [Japanese] interpreters spoke rather good English, learned from Captain Maxwell.(This American whaler, shipwrecked on the coast of Izu and four years a prisoner in Matsmai, had been surrendered at last to the sloop-of-war Preble in 1849.) Mr. Portman and I chatted with the interpreters in Dutch. With others we used sign language and achieved as much understanding as the medium permits. The Japanese examined and studied our uniforms, sabres, watches, and every last trifle we had on us. In turn they eagerly shared Japanese curiosities, even showing us their small swords. (We knew that the sword would otherwise be kept punctiliously in the scabbard.) They were of bluish steel, these swords, superb in quality, and so sharp that we could cut thin paper on the razor-like edge. Even our money must stand inspection, and the scrutiny included questions about the value of each piece. Conversely we saw not one Japanese coin. A map of the United States, in pocket edition, caused intense study and prompted urgent questions about climate, products, and other aspects of individual states. Questions continued with equal urgency:
"Is it true that anyone can go to California and find gold?"
"How many ships are in the squadron?"
"How long did it take to get here?"
"In one year, 160 American ships have been sighted, passing through the Straits of Matsmayae [the Tugaru Straits]. Why are so many coming to the Sea of Japan?" (The ships were American whalers. I note, by the way, that their frequency in these waters seems to have done us much good.)
As for the Japanese things that I saw, let me mention a quadrant of delicate and graceful workmanship; a book with woodcuts; a musket, superbly crafted, with a beautiful barrel and gold fittings; a small, flintlock pistol, complete at a length of two inches; and a book of various flags, among them the flag of the emperor himself, which was pointed out to me.
Joy so increased and relations grew so friendly that at last several young and stylish Japanese put on our caps and coats, strolled to and fro, and disported themselves with this masquerade.
Toward evening the wind subsided enough that we could return to the Vandalia. Four or five of us rode in the boats of the Japanese who accompanied us, and our presence seemed to please them to the utmost. Thinly dressed, they obviously suffered from the biting cold. Therefore I took two with me under my huge cape. One was a cultivated and likeable young man, the interpreter Tokojuru. A comrade of mind took another two with him under his. I thus caused hilarity, and so did he, Japanese and Americans parted with regret when we reached the ship. The generous, the proper, the gracious manner of our hosts had impressed and touched my comrades and me, each and every one of us.
On the morning of the twenty-third, the day after Perry proposed to meet somewhere other than Uraga, Governor Yezaimon came aboard with the reply. "The law, hitherto permitting Japanese trade with nobody but the Chinese and the Dutch, has been changed expressly to include the Americans. Nothing remains but for Commodore Perry to appear in Uraga, where the imperial councilors await him, to settle the details of the agreement."
On board the Powhatan
26 February
Captain Adams suggested changes in the communications between the councilors and Commodore Perry, and we had to remain during the twenty-third; that is, until the changes should reach their destination. On the twenty-fourth we set sail on our return. Rounding Point Rubicon, we expected to see the squadron. It was gone. A riddle- soon solved. The commodore that morning had gone about ten miles farther up the bay to where he had found an even better anchorage. By evening, rejoining the squadron, we had put into our old position, two cable-lengths from the Susquehanna.
Punctually, the morning of the twenty-fifth, a delegation reappeared at our latest anchorage, off Kanegawa, a city of some importance. In this last try they proposed to the commodore again, "Return to Uraga." He refused; he would not budge. Then, at last, they said that the councilors would come to us. They asked Captain Adams to pick the place. The choice: a piece of open field a half mile east of Kanegawa. At Uraga there was haste to dismantle the buildings erected for negotiations and to reassemble them in the place now so designated instead.
Chapter Twelve: A Treaty At Last [top]
In the Bay of Edo, 11 March 1854
The Eighth of March arrived in spring weather at its finest. Only a few small white clouds dotted a deep blue sky; from that sky — to announce the first, the beautiful season — a warm sun beamed bright. On all ships since early morning, life had throbbed. Action, action everywhere. Boats, lowered into the water, received guns and ammunition. Marines, in parade dress, gave weapons a final polish and checked the white leather. Had any spots appeared overnight? Meanwhile, Jack Tar of the navy cut a handsome and dapper figure: blue jacket and trousers, the thirteen stars on a tri-colored band around the cap, dress sabre at the left hip, and pistol at the right. On the quarterdeck, epaulets shone and gold braid gleamed. In short, every man had done all he could to look as becoming and as impressive as possible for the long-awaited, momentous, fateful meeting between Commodore Perry and the imperial councilors.
At 10:00 the flagship signaled, all boats prepare to rendezvous. Whereupon from each ship boats full of men pushed off and assembled into a line of cable-length in front of the ships. Ten longboats composed the line's center. Four of them carried twenty-four pounders off the Powhatan and the Susquehanna, and the rest carried twelve pounders. The lighter boats, all twenty-eight, arranged themselves into two wings. Captain Buchanan of the Susquehanna [in charge of the day's military proceedings] commanded this small flotilla, from a position [in a gig] out in front.
The choirs off the three frigates had been distributed along the line. At 11:00, slowly and like a battalion on the parade field, the line began to move amid the singers' cheerful tones. What a beautiful sight: the squadron's eight ships in a row over a mile long; the three steamers and the Macedonian asserting sprung batteries; parallel to them, the line of boats, filled with officers, marines, and sailors, their cannon polished and shining, and their personal weapons gleaming in the sun; and flags fluttering their joyful stars and happy stripes in the mild breeze.
Six hundred men landed without trouble. The marines and sailors, in eight companies, drew up first into review formation, facing the water at the landing site. Then they assembled into three sides of a square. The square's upper end enclosed the hall erected for the reception. In effect the boats, anchored off the beach, completed the square on its fourth side.
The Powhatan fired the commodore's salute, thirteen guns. The commodore's boat burst at the same moment out of the white smoke, the commodore's grand flag flying. His escort awaited him, thirty and more officers already at the landing site. He stepped onto Japanese soil and strode through our midst, and we at once followed him to the reception hall. The troops presented arms, flags dipped, and the band played "Hail Columbia," the national anthem. Simultaneously the Powhatan hoisted the imperial Japanese flag, and the ships fired to it a salvo of twenty-one guns. Another followed immediately, seventeen in a salute to the flag of the imperial councilors.
The reception hall was the one used at Kanegawa but more festively decorated. The proceedings began as they begun [there], with everyone taking seats in the big room. A few pleasantries were exchanged. A second special area, a kind of alcove or conference room, had been added to the far end, with eight to ten seats for the commodore, the imperial councilors, the interpreters, and the rest of the chief participants. They went in there now, and curtains of violet-colored silk closed behind them. Refreshments came for those of us remaining outside: four or five kinds of fish and an array of dishes that defied description. I thought it funny to find among them, yes, minced radishes. The seasoning to be used at table, a small cup of soy sauce and another of a dressing similarly piquant, proved by their composition that gastronomy had not trailed the other elements of Japanese culture. A sort of soup of eel, served in small covered bowls, tasted superb to me. Cheese replaced bread, a sort of fresh cheese, sliced thin. Yet with all those dishes nothing to drink but tea until the desert of cakes and all sorts of sweet things and a first-rate in silver containers.
Japanese officials had made several visits to the ships, and I had gotten to know some of them. On such occasions they delighted in the custom of drinking one's health. Having to join them therefore in so many such toasts here, I must at last take recourse in a few cups of tea, just to keep my balance.
This meeting with the imperial councilors was very long. Some of us began to smoke with the Japanese. Others, I among them, took a stroll.
The breeze was gentle, the air warm, the oncoming crowd innocuous. At the commodore's explicit request the everlasting black-and-white striped canvas had not been set up as a barrier this time, and nothing kept me from a little excursion into the open fields. Only the highest mountain peaks retained signs of the aftermath of winter. Even the towering Fuijiyama had begun to show a few black specks on its snowcap. Several small units of Japanese soldiers — standards bright, weapons gleaming in the sun — added their brightly colored uniforms to the scene. They enlivened a landscape otherwise monotonous. I wandered about in the fields of greening wheat. Suddenly, just ahead, a lark took flight. Up, up it went, singing joyously. I stopped, I stood unaware that I had stopped, and I listened reverently to that little feathered singer's devout hymn. It spoke to my heart like a voice from home, of a friend I had not seen for a long while. Larks had sung the last time I rode through the meadows of home. I had been a wanderer about to depart then, and I cannot remember having heard the song again.
Nothing worth mentioning happened the rest of the day. After 4:00PM we all returned to the ships.
30 March 1854
A few days later [9 March] we had to bury in Japanese soil a marine off the Mississippi [Private Robert Williams], the first of our expedition to die here. The Mississippi's chaplain, [George] Jones, several officers, and a corporal's squad composed the funeral party. When we passed the gates of a village on our way to the graveyard, a Buddhist priest joined our procession, and as nobody objected, he assumed the place behind Dr. Jones. The graveyard lay near a small temple. The grave had been dug. Dr. Jones read the customary prayers. When he finished, the Buddhist asked, with much modesty, might he be permitted to conduct his ceremony? It would consist only of burning a few pieces of paper inscribed with prayers and offering a few sacrifices: tea, rice, etc. Quite a number of Japanese had assembled meanwhile. When the request was granted, the courtesy seemed to make on them a very good impression. Let us hope that a few more prayers, together with the priest's innocent and inoffensive obsequies, did no harm to the soul of the departed.
Official duties occupied me much thereafter, taking me daily into the countryside. Meanwhile our engineers [Chief Engineer Jesse Gay in charge, aided by his first assistant, Robert Danby, both of the Mississippi] and mechanics worked and worked to unpack and assemble our gifts to the emperor. The astonishment of the Japanese increased with the opening of each crate. Indeed, these American gifts to Japan were so beautiful they would have caused amazement and produced applause in any country in the world.
The Japanese marveled most at the railroad. Locomotive, tender, and passenger cars (built by Norris [Brothers, locomotive works] in Philadelphia, all of course at reduced scale), paneling in two varieties of rosewood, metalwork of superior craftsmanship — these features amounted to the most attractive example [of a railroad] that I had ever seen. The rails were laid in a circle about a mile in circumference.
One of our mechanics tested a high-pressure fire-fighting apparatus. What hilarity when the stream hit a crowd of gawking Japanese and knocked them into a heap! All sorts of agricultural machinery took shape. (American had rightly won first prize in this category at the London World's Fair [the Great Exposition of 1851].) The Japanese gaped at the metal lifeboat by Francis and the famous covered [and copper-clad] surfboat that can be pulled back and forth, between shore and the ship in distress, on a line fired by mortar from shore to the ship. The others included a number of well-known Colts (six-shooters), as well as beautiful examples of Hall's rifles (twenty-four-shot), manufactured articles of all kinds, cloth, and finally the most lovely editions of books by American authors (among them even a splendid Audubon, Birds of America, the renowned monument to natural science). In sum, these things constituted one of the most valuable gifts ever brought and presented by one nation to another. And, what enhanced the value much, the inventors and manufacturers with few exceptions contributed their products voluntarily and free of charge; the government had only to round them out with a few supplements. This can probably be called a unique, a pioneer act of generosity never duplicated.
Then, finally, the long-desired commercial treaty was agreed upon and on 24 [31] March solemnly and ceremoniously signed by the ministers plenipotentiary of the contractual powers.
On the twenty-sixth the commodore hosted the imperial councilors aboard our ships with their escort of some sixty other Japanese. These festivities ended in a most agreeable and a most joyful manner. While cannon thundered, we drank the health of the shogun (the present emperor). Our guests in turn, revealing a brilliant talent for our way of toasting, proposed the health of the President of the United States. Then, with equal enthusiasm, they offered and we all of us accepted, "Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes!" "Hurrah for Commodore Perry!"
From Chapter Sixteen: Departure from Japan (Page 159) [top]
Aboard the Mississippi
28 June
At noon on the seventh of this month we reentered the Bay of Shimoda — to find the town much livelier than during our first visit. For, in the meantime, the imperial councilors had returned from Edo and, as is the Japanese custom, brought with them an enormous retinue. It had taken up quarters in every part of the little town; each member had planted his colors as his door, and with these many flags and standards brightening everything, the place looked brisk and bustling.
Time-consuming negotiations followed, over weights and measures both sides could use, over the value of our money, over prices for wood, water, food, and so forth. Agreement must be reached — the results drawn up into a table — and it too time, because each day brought new difficulties. Everything ended happily, all problems solved, at last.
The commodore's final official meeting with the imperial councilors occurred on the fifteenth. We put ashore about three hundred men and four cannon; in glitter and pomp, everyone paraded to the meeting. A scene of rare drama unfolded in the beautiful setting of the pleasant town amid picturesque mountains. Vivid and memorable groups moved along the street from the waterfront to the place of the ceremony: Shimoda Dio-Rengo, the main temple.
The ceremony so resembled the prior one that I should not trouble you with the description again. I also confess I was fed up with Japanese treats and entertainments. So I left the temple for the open air as soon as possible and relieved the officer in charge of the cannon. He, far more than I, wanted to get at the delights that crowded those tables. To me, God's outdoors offered far more pleasure and comfort.
The cannon had been drawn up in the shade of a group of beautiful trees. Three-quarters of the people of Shimoda, including many lovely young women, attended to the band's cheerful music. In the monotony of the sailor's life, chances are slim for gallantry toward the fair sex; therefore I seized this one. I had brought sweets and fine pastries from the banquet; when I shared them, gifts came to me in return: flowers and fruit. When I tried to put the same flowers into a pretty one's hair — or in fun, toss the fruit to another — flowers and fruit rebounded to me with interest. Thus I spent the time laughing and joking and much more agreeably than indoors at one of the ceremony's unpleasant tables. When at last the drums called us back to station at the guns, I had enough problems rounding up my artillerymen. For they, too, had seized the chance to impress the ladies. Needless to say, despite the high jinks, nothing exceeded the limits of decency and decorum.
To conclude, we staged miniature maneuvers. The speed and precision of our artillery fire, and of our infantry exercises, evoked from the Japanese the maximum of admiration and applause.
A few days later the commodore repaid his Japanese hosts with a farewell banquet aboard the Mississippi. She had been restored as flagship to the commodore eight days before, and I, therefore reassigned, had spent them aboard her. Our Japanese friends expressed their heartfelt regret to see us leave.
We had buried a marine and a sailor in Korsaki, and the commodore now sent me ashore one last time, on the twenty-fourth, to make a drawing of the graves. The sailor had slipped from the mainyard of the Powhatan and died of the fall. We lay in the Bay of Edo when brain fever claimed the marine. He, as I have mentioned, went to a temporary grave in Yokohama until the signing of the treaty. Then two sergeants, sent back on a Japanese junk, exhumed his body, put it into another coffin, brought it back to Shimoda, and reinterred it for good. As instructed I took along two of his messmates. We found the grave marked with a gray limestone of uncommonly neat workmanship. Graves and surroundings — a cemetery under beautiful trees — created a pleasant impression but also dignified.
The same day, in the afternoon, we sailed to the edge of the roads and anchored again. There our Japanese friends paid the last visit. They brought many of us little gifts as mementoes. I do not recall whether I have mentioned the cordiality between me and Gohara Isabura, the prefect's lieutenant, a likeable, well-educated man, not yet thirty years old. He spoke Dutch with considerable fluency, and diligent study had advanced him notably in English. He had shown me much kindness and done me many favors. Now, in some measure of return, I gave him my big Streit atlas, which he prized. I also gave him a Dutch-English dictionary and with it a little poem in German and an English translation of it.
When your eye, dear friend, shall rove about these pages,
Where all the Earth is plain to one quick glance,
And your thoughts flash across oceans far and wide,
To the other peoples of this grand and spacious world
Then think in friendship of him who gave this gift,
Who came without notice, stayed a while, and disappeared!
As the chain's each link clasps the other,
So my people take yours by the hand.
Think of me, therefore, as I here take leave of you,
And may your Godspeed be mine when now I sail away.
When Gohara said good-bye, he brought me gifts in return: a handsome, opulent tobacco pipe with companion pouch and a tea canister artistically crafted and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. He too had written a poem and accompanied the Japanese verses with a Dutch translation. They would sound odd were I to transcribe them literally, so I shall try in some degree to suggest their poetry thus:
When through the crowns of pines the evening breezes rustle,
And from your golden pipe curl little clouds of blue,
Then take in hand a few of these green leaves
And brew in the pot a drink of spicy good taste.
One sip shall set your mind at ease,
But call your man, that he had you a second, forthwith;
How fine it tastes upon the tongue, how it ennobles the heart,
What peace of mind it brings!
O tasty leaf that yields so much refreshment,
Let me be remembered as the one who gave these gifts!—Gohara Isabura, to W. Heine, Farewell
The handsome gifts and the little poem's happy sentiment so pleasantly surprised me that I cannot help mentioning the incident.
On the twenty-fifth a stiff sou'wester bounced us around on our exposed anchorage. We must be patient and await fair skies, however, for the commodore still wanted to take soundings among the islands. Good weather arrived on the twenty-sixth. At dawn on the twenty-seventh we said goodbye to the shores of Japan, long in ill repute as inhospitable.
Thus our expedition must be considered finished. I cannot refrain from a brief statement by way of summing up. Why did we come? To what extent did we get what we wanted?
The United States sent a naval expedition to Japan to ensure that in the event of mishap American ships would receive aid and protection on those treacherous coasts; furthermore, that American ships in need of essentials could get water, wood, coal, and provisions; and that if possible, at least one port [in the North Pacific] be secured between California and China, where the United States could erect a coaling station. Commodore Perry, one of the most distinguished officers ever to serve in the American navy, led the awe-inspiring armada to what had been one of the least accessible nations on earth. He presented his credentials to the emperor [through the emperor's representatives], together with a letter from the president; he compelled negotiations by virtue of a steadfast determination and a sober rationality simultaneously applied; and he achieved more than we had thought possible — without resorting to force. Our shipwrecked mariners would get aid and protection now, regardless where they were wrecked in the Japanese empire. The ports of Shimoda, Hakodate, Naha, and a fourth (we could take up to a year to choose it) were open to American ships. Japanese pilots would guide them to a secure anchorage for a reasonable fee. Wood, water, food of all kinds, and enough coal would be provided in exchange for cash or goods. And Americans were to be allowed anywhere inside a ten-nautical-mile radius of the four cities. We also had buried our dead with Christian rites, while Buddhist priests mingled their prayers with ours. An American railroad, telegraph, and other machines had been put into operation on Japanese soil and aroused admiration and applause; and a law, at this moment being drafted by the imperial council, shall permit Americans to instruct the Japanese in the application and use of these practical contrivances. Japanese gifts in return loaded one of our storeships; it could barely hold them all. And the Japanese have promptly sent respectful letters in answer to the letter from the President of the United States.
I have nothing to add to the bare facts; they speak for themselves. I need not raise my poor voice in praise of Commodore Perry; he has himself inscribed his name in history, in golden letters. I paid him the affection and respect due my commanding officer. And now I stand in awe. He compels my admiration.