Feudal Pacific

11

The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air after the battle of Rokukashi. The ground was stained crimson with the blood of fallen soldiers and samurai, and a deep sense of dread permeated the atmosphere. Japan had won the day, but now a door to a new world had been opened. American vessels had emerged from the distant east to challenge Japan's sovereignty, and we'd had no choice but to engage them. When the dust settled, Hamilton had vanished and Perry was in our custody. But America neither forgives nor forgets.

On the eleventh of February, 1854, the sun was beginning to set in Edo when a fleet of twenty battleships with black iron hulls and smoking chimneys, each carrying at least twenty massive cannons, appeared on the shore with almost 3500 men. At the head of the formidable force was Captain Hamilton himself, now an Admiral. A small boat was sent ashore with an emissary. The message he delivered was simple: return Perry and agree to the terms put forward by him the previous year, or the entire fleet would open fire and leave a hole in Japan the exact size of Edo.

They weren't totally without manners, though. Apparently when Hamilton had retreated back to America and told his superiors about Rokukashi, a point was made that perhaps they were too hasty in their demands; they almost started a full-scale war with the Pacific Empire, after all. So this time, as a show of good faith, they brought gifts—a tiny steam-powered train, a telegraph machine, various small guns, some agricultural tools, clocks, stoves, books, and a hundred gallons of whiskey. In return, Japan gave them furniture lacquered in gold, bronze ornaments and statuettes, silk, and porcelain. Having learned of Perry's hobby of collecting seashells, the Japanese also gathered a few hundred for him by way of apology.

Perry was brought out with all the respect Hamilton demanded for him. By then the old commodore's uniform had become tattered and stained, so now he wore a black cotton kimono.

The two sides spent three weeks in intense negotiations until finally, on the last day of March, the Treaty of Kanagawa was signed; this agreement brought to an end Japan's 220-year seclusion from the outside world and, among other things, opened the ports of Shimoda and Hakodate to American vessels.

Shōgun Tokugawa Hidetada, his face resolute and betraying no emotion, took the fountain pen from its stand and wrote his name on the treaty in neat kanji. He passed the pen to Yasuke and the other daimyō in attendance, each of them signing the document in turn. My name was added as well.

The emperor had not attended negotiations but had instead sent Fushimi as his representative, along with a letter of approval for opening the empire to international trade. But beneath the placid surface of Japanese society lurked a deep discord, with those loyal to the bakufu on one side, and those favoring imperial rule on the other—a rift that had been increasingly widening since contact with the "foreign barbarians."

The only signature the treaty still lacked was Lester Hamilton's, who had been given authority by the American government to tear up the treaty in front of all Japan if their demands weren't met. And there was one more demand: Aotearoa.

But what could the shōgun do? What could the emperor do? What could any of us do? So it was given, the entire han of Aotearoa, the north and south islands. With a heavy heart, I watched as the Americans hastily scrawled "New Zealand" on the treaty, unaware they'd misspelled it.

As with any great change comes conflict, and Japan saw no shortage of it in the following years. The news of the Treaty had spread quickly, and a debate began to rage throughout the whole empire. Some clung fiercely to the idea of sonnō jōi—the belief that Japan should be ruled by the emperor and stay true to its culture. Others were in favor of kaikoku—opening Japan to the outside world and embracing foreign ideas and technologies. Different han were divided on the issue, leaving the bafuku more fragile and weakened than ever before. Rumors of a coming civil conflict arose, and many daimyō were gathering their samurai into one place and increasing domain taxes in preparation for war.