Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan (12 page)

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Valignano’s work had not been in vain; the Jesuits had reaped rich dividends and, by the time that Adams and his men stepped ashore, they had made upwards of 150,000 converts. Their influence was felt in the highest levels of courtly society and they were granted frequent audiences at court. They also maintained good relations with the feudal nobility and town governors, while their padres—who were posted throughout Japan—kept their superiors in Nagasaki informed of matters of local concern.
It was not long before news reached Nagasaki that a strange, sea-battered ship had been washed up in Kyushu. Two fathers of the Church had first sighted her when she was still far out to sea and had been surprised to see such a large ship making her way toward Bungo. “It was not the monsoon for ships to come from China,” wrote Diogo do Couto in his account of the vessel’s arrival. The monks concluded that she was a Spanish vessel sailing from the Philippines and that “through some storm, [she] had been driven out of her course.”
Assuming that the crew were fellow Catholics and in danger of being cast away by the rough seas, they had pleaded with the local lord to help the mariners ashore and had even gone “with some boats to assist her.” They had been appalled to discover that the vessel belonged to the Dutch—a nation of heretic Protestants—and had rowed straight back to shore in order to send an urgent message to the Portuguese settlement at Nagasaki. The arrival of heretics was the worst possible development; it was imperative that they should be silenced—killed—immediately.
The Jesuits had good reason for wanting the
Liefde
’s crew slaughtered and an even more pressing desire for the executions to be carried out as quickly as possible. These enemies of Catholicism were carrying a theological tinderbox that threatened to undermine everything that Valignano had achieved. For the Jesuits had always presented the Church as united in faith and doctrine, with the Pope as its universal head. They had never revealed to the Japanese that Christendom in Western Europe had been riven in two by the emergence of Protestantism.
The monks’ unwelcome news was delivered directly to the Santa Casa da Misericordia, where it was greeted with consternation by the Jesuit fathers. They informed the local Japanese authorities that the arrival of an unauthorized ship was a grave matter and began scheming for the destruction of both the vessel and her crew. “The ship,” they told one lord, “was one of Lutheran corsairs, enemies of the Portuguese and all Christians.”
The Japanese took their warning very seriously—especially Lord Terasawa, “the governor-general of those realms,” who “hastened to the kingdom of Bungo … and laid hold of the Hollanders and their goods.” He was bewildered by the assortment of cheap cloths and trinkets aboard the
Liefde
, which were quite unlike the silks and rarities that the Portuguese were accustomed to bring from China. The ship was carrying eleven great chests of coarse woollen cloth and a box containing 400 branches of coral. There was a trunkful of amber and some parcels of scarlet material, as well as “a great chest of glass beads of divers colours, some mirrors and spectacles, many children’s pipes [and] two thousand cruzados.” More surprising was the “great quantity of nails, iron, hammers, scythes and mattocks … with which it would seem they were coming to conquer and inhabit.” But by far the most alarming item of cargo was the weaponry. The vessel was laden with guns and armor, including 19 large bronze cannon, 500 muskets, 5,000 cannonballs, 300 chain-shot, three chests filled with coats of mail, and 355 arrowheads. Such hardware reinforced the
impression that the ship’s crew were in fact warriors, while their disheveled appearance confirmed, in the governor’s mind, that they were not honest traders. “Nor did they come well dressed, and splendid with the pomp of servants and attendants, as the other merchants were accustomed to come, but only as soldiers and sailors.” It took little persuasion on the part of the Portuguese to assure the governor that they were “people not of good title.”
Lord Terasawa wanted to know more about their voyage and the purpose of their mission, and asked the Jesuit monks to interpret for him. Adams was chosen as the ship’s spokesman and acquitted himself well, explaining how he and his men had come to arrive in Japan. One of the Portuguese accounts displays a grudging respect for Adams, stating that he was “a good cosmographer and with some knowledge of astrology.” A second account is less charitable. It reports that Adams “gave no satisfactory account whatever” of the voyage and implies that their lengthy crossing of the Pacific was a result of poor seamanship: “They disembarked all so enfeebled that they looked like dead men.”
Adams was concerned that the Jesuits were manipulating his words. He called these interpreters “our deadly ennemies” and said that their report “caused the governours and common people to thinke evill of us in such manner that we looked always when we should be set upon crosses, which is the execution in this land for theevery and other crimes.” He was even more troubled to learn that the Jesuits were describing his men as
wako,
or pirates. Such an accusation was certain to awaken the wrath of the Japanese authorities, for many of Bungo’s merchants had suffered at the hands of pirates. Indeed, piracy was a terrible crime in Japan and was punished with even greater severity than in England. In London, Adams must have been accustomed to seeing buccaneers hanged on the waterside gallows at Wapping. In Japan, the customary punishment was crucifixion, which ensured a slow and painful death. The victim was strapped to the cross before being slowly speared to death, and it was said that the most expert
torturers could insert sixteen spears in a body without piercing a single organ. “They use a sort of iron manacles,” observed the Florentine adventurer Francesco Carletti, “which are fixed to the wood of the cross and then wound round the wrists, the neck and the legs.” Once the victim was securely fastened, the cross was raised and the executioner ordered to commence his delicate work. “He pierces the sufferer’s body with a spear, thrusting it into the right side upwards … and out above the left shoulder, thus passing through the whole body.” This was repeated on the other side of the body, so that the spears crossed internally. Sometimes, so many spears were employed that the condemned man looked like a giant hedgehog.
The
Liefde
’s crew were by now seriously alarmed at the way in which their words were being manipulated by the Jesuits. “Thus daily,” wrote Adams, “more and more, the Portugalls incensed the justices and people against us.” To these desperate survivors, stranded on the shores of a strange and potentially hostile land, these were frightening times. The fear began to prey on their minds, troubling their sleep and filling them with dread. Eventually, two of the company broke under the pressure. Gisbert de Coning and Jan Abelszoon van Oudewater hatched a plot to defect to the Jesuits and save their own skins by betraying their comrades. Coning slipped unnoticed out of the house, made contact with the Jesuits,”and gave himselfe out to be marchant of all the goods in the shippe.” Oudewater soon followed suit. “These traitours sought all manner of ways to get the goods into their hands,” wrote Adams,”and made knowne unto them [the Jesuits] all things that had passed in our voyage.” But although these turncoats had placed their erstwhile companions in even graver danger, Lord Terasawa hesitated from issuing the order to have the
Liefde
’s crew executed. The ship’s arrival was so strange and her cargo so unorthodox that he felt it necessary to take advice from a higher authority. A message was sent to the court in Osaka, asking for advice on how to deal with these unexpected arrivals.
from C. R. Boxer, A True Description of the Mighty Kingdoms of Japan and Siam, 1953
.
Japanese crucifixions ensured a slow and painful death. The victim was strapped to a cross, and spears were inserted with great care to ensure that internal organs remained undamaged.
An answer was received almost immediately. “Nine days after our arrival,” wrote Adams, “the great king of the land sent for me to come unto him.” Five galleys were dispatched from Osaka, “to bring me to the court where his Highnes was.” Adams had no idea as to the identity of this “Highnes,” nor did he know how long it would take to reach Osaka, but he was aware that his voyage would decide his fate and that of his men.
Osaka was an impressive city. It was huge—as big as if not bigger than London—and was divided by a river “as wide as the Thames.” But unlike London, which had only one ancient bridge to serve its inhabitants, Osaka had dozens, “all of them richly ornamented with carved work” and decorated with beaten copper. One Englishman who later passed through the city after a tremendous siege noted that “in the whole course of my life, I never saw anything equal to the ruins of these bridges.” But the real draw of
Osaka was its rambling, elegant castle, whose scale and elegance far surpassed the Tower of London. It was one of the marvels of Japan, a building of such immensity that all who saw it were impressed. It had a mass of “bulwarks and battlements, with loopholes for small shot and arrowes, and divers passages for to cast stones upon the assailants.” It was held to be impregnable, for the walls were almost impossible to scale. A massive drawbridge led into the interior.
The castle’s monumental exterior walls had been built for military strength. Once inside, visitors found themselves in an enchanted world of follies and pleasure gardens, ornamental ponds and miniature waterfalls. When the Jesuit padre Luis Frois had been invited here some years earlier, he had been astonished to discover that there were entire landscapes in miniature within the walls, “wherein the four seasons of the year are reproduced with its unhewn rocks, trees, shrubs, greenery and many other natural things.” Vast sums of money had been spent on creating exquisite gardens whose rambling paths and crooked trees were a world away from the formal landscapes so beloved by the Elizabethan gentry. “[The Japanese] take much delight and pleasure in lonely and nostalgic spots,” wrote the Jesuit João Rodrigues, “[such as] woods with shady groves, cliffs and rocky places, solitary birds … and in every kind of solitary thing.” Osaka Castle had little follies, ornamental tea pavilions, and “sumptuous and lovely
zashiki
[parlors] decorated with gold, which look down on the many green fields and pleasant rivers below.”
Padre Luis Frois had been even more astonished when he came to view the interior of the castle. One room sparkled with gold, another with silver, while many of the chambers were bedecked with silks and damasks. “And although it is not customary to sleep either in beds or on couches in Japan, we saw two furnished beds decorated with gold and all the rich trappings which are to be found on luxurious beds in Europe.” Japanese nobles lavished fortunes upon the decoration of their palaces, which were a
curious mixture of the opulent and the spartan. There was very little furniture, yet doors and framework glittered with gold leaf, while walls were lined with handmade paper decorated with trees, springs, birds, and lakes. There were depictions of leafless trees in winter snowscapes, clusters of juicy fruits hinted at autumn, and brightly colored blossoms suggested spring.
from Arnoldus Montanus’s Atlas Japannensis, 1670
.
Osaka Castle was one of the marvels of Japan. Its battlements were built for military strength but once inside, visitors found themselves in an enchanted pleasure garden.
Adams was led deep inside Osaka Castle until he reached the audience chamber—“a wonderfull costly house,” he later recalled, “[and] gilded with gold in abundance.” The sliding doors were opened, the guards dropped to the floor in obeisance, and William Adams of Limehouse found himself face to face with an enormously plump man with long eyelashes and a wispy beard. His name was Tokugawa Ieyasu.
BOOK: Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan
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