AT DAWN THE AMERICANS were amazed to see a boatload of artists near the Susquehanna. Using fine brushes, ink stones, and rolls of rice paper, they were making sketches of the ships and any of the crew they could see. Their curiosity was obviously stronger than their fear. Within a week, pictures of the Black Ships and “hairy barbarians” were hawked in the streets and sold in shops. They were also reproduced on souvenir banners, scrolls, fans, and towels.
Another Japanese view of Commodore Perry
courtesy of Asahi Shimbun and Kanagawa Prefecture Museum
While these artist-reporters were acting like war correspondents, the coastline was bustling with activity. Women and children carrying baskets of dirt helped men build new fortifications. Thousands of soldiers marched to and fro while their leaders decided upon strategic battle positions. They displayed colorful banners emblazoned with their lords’ arms. Some trained muskets on Perry’s squadron. Strips of canvas had been set up along the coast to hide these activities, but the Americans could see over them. The sailors were amused and dubbed the canvases “dungaree forts.”
The Japanese artist entitled this picture Portrait of a High Official of the North American Republic.
reproduced from the collections of the Library of Congress
At seven o’clock in the morning, Kayama, so-called “governor” of Uraga, was welcomed aboard the Susquehanna. Actually he was not a governor but a police chief. Uraga’s real governor, who did not wish to meet barbarians, gave Kayama permission to take his place. Dressed for the occasion in an embroidered silk robe, a lacquered hat with padded chin straps, and clunky clogs, this little man looked comical and ill at ease, even when his Dutch interpreter introduced him as a person of great importance.
Commodore Perry would not see him. He secluded himself in his cabin again, for he rightly guessed that Kayama was not an eminent envoy of the Emperor. Because he remained hidden like a holy man, the Japanese soon spoke of Perry as “The American Mikado,” and called his quarters “The Abode of His High and Mighty Mysteriousness.”1
Commanders Franklin Buchanan and Henry Adams spoke with Kayama. The conversation was awkward because it had to be translated from English into Dutch and then into Japanese, and back again. Perry’s son Oliver acted as go-between. On board as his father’s secretary, he rushed to and fro with orders for Buchanan and Adams, and reports for his father.2
The Commodore’s son Oliver Perry; Commander Henry Adams.
courtesy of the Chrysler Museum
Kayama insisted that the Americans had to go to Nagasaki. He explained that Japanese law made it impossible for a letter to be received at any other port. Perry refused to budge and threatened to deliver the letter in person at the royal palace in Edo. Frightened at the thought, Kayama promised to contact the Emperor, then timidly asked why four ships were needed in order to carry one little letter to the Emperor. “Out of respect for him,” Perry retorted.3 (The Commodore had no way of knowing that the Shogun occupied the Edo palace, and that the Emperor was a powerless figurehead who lived in Kyoto surrounded by the Shogun’s spies.)
Kayama became even more alarmed when he noticed that small boats launched from the ships were cruising close to the mainland. He exclaimed that the Americans were violating Japanese law. The officers countered by saying that they were obeying American law. They had to survey coastal waters—a preparation in case Perry decided to land.
During the surveys one of the Americans looked at some Japanese soldiers through a telescope. The soldiers ducked, probably believing that the spyglass was a new type of gun.
Strange music came from the ships on Sunday, July 10. The crew sang hymns, accompanied by a band whose instruments were unheard of in Japan. A boatload of Japanese asked to visit, but they were refused admission because Sunday was the Christian day of rest.
On Monday morning surveying boats were sent farther than ever up Edo Bay. Kayama came aboard in a panic. The activities of the Americans had caused great distress in Edo, because the city’s principal food supply depended upon boat traffic. Fear of the foreigners prevented supply boats from sailing.
Despite Kayama’s pleas, the Americans continued to chart the coastal waters. Their survey boats came near enough to fortifications to observe that they were made of dirt and wood. There were a few cannons, but they were small and old. Most of them were 8-pounders, 200 or 300 years old, and they had not been used for a long time. The Japanese probably did not even know how to fire them. One of Perry’s crew quipped that he could load all the Japanese cannons into the American 64-pound cannons and shoot them back.
Surveying parties met Japanese guard boats on Monday, July 11, 1853. (At left, a Japanese coastal junk.)
reproduced from the collections of the Library of Congress
Soldiers loyal to two daimyos requested permission to shoot at the Americans. Fortunately, their lords decided to hold fire, thus preventing an incident that might have started a war.
Although officials were terribly alarmed, many ordinary citizens calmed down after the first day of shock. A few hailed the men in the surveying boats and offered them water and peaches. A Japanese guard boat welcomed some of the surveyors aboard. The Americans amused and fascinated their hosts by shooting Colt revolvers in the air.
The Americans were enchanted by the kindness and friendliness of the Japanese. At one time they believed that they had sailed over the edge of world civilization and would encounter savages. Face to face, they were beginning to realize that these charming people were as courteous and hospitable as any they had ever met. They were yet to discover that Japan was a highly civilized, cultured nation.
Early in the morning on Tuesday, July 12, Kayama went to the Americans and again asked them to go to Nagasaki. Through his intermediaries Perry stated that if the President’s letter was not answered soon he would “consider his country insulted and will not hold himself accountable for the consequences. He expects a reply of some sort in a few days, and he will receive such reply nowhere but in this neighborhood.”4
Kayama rushed back to Uraga to consult with officials, then returned that afternoon. He announced that a building would be erected on shore for a reception and a very important person would receive the letter.
Kayama and his companions then relaxed, especially after accepting drinks of whiskey and brandy. They became red-faced and merry, yet their manners remained elegant, their curiosity insatiable. Perry permitted them to tour the ship and examine its guns and engines.
Unlike the general population, Kayama’s interpreters knew something about Western science and world geography. Their knowledge of the Dutch and Chinese languages enabled them to learn facts about forbidden lands across the sea. They asked about roads that cut through mountains and about a railroad that was being built across the isthmus of Panama. When a globe was placed before them they immediately pointed to Washington and New York.
It was seven o’clock in the evening before the Japanese left the ship, bowing every step of the way. The Americans were impressed with their politeness, and noticed that when the Japanese were in their own boats en route to shore, they were as formal, elegant, and dignified with each other as they had been with the Americans. Proper etiquette was not “company manners” but typical behavior.
On Wednesday, July 13, Kayama came aboard to exhibit a document from the Emperor. It authorized important officials to meet with Perry. The royal message, wrapped in velvet and encased in a sandalwood box, was treated with such reverence that Kayama would not allow anyone to touch it. Instead, the Americans were given a translation. The document specified that His Highness Toda, “Prince of Izu,” and Ido, “Prince of Iwami,” were authorized to receive the President’s letter. These “princes” were actually the governors of Uraga.
Oriental duplicity? Not just Oriental! The Americans knew the art of bluffing, too. During the talks with Kayama they called Perry “admiral,” because the title was more impressive than that of commodore, which is a lower rank.5