Commodore Perry's Minstrel Show (15 page)

“I confess I am still at a loss,” he told Lord Abe. “I have read what you copied from the foreign book and I know you see within it some good idea, but after watching these men I can't imagine what that good idea could be. They are curious to look at, that's for sure, but they are also as innocent and as powerless as the palanquin bearers who brought me here tonight. The American Commodore won't give a damn for the loss of them, I know that as well as I know my own name.”

“Listen,” said Lord Abe, “according to both the American constitution and that loud-mouthed Commodore the rights of low born men are equal to the rights of lords. It may sound absurd to you, but rather than repeatedly looking at them, why not take a moment to try to grasp the idea?
Low born men with the rights of lords
. Now put that together with what those paragraphs I copied advocate. Doesn't it exercise your mind?”

It did not, and Lord Tokugawa said so. “Perry won't care what happens to them,” he reiterated. “He brought them along as an entertainment. I'll venture he might even make us a gift of them if we asked him nicely.”

Despite himself he bent to take another look through the nearest spy hole, and thought what a fine gift they would be. One of the Americans had broken a chopstick in half, and was dancing around with it protruding from his nose.

“Tell me clearly then, what can be done with these men that would confound a treaty which is already signed?” he asked. “In wanting to rid our country of these foreigners we are all allies.”

“That's true,” said Lord Abe, “but what does it mean to say such a thing? Since Perry's first visit last autumn, when America made its initial thuggish demands for trade, have we prepared ourselves in even the simplest ways? No, we have not. We've done nothing but sit on our thumbs, lost in rhetoric and worry, everyone wanting to hear the sound of his own voice lamenting things.”

Lord Abe bent to look at the two men again, too, trying to forget that it was he who had led the Great Council to its indecision, but Lord Tokugawa only sighed.

“Yes, yes, I know that is true,” he said, “and I understand how frustrating it has been for you. But I still don't see what you are going to do with them now, after the fact of the treaty signing. I've grown slow in my old age, I admit it, sir, but answer me that, as clearly as you can. Is there something I have missed?”

Manjiro listened with his head bowed. To hear the two leaders speak like this, directly, equally, without the crippling corset of form, was something he had never in his life encountered, and he wished with all his heart that his beloved brother, Einosuke, could be there to witness it beside him. But this did not sound like the same Lord Abe he had heard earlier, the Lord Abe who had said “gangling oddity” about the American officer on shipboard. Then he had seemed strong while now he seemed to be grasping at straws.

“Listen,” said Lord Abe, “have you ever been to the Barbarian Book Library? Have you ever read a single foreign volume anywhere, a single translation from a language other than from Chinese?”

Lord Tokugawa answered peevishly. “You know very well I've read Dutch shipbuilding manuals! The Great Council might have sat on its thumbs, but whose idea was it to build a fleet of warships last summer? Who suggested maybe even buying an entire fleet from the Dutch?”

“All right, so you've read a few manuals,” Lord Abe allowed, “but what I'm asking now is something entirely new. You have read manuals but have you read thought? Other than the copy which you somehow managed to get your hands on yesterday, have you ever read a word about what these people say they believe?”

Instead of answering quickly, Lord Tokugawa poured himself more saké and drank it down. He didn't like intellectuals and he didn't like Lord Abe, he remembered that now. If there were shipbuilding manuals to read then fine, but he would not be drawn into Western philosophy.

“I don't mean to be insulting,” said Lord Abe, bowing into the silence that had transpired, “but please, if not to investigate this thing I have started, what are you doing here this evening, why have you bothered to call me out?”

He spoke calmly, but lest Lord Tokugawa answer him again with silence, he turned and posed a question to Manjiro. “You, young interpreter, you've been to this foreign library, have you not? Isn't that where you learned the barbarian tongue?”

“It is not, sir, but I have been there,” said Manjiro.

“And have you read all the books? There are only forty or so.”

Manjiro said he had read a few, but otherwise had only browsed.

“Well if that's the case then I have read more than you,” Lord Abe told him. “For I have not only read the book everyone's so bothered about tonight, but every other book, as well. Have you read the American constitution? It's there, you know.”

Manjiro said he hadn't.

Shifting his glance back to Lord Tokugawa, Lord Abe said, “Then I wish I had copied that, too. I can't quote from it, but it says in part the same thing that Perry is always lecturing us about, that however insignificant his station, no matter whether he is landed or even whether he has a surname, each man has the same basic rights as any other. It says so in their constitution, sir, how can I emphasize that point strongly enough? Can't you grasp how such a belief might cripple a country?”

“My tutor sometimes called it ‘the experiment of America,'” said Manjiro.

He froze after he spoke, surprised and ashamed of himself. What had propelled him to add his voice, and what had propelled him to mention his tutor? It was true that he and his tutor used to spend time discussing such things, but to draw attention to it during these capricious days. This was as big a mistake as showing Lord Tokugawa the paragraphs in the first place.

But Lord Abe only said, “Hmm. ‘The experiment of America,' what an interesting phrase. The Americans love this idea and push it everywhere they go. I think they are zealots who want to preach, to convince others of the worth of their beliefs, even more than they want trade. It is like the time of the missionaries all over again, but instead of Jesus Christ, the devil in the middle of everything is ‘American Democracy'!”

The others were beginning to see the workings of Lord Abe's mind and, as if instructed to, all bent back down to take another look through the spy holes. The minstrels had moved from their table. The one with the chopsticks in his nose was dancing around the apprentice geisha, all of whom were laughing and covering their mouths.

Lord Tokugawa sat back up and frowned. “All right,” he said, “let me see if I understand you correctly. The Americans hold one ridiculous idea and this philosopher you've discovered holds another. The American idea, which you have just now outlined, is ridiculous because it's obvious beyond measure that men are not equal—all men, oddly enough, should be able to see that equally well—and the other idea is ridiculous since, precisely because of this inequality, a ruler has an obligation to look out for the welfare of his peasants and such. And you intend for these ideas to come into contact with each other and somehow explode. Am I right so far?”

“Yes,” said Lord Abe, “but to argue the validity of the ideas is nowhere near the point I am trying to make…”

For a moment he seemed about to say more, but instead turned to Manjiro again. “Young man, do you understand what I am coming to? You have read some of those books at least, and you have been in the American presence nearly as much as I, so perhaps you can examine our discussion with a neutral mind.”

Manjiro knew he had brought this on himself, that had he not spoken once he would not be obliged to do so again, but he answered calmly. “I think the Americans are sincere in their ideas,” he said, “but even so I believe Lord Abe is now conducting an experiment of his own which is in two parts. The first consisted of observing Perry's reaction when he invited such low-born men ashore. If he saw that Commodore Perry was insulted by the invitation he would understand that all this talk of equality among men was hollow. But if he was not insulted, as indeed, he wasn't, then Lord Abe thought he might discover some new leverage with which to negotiate.”

“Yes,” said Lord Tokugawa, “but what leverage? And how can we use it against them at this late date? The treaty is signed!”

To Manjiro's relief Lord Abe held up a hand, stopping his reply. He pointed at Ueno, his stark-faced aide. “What if we have to arrest these men while they are here?” asked Ueno.

Lord Tokugawa scoffed, “These are singers we're talking about, street musicians of the simplest kind, like chin-don-ya.
Chin chin chin, bong bong bong
. All they do is make noise. Men aren't necessarily criminals, you know, just because they are low-born.”

“Of course not,” said Lord Abe, “but put aside the improbability for a minute. What if they did commit a crime?”

“Then we would inform Commodore Perry and go on from there,” said Keiki, irked that someone like Ueno had spoken before him. “And once confronted with the evidence he would agree to some apt punishment. It isn't a difficult problem. There is no conflict where there is evidence and there is law.”

“What if we had no evidence?” Lord Abe wanted to know.

“Please,” said Lord Tokugawa. “What if, what if… How about this? What if we enclosed them in pickle jars? What if we kill them right now and say that they grew lonely for America and thrust those broken chopsticks all the way up their noses and into their brains?”

“Then we would have nothing to bargain with,” said Ueno, “no living commoners, no pawns.”

Lord Tokugawa looked at his son and then, briefly, down into one of the spy holes again. When he sat back up he said, “I want to thank you for your explanation, but I think I need to go home now. It's no doubt the inflexibility of my mind that keeps me from understanding all of this. Perhaps if I sleep on it my brain will adjust.”

“Wait, Father,” said Keiki, “I think there's something moving in the center of this fog.”

The remark was unexpected, and at its heart so rude that Lord Tokugawa, who was halfway to his feet, sat back down. He had been worried about Keiki of late, about his son's ability to stand up to the real rulers of the world, men such as Lord Abe, and he didn't want to miss a chance to hear him argue.

Keiki was glaring at Ueno, but the aide simply said, “What do you mean by fog?”

“By ‘fog,' I mean ‘fog.'” said Keiki. “As a word it's clear, it is only as a thing that it is not.”

He thought that was cleverly phrased but Ueno only put his hands on the table, lightly touching his fingertips together. “How would you like me to be clear?” he asked.

Because Keiki believed that the only thing clear thus far was the stupefying fact that Lord Abe had no idea what he would do with the musicians he had invited, he was surprised at the ease with which Ueno fell into the trap he had set. But at the same time he was disappointed. It was rare that he got to argue in front of his father and he found himself wanting more of a challenge.

“We all know why Lord Abe extended his invitation,” he said. “He did so because he wanted to discover how the American Commodore would react. But the clarity I want is both simpler and more difficult. Since they are not about to commit a crime, what do you propose to do now?”

Ueno's thin lips moved up but his eyes weren't smiling. “I have the words but I fear you're unready to hear them,” he said.

Keiki barked out a laugh. “I know I look unready for many things,” he said, “but if I look unready for words I've got to do something about my appearance.”

“Very well,” said Ueno, “what if the crime they are not about to commit were high? A crime with an element of surprising heinousness to it?”

Keiki took a drink from his saké cup. His father peered at him avidly, with the bright eyes of a hunting falcon, while Manjiro kept his own eyes closed, his mind awash with the sense of coming trouble.

“Whether high or low, whether heinous or trivial, without evidence Commodore Perry would discount it,” said Keiki.

“Of course he would!” shouted Lord Tokugawa. “What are you talking about?”

“If the crime were high,” Ueno continued, “if the crime were serious enough, then forget about the American Commodore. If the crime were high our own laws,
Japanese laws
, would dictate that the perpetrators be killed or put in jail for a very long time.”

Keiki laughed again though he didn't want to. “So that's your plan? To simply make up some crime, imprison them, and then tell the Americans an outright lie?”

“Why not?” asked Lord Abe, looking straight at Lord Tokugawa. “If we did that, if we were arbitrary, even capricious and clumsy in our accusations, then our very bumbling would trigger Perry's desire to get them back. He would deal with a real crime fairly, you are right about that, but if he believed the charges were unfair, then his inborn sense of that unfairness will override everything else. The American idea oí equality, don't you see, provides for no other outcome.”

The room was so still that they could hear the faint sounds of singing from the room below. Lord Tokugawa's mouth was open, while Manjiro's mind was awash with a terrible guilt. He had brought this on himself! He was to blame for everything and must do something to make it right. But what?

“This is so shameful!” whispered Keiki. “These men will have done nothing, but you are suggesting that we, Japan's rulers, accuse them anyway? We will have broken the laws of behavior, violated the Bushido… We won't have acted like lords.”

That was the crux of the matter for Manjiro, too, for beyond all of his ambition, beyond, even, his growing love for Tsune, he had a deeply held belief in Japanese honor and could never be a party to such a plan. But Lord Abe simply said, “Come now, the Bushido isn't sullied by such an action because the Bushido doesn't come into play with foreigners. And this idea doesn't come from us anyway, but from those portentous paragraphs that some barbarian thinker wrote three hundred years ago. That's the beauty of it, don't you see? We'll poison them with their own ideas, drown them in water from their own murky well.”