The earliest historical relations between Mexico and Japan

THE EARLIEST HISTORICAL RELATIONS BETWEEN MEXICO AND JAPAN

(From Original Documents Preserved in Spain and Japan.)

BY

ZELIA NUTTALL.

PUBLISHED BY THE CROOKER FUND FOR RESEARCH IN MEXICO.

It is strange but true, that whereas for many years past much has been said and written about the hypothetical transmission of Asiatic influences to Mexico and Central America by means of the ship-wrecked crews of Japanese junks, the precise date when official relations were first established between Japan and Mexico has only just been ascertained.

It is Señor C. A. Lera, the actual Mexican Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to Japan and China, who deserves the credit of having instituted researches in archives and annals of Japan and succeeded in finding therein the documentary evidence which a countryman of his, Angel Nuñez Ortega, had vainly endeavored to find in the national archives of Mexico.

With the coöperation of Father Steichen, a learned missionary residing in Japan, who is known as the author of a History of Japanese Commerce, Señor Lera obtained translations of important original documents, and incorporated them in a report to the Mexican Minister of Foreign Affairs, which was privately printed in Tokio in pamphlet form a few months ago, under the title of “First Official Relations Between Japan and Spain With Respect to Mexico.”

On reading Señor Lera’s valuable contribution I found evidences that he was unacquainted with the scholarly monograph privately published in Mexico in 1879, by the distinguished scholar and diplomat, Señor Ortega, under the title “Historical Note on the Political and Commercial Relations Between Mexico and Japan in the XVIIth Century.” I found moreover that although Señor Lera refers to it, neither of the above writers had ever read that most valuable document, the detailed report of his embassy submitted to Viceroy Mendoza, by the first ambassador ever sent from New Spain to Japan. This is contained in Vol. VIII of that monumental work published in Madrid: Collection of unedited documents relating to the discovery and conquest and organization of ancient Spanish possessions in America and Oceania.

Finding myself deeply interested in the facts preserved in the above disconnected monographs, it occurred to me that I could not send to the San Francisco meeting of the Anthropological Association a more acceptable communication than a compilation of all three publications, with translations of the original documents contained therein. In preparing this I found it necessary, in order to fill certain gaps, to refer to a number of works on Japan, and also to incorporate certain data contained in a newspaper article recently published in the City of Mexico by the erudite Father V. de P. Andrade. I venture to believe that the data collectively presented here, for the first time in English, will be of interest and value, not only to historians and ethnologists, but also to the general public.

To them it will doubtless be a matter of surprise, as it was to me, to learn that it was no less a personage than Tokugawa Iyeyasu, surnamed “The Illustrious,” who, in 1598, took the first steps towards establishing official relations with Mexico. Iyeyasu is known to have inaugurated the policy of exclusion and isolation, which was perfected by his grandson, Iyemitsu, and to have organized the form of government which secured to Japan a peace of two hundred years.

At the time, however, when he conceived the desire to enter into direct communication with New Spain, he was at the beginning of his remarkable career. Only two years had passed since Taikun Hideyoshi had bestowed upon him, as a reward for his services as a general, the eight provinces, which were designated “The Kwanto,” and ordered him to take up his residence at the then unimportant town of Yedo, the present Tokio. Considering that since 1542, when the first Portuguese trading vessels visited Japan, the Portuguese had been enjoying the monopoly of a system of trade by barter, it was certainly a new departure for General Iyeyasu to attempt to establish direct communication between his new domain and Mexico. It was his idea that this result might be obtained if he could but induce the merchant vessels which plied between the Philippines and Mexico to touch at one of the ports of “The Kwanto.” With this object in view, he sought the advice and aid of the learned Franciscan friar, Geronimo de Jesús, who wrote for him a Spanish letter to the governor of the Philippines, in which, as an opening to future negotiations, Iyeyasu courteously invited the Spanish merchant vessels to seek shelter in any of the ports situated in his domain, if ever overtaken by the dangerous storms so prevalent in these regions. This letter, which was written in the same year in which the second expedition to Corea came to an end and a number of Coreans were brought from that country to Japan, was not sent when written, for the negotiations were suspended by the stirring events which culminated in the famous battle of Sekigakara, which, in 1600, established Iyeyasu’s supremacy in Japan. It was not until 1601 that Iyeyasu found leisure to revert to his plan, and sent Shinkiro, a wealthy merchant of the City of Sakai, as bearer of the above letter and some costly presents to the governor of the Philippines. The latter, deeply involved at that time in the war which Spain was carrying on in Cambodia against Siam, responded by saying that Iyeyasu’s proposal pleased him extremely, and that he would accept it as soon as he was free and able to do so. Meanwhile he begged him to accept certain gifts in return for those which he had received with much gratitude through the Japanese envoy Shinkiro.

In the month of May of the following year, a new governor, Don Pedro Bravo de Acuña, was appointed for the Philippines. In September of the same year Iyeyasu dispatched Shinkiro again with another letter, also written in Spanish by the Franciscan friar, Geronimo. The original draft of this interesting document, which is preserved in Japan, is in Japanese, from which language it was translated into French for Señor Lera, so that he, in turn, could translate it into Spanish, from which language I have made the following literal translation.

I venture to suggest that it would be an interesting experiment for some scholar to translate my version back into Japanese, and to compare his translation with the original document and verify the changes which must have been produced by its passing through the crucible of three European languages.

“Minamoto Iyeyasu of Japan, to his Lordship the Governor of Luzon:⁠—

“After a long voyage your envoy has arrived at last with your letter. He has spoken to me of the mode of government and the flourishing condition of your country, and, at the same time, delivered to me the five objects which you have deigned to send me as presents.

“Although I have never had the honor to see or listen to you, your amiable behavior makes me realize how all men are members of a single family; which reflection has moved me deeply.

“Nothing would satisfy my desires so much as to see merchant vessels establishing frequent communication between my country and New Spain. In formulating this wish, it was not only the interests of Japan which moved me, but also, in equal measure, your own advantage. Many of your people have assured me that it would be a considerable advantage to them to be able to count upon a port in the Kwanto as a shelter for their ships during tempests. They have also manifested to me the pleasure with which they would see Japanese vessels making voyages between the Kwanto and New Spain.

“I shall await your answer with eager anticipation.

“If you render me this service, I, in turn, will severely prohibit piracy even in the most remote islands of Japan, and, if you so desire, I will condemn all pirates to death. You, in turn, can execute all Japanese who in the Philippines violate your laws. If any of the merchants who with my authorization visit your country, prove to be rebellious to your authority, I will, upon being informed of their names, prohibit their embarking again.

“Although unworthy of you, deign to accept as a sign of friendship the Japanese suit of armor, which I send you.

“My ambassador will tell you all that I have failed to express in this letter.”

It is related that Iyeyasu’s assurances did not disarm the suspicions of the Spaniards, nor convince them that he would or could keep his promise. Indeed the Spaniards’ fear to send their galleons to Japan was not unfounded, for, but eight years previously in 1596, Hideyoshi, since surnamed the “Napoleon of Japan,” had confiscated without provocation the Spanish vessel named “San Felipe,” and a month before the date of Iyeyasu’s above letter another galleon, the “Espirito Santo,” almost incurred the same fate. It was sailing with contrary winds from Manila to New Spain, and touched the coast of Tosa in August, 1602. It was immediately attacked by the natives of this province, and its captain, Lope de Ulloa, had to resort to arms in order to defend it against its assailants. As soon as the news of this singularly inopportune episode reached Iyeyasu, in October, he hastened to write to the governor of the Philippines, protesting that what had occurred had been without his knowledge and consent. He laid stress upon the amicable relations then existing between both countries—adding that they might almost be regarded as an alliance. Refusing to admit that his subjects were in fault, he adroitly suggests that it was probably only the fear of a repetition of the “San Felipe” episode, which had caused the Spaniards to take alarm and precipitate their departure from the Japanese coast. He adds: “Henceforth, in case of any kind of accidents, let your people not hesitate to take refuge in the ports of my domain, for I have sent to all quarters severe orders relating to this matter. Through your merchants I have learned that the eight galleons which leave Luzon every year for New Spain desire to obtain a license permitting them to take refuge in the ports of my country. Full of compassion for these foreigners I have had eight licenses written and sealed. These will preserve them from the rapacity of the people, and thanks to them they will without fear be able not only to take refuge in the ports and islands, but also to land and penetrate into all villages and towns throughout Japan, without incurring the risk of being treated as spies, even should they devote themselves to studying the usages and customs of the land.”

While nothing could exceed the courtesy and good will expressed in this letter, it utterly failed to reassure the governor of the Philippines, who could but bear in mind several recent disastrous losses of Spanish galleons, laden with the much coveted riches from the Spanish possessions in Asia. But fifteen years had elapsed since Francis Drake had lain in wait at Cape St. Lucas for the galleon expected from the Philippines, and after robbing it of its treasures, abandoned its crew on the arid shores of the Peninsula of California. This disaster had produced a profound commotion throughout the Spanish colonies, and brought infinite trouble upon the viceroy of Mexico, who was obliged to send out a maritime expedition with orders to pursue and punish the English corsairs. The seizure of another galleon by a Japanese potentate had taken place but six years previously, and now, at the very time that Iyeyasu was offering hospitality to Spanish merchantmen, came the news of the real or imaginary danger incurred by the vessel which had taken refuge in a Japanese port. Considering that besides all this the memory of the persecution and martyrdom of Roman Catholic missionaries in 1597 was still fresh, it is not surprising that the Spanish governor took no notice of Iyeyasu’s overtures, and broke off negotiations.

In the native history of Japanese Commerce (Nihon Shogyoshi) and Kottenhamp’s “History of the Colonization of America,” this rupture and the subsequent failures to establish the desired commercial relations are attributed, no doubt justly, chiefly to the powerful merchant princes of Seville, who violently opposed any encroachment on their monopoly of Asiatic trade. Six years later, however, in 1608, the situation suddenly changed. A new governor, Don Rodrigo de Vivero, came to the Philippines, where, at that period, there existed a colony of about fifteen thousand Japanese. The principal Japanese merchants residing in Manila petitioned him to resume the interrupted negotiations, and an ambassador sent by Iyeyasu insisted, at the same time, upon the advantages that would accrue to Spanish interests by a friendly treaty with Japan.

Iyeyasu’s ambassador, in this case, was the Englishman William Adams, a native of Gillingham, Kent, who shares, with his companion Timothy Shotten, the distinction of being the first Englishmen who went to Japan. Both served as pilots on a Dutch ship, the “De Liefde,” which had sailed from Texel at the mouth of the Zuyder Zee in 1598 with four other vessels and was wrecked at Bunzo, in Japan, on April 19, 1600. Adams ingratiated himself with the Japanese, volunteered to instruct them in the art of ship-building, and won the Emperor’s notice by offering to teach him geography and geometry. Received at court, he rapidly rose in favor. The title “Hatamoto,” or Noble, was conferred upon him, and he became not only Iyeyasu’s influential adviser, but was employed, as in this case, as the emperor’s envoy in establishing commercial relations with foreign countries.

Won over by William Adams’ representations, backed by the petition presented by the Japanese residents of Manila, Governor Vivero agreed to renew negotiations at once, and commissioned the leaders of the Japanese colony to write two letters for him in their language. These and some gifts were entrusted to William Adams, who was likewise placed in command of the next Spanish vessel which was sent to Japan. In the first letter, addressed to Iyeyasu, the interruption of negotiations and its cause were wisely ignored, and great stress was laid upon “the amiable sympathy which from olden times had bound one nation to the other,” and assurances were given that “far from wishing to abandon it or allowing it to become lukewarm, it would be his aim diligently to tighten the bonds of their long friendship.” He states, immediately afterwards, that a number of turbulent characters having promoted sedition and made disturbance in the Japanese colony at Manila, he had adopted the course of sending them back to Japan. According to Father Steichen not less than two hundred Japanese were thus expelled from Manila. Governor Vivero adds that their troublesome behavior would certainly not prevent him from receiving any peaceful Japanese merchants who might come to the Philippines. With respect to such nothing had changed. He continues: That he was sending a vessel to Japan, and had given orders to William Adams to take shelter by preference in a port in the “Kwanto.” In case, however, that contrary winds should impede the vessel’s course, he had no objection to any other port being entered, now that the whole of Japan was under Iyeyasu’s Lordship. He did not doubt that his captain and his people would meet with a good reception, and he begged, at the same time, that the Catholic friars residing in Japan should be well treated. In the second letter, addressed to the shogun, Hidetada, Iyeyasu’s son, in whose favor the latter had resigned in 1605, Vivero announced the sending of a galleon, and states that he would be obliged if the shogun would send Japanese vessels, but not more than four a year, to the Philippines, and he requests that he view with benevolence the friars and priests who were living in Japan.

By the time that these letters reached their destination, eight years had elapsed since Iyeyasu had made his first attempt to open negotiations. Vivero, the enterprising and enlightened governor of the Philippines, henceforth became his ally, and, as we shall see, conducted the first Japanese embassy to Mexico.

The credit of having established amicable relations should be given to William Adams, whose influence over Iyeyasu finally opened to the Spaniards the Port of Uraga, the most commodious and flourishing port of Japan, situated in the Province of Sagami, a day’s journey from Yedo. An imperial decree, dated 1608, was posted at the entrance of this port, threatening severe penalties to all who might molest the merchantmen from Luzon.

The answers to Governor Vivero’s letters, which were soon sent, express Iyeyasu’s and his son’s pleasure at the realization of their desire.

With regard to the Japanese who had been forcibly expelled from Manila, Iyeyasu simply remarks:⁠—

“In your country the government and the people live in harmony, the inhabitants treat each other with good will and courtesy, and extend even to foreigners the same general benevolence. In Japan we also have just laws, and all are governed with equity. Consequently we have no thieves nor malefactors. Therefore, if the Japanese who are in the Philippines commit injustices, pray condemn them to death.”

In a letter dated October 2, 1608, Hidetada reiterates his father’s assurances that Spanish vessels might visit Japan without fear, and expressed the desire that future communications should be more frequent between both countries.

Perfect harmony having thus been established, friendship increased between the Japanese and Spaniards, and the galleon which navigated between Manila and Acapulco regularly touched at Uraga.

In the following year a change of governor took place in the Philippines, and Don Juan de Silva, the new governor, hastened to announce to Iyeyasu his arrival in Luzon, and his intention to continue to send vessels to Japan. He seized this opportunity, however, to inform the emperor that a number of Japanese residents in the Philippines were fomenting revolt and disturbing the peace. In answer to the latter complaint, Iyeyasu sent the governor a copy of the severe laws applied to criminals in Japan, directing him to apply these laws in punishing the seditious Japanese in the Philippines. He ends with the assurance that the friars in Japan were being treated with sympathy and good will. Considering that, in 1597, twenty-six Christians and foreign friars, among them a native of Mexico, San Felipe de Jesús, were crucified at Nagasaki, the imperial assurances that he viewed the friars with benevolence and good will must have been extremely welcome to Governor Vivero.

Three months subsequently, Hidedata, who vied with his father in liberality and affability, renewed the privilege granted to Spanish vessels to enter all Japanese ports indiscriminately, and sent their captains copies of an official permission, dated November 2, 1609, which reads as follows:⁠—

“The vessels sailing from Luzon to New Spain may freely enter all ports in Japan and take shelter therein in stormy weather.”

In this same year a strange combination of circumstances occurred, which afforded the Japanese rulers an unexpected opportunity not only of demonstrating their good will towards the Spaniards, but of giving a proof of their good faith and generosity. Don Rodrigo de Vivero, the retiring governor of the Philippines, sailed from Luzon for New Spain on the 25th of July, in a vessel named the “San Francisco,” escorted by two galleons. Overtaken by a storm, the “San Francisco” and one of the galleons were wrecked on the shores of Japan. As soon as the Japanese learned that the ship-wrecked crews were Spaniards, and that among them was the former friendly governor of the Philippines, they hastened to offer them shelter and food. Vivero dispatched two messengers to the Japanese court to inform the emperor and the shogun of his misfortunes. Whereupon they not only invited him and his companions to the capital, but with spontaneous liberality promised a restitution of all the merchandise, etc., which could be saved from both wrecks. Iyeyasu generously offered to part with one of the best vessels, which had been constructed for him by William Adams, and likewise to lend him four thousand ducats, with which to man and provision the ship, which was named “San Buenaventura.” Vivero was also loaded with presents for the King of Spain and Viceroy of Mexico, and was requested to exert his influence towards the sending of a Spanish ambassador to Japan.

It appears that Vivero took advantage of his sojourn in Japan to prejudice the Japanese rulers against the Portuguese, who had hitherto enjoyed the sole privilege of exporting gold from Japan. He likewise attempted to have this privilege transferred to the Spaniards.

An interesting fact connected with this visit, and to which I will revert, is that Iyeyasu requested that as many as fifty expert miners be sent to Japan from Mexico in order to teach the Japanese the most advantageous methods of working their gold mines, the principal one of which was situated in the Island of Sado.

Governor Vivero, having consented to take with him to New Spain a certain number of Japanese merchants, so that they might learn the way, and also study commercial conditions, stipulated that the price of the vessel ceded to him might be payable in Spanish merchandise.

On the first of August, 1610, after having enjoyed Japanese hospitality for over a year, Vivero and his countrymen embarked for New Spain with twenty-three Japanese merchants, who were under the leadership of two noblemen named Tanaka Shosake and Shuya Ryusai.

In Mexico City, where they arrived towards the end of the year, the Japanese were presented by Vivero to the viceroy, Don Luis de Velasco the Second, who received them well and stood sponsor at the baptism of at least one of the two Japanese noblemen, who returned to Japan bearing the Christian name Francisco and the viceroy’s family name, Velasco.

The singularly noble conduct of the Japanese towards the ship-wrecked sailors at a time when all nations accepted the principle of “jus littoris” could but make a particularly deep impression upon the viceroy, who in the year 1600, for instance, had granted a concession to the inhabitants of the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, which legally authorized them to appropriate all ship-wrecked goods. Moved by gratitude, or as Father Caro prefers to state, by his ardent desire for the aggrandizement of New Spain, the viceroy determined to exert a prerogative usually confined to sovereigns, and to send an ambassador to Japan, entrusted with a letter in which he expressed to the Japanese rulers his gratitude and appreciation of the great charity and liberality towards his ship-wrecked countrymen.

Mexican historians have differed as to the name of the ambassador appointed, but an original document preserved in the archives of the Indies proves, beyond a doubt, that it was General Sebastian Viscaino, who in this document is twice mentioned as being a son of the viceroy.⁠[1]

The memory of Don Sebastian Viscaino is intimately associated with California, for, in 1596, he was commissioned by the King of Spain to make a voyage of discovery to California, and, as is well known, sailed from the Port of Acapulco with three vessels and reached the Port of La Paz, where he established himself, built a church and dispatched a series of expeditions westward. This expedition ended somewhat disastrously on account of the discontent of the soldiers under his command, but in 1602 he was appointed Captain General of an expedition sent by order of Phillip III and fitted out by the Count of Monterey, viceroy of Mexico. During this voyage, which lasted nine months, the whole coast of Southern California was carefully surveyed. After reaching Cape Mendocino, they proceeded as far north as 45 degrees north latitude, but he was forced to return to Acapulco on account of illness and mortality amongst his men.

The account of his embassy to Japan, evidently written under his dictation by the secretary of the expedition, is divided into twelve chapters, and fills ninety-seven printed pages in the collection of unedited documents to which I have already referred. This document, which is full of interesting and valuable information concerning the avowed and secret aims of his mission, gives a detailed account of its history. It enables one clearly to recognize moreover the manifold causes and events which within a few years wrought so complete a change in Iyeyasu’s views, and which culminated in the banishment of foreigners, the extirpation of Christianity, and the complete isolation of Japan for centuries.

On the 22nd of March, 1611, Viscaino sailed in a vessel named the “San Francisco” from Vera Cruz, accompanied by the Japanese nobleman now known as Don Francisco de Velasco, twenty-two Japanese merchants, a commissary and six friars of the Franciscan order, a captain named Palacios and a crew of fifty-two.

Before launching into Viscaino’s report, of which I shall give a literal translation, excepting where abbreviations and commentaries are necessary, let us read the Japanese records of the foregoing events, which were indirectly communicated by the well-known scholar, Mr. Ernest Satow, to Señor Nuñez Ortega, in 1879. They demonstrate that in the 17th century, as now, the official records of Japan were written with a brevity and reticence which causes so many modern Japanese war dispatches to read more like our weather reports:⁠—

“The Sairan Igen of Arai Haku Seki (B. 1657, D. 1725) says: In the 15th year of Keycho (1600) a merchant vessel belonging to New Spain was driven by a storm on the east coast of Japan and considerably damaged. The government ordered that it should be repaired, and provisions having been supplied it was started to depart. In the summer of the 17th year (1612), an ambassador came from that country on a complimentary mission, to return thanks. Amongst the presents was a self-sounding bell (clock), and our manufacture of this article commenced from this date.”⁠[2]

The same annals preserve the following report, made to their government by the Japanese merchants on their return from New Spain:⁠—

“Some of our sailing merchants departed in company with this embassy. They (the merchants) returned in the following year, and stated that the country visited was populous and productive. They also reported that the foreigners had thanked them, saying: ‘Our countries are far apart and navigation is difficult. Pray do not come again.’”

It is, of course, evident that this blunt intimation that their presence was not desired in New Spain emanated from the same monopolists who had caused the rupture of negotiations in 1602, and who, later on, obtained a royal decree, limiting the traffic between Mexico and Japan to one galleon a year, and putting restrictions upon the value of the cargo it carried.

From Viscaino’s report we learn that the relations between the Japanese merchants and the Spanish crew of the “San Francisco” were decidedly strained. He relates that, at the beginning of the voyage, the Japanese gave trouble on account of their haughtiness and rudeness to the sailors—especially “concerning matters of the kitchen,” and by their high-handedness. The general put an end to this state of affairs by ordering that no Spaniard was to interfere with a Japanese, nor lay hands on him, nor give occasion for dispute, under penalty of death. The same threat was made to the Japanese, and they were enjoined to be civil, and to come to him whenever any difficulty presented itself, and to avoid all disputes and quarrels with the sailors. Viscaino likewise threatened that if any Japanese were insolent, he would have him hanged from the yardarm, and would report him to the Japanese emperor, of whom it was known that he did not like his vassals to be insolent—especially when they were being treated to such a good voyage. Whereupon, it is recorded, the Japanese were so filled with fear that they “restrained their pride and haughtiness, became more docile than lambs,” and gave no cause for complaint during the remainder of the voyage. Their leader was the first to set an example of changed behavior. Viscaino invited him to his table, considering it expedient, as he says, to please and satisfy him, in view of the fact that upon his report to the emperor would depend the manner of reception accorded to the Spaniards by his Imperial Majesty, and the dispatch with which permission would be obtained to set out from said Empire of Japan for the discovery of said islands of gold and silver, which constituted the principal aim of this expedition.

It is interesting to note that in the letters which General Viscaino sent by messengers to the emperor and his son, on his arrival in Japan after a voyage of eighty days, he emphasized how much respect and honor had been accorded to the Japanese merchants during the voyage, but refrained from all mention of the islands of gold and silver, which it was his main object to discover.

General Viscaino’s letter to Iyeyasu reads as follows:⁠—

“Most Serene Emperor of the kingdoms and provinces of Japan:⁠—

“Sebastian Viscaino, General and Ambassador of his Majesty the King of Spain, Phillip III, and also of the Marquis of Salinas, Viceroy of New Spain and the King’s Lieutenant, as well as the Friar, Peter Baptist, of the Order of St. Francis, make known unto your Majesty that, to-day, Saturday, the 10th of June, 1611, we have reached this Port of Uraga in a vessel in which we sailed from the Port of Acapulco, in New Spain, on the 22nd of March of this year. We have come to this kingdom directly for the sole purpose of bringing you the news that said Marquis received the embassy and presents which you sent through Friar Alonzo Munoz, and also to bring to this realm Josquendono and your other vassals who went last year with Don Rodrigo de Vivero to New Spain, as well as to return the money which by your order was lent to Don Vivero and the value of the ship ‘San Buenaventura,’ which said Marquis purchased in the name of my lord and king. It was not considered expedient to return here in said vessel for reasons of which Josquendono and the other Japanese will inform you. They will tell you at the same time how, during their voyage to and from New Spain, they were respected and honored and given presents on account of their being your servants and vassals. While the said Marquis could have sent them back by the Islands of Luzon, he did not do so, considering that voyage would be long and dangerous, not only on account of difficult navigation but because they, the money and the value of the ship which we are bringing to your Majesty, in the name of my lord and king, might have been endangered on account of the number of Dutch pirates, whose vessels are in the vicinity of the Islands, and who are going about robbing and in revolt against my lord and king.”

Viscaino closes his letter by humbly begging permission to go to court in order to “kiss the emperor’s hands,” and by an allusion to the existing relations of peace and good understanding which it is his mission to promote.

Notwithstanding these relations, the general found it necessary, before landing his Spanish crew, to confer with the governor of the port and the commander of the Japanese fleet of junks as to the best method of avoiding quarrels and disputes between the Spaniards and Japanese. He issued orders that, under penalty of death, no Spaniard was to draw his sword or any other arm against the Japanese—nor use violence against Japanese women, nor take anything from any one against his will.

A great number of Japanese visited the Spanish vessel, among them many noblemen. These were received with honors by Viscaino, who “offered them chairs and gave them sweets, which they soaked in sherry, which they liked extremely.”

He records complacently that the Japanese merchants and their leader, Josquendono, departed at once for the court of the emperor, in order to give him an account of their voyage, in which they expressed the excellent treatment they had received from the Spaniards. But since we know the nature of the official report of their voyage, made by some of these same merchants, who must also have harbored resentment at the threats employed by Viscaino on ship-board, we may be prompted to doubt whether all accounts were as favorable as that of Josquendono, who had been won over by Viscaino. An insight into an existing undercurrent of ill will towards the Spaniards is afforded by Viscaino’s remark, “that it was indeed well that they had come directly to Japan, for their arrival with the Japanese merchants contradicted the rumors which had been rife, and which had spread the belief that the Spaniards had deceived the emperor; that the money lent to Vivero would never be returned, and that the Japanese who went to New Spain were enslaved and made to serve the Spaniards.”

In a few days Viscaino received a gracious communication, signed by several court officials, informing him that the shogun, Hidedata, had received his letter with great pleasure, and granted him permission and all facilities to visit him immediately at his court. In the five junks placed at his disposal Viscaino at once embarked with an escort of thirty Spaniards, armed with muskets and arquebusses, and with the friars and a few of the Japanese whom he had brought from New Spain.

At the mouth of the river Yedo he was met by the commander of the junks, who made great demonstrations of joy and offered him a Japanese collation. The Spaniards responded by a salutation of musketry and arquebusses and by the beating of the drum. On the main mast of the ambassador’s junk they flew the royal standard, and at the stern floated another royal standard, made of Castilian silk, along with an infantry flag with its streamers, all of which, it is related, gave great pleasure to the Japanese beholders who crowded the banks of the river that was filled with innumerable junks.

On landing, the Spaniards were hospitably entertained at the house of the commander, and were assigned a fine residence, whither a nobleman, followed by a numerous suite, came with a message from the shogun. The general went out to meet him at the door, his escort being drawn up in line. The Japanese nobleman was most polite, bowing to the ground, according to native usage. The ambassador followed the Spanish mode, and made a great display of politeness—particularly at the door, where there was much discussion as to who should enter first.

The nobleman expressed the shogun’s hope that the Spaniards were resting and contented in his domain. He informed them that his messenger had orders to provide amply for the general and his escort, and that they would be given six meals a day, for the expenses of which he was sending gold and silver instead of the customary rice, which was used in barter. On the following day he sent two cooks, many servants and an abundance of game and fish. Two kitchens were set up in which meals were respectively prepared in Spanish and Japanese styles. The shogun’s messenger returned to investigate whether all was being attended to, and was invited to dine by the ambassador, who found that his guest cared less for his meat than for his sherry, but was unwilling or unable to respond when his host drank his health for the second time.

On the next day, Tuesday, another messenger was sent by the shogun, announcing that on Wednesday, if the weather were fine, Viscaino would be permitted to deliver his embassy. This message was communicated by two noblemen, who then inquired whether Viscaino had it in mind to adapt himself to the ancient court etiquette of the rulers of Japan, which required that, in the imperial presence, he would have to kneel on both knees and remain with his hands and head on the floor until the shogun gave the sign for him to rise. The Spanish ambassador promptly answered that he did not intend to do any such thing, but would adhere to Spanish court etiquette, would make the bows and render homage to the emperor in the same way as he would to his own lord, the King of Spain. He also announced that he would refuse to lay aside his sword and dagger, or remove his boots, and that the chamberlain would have to assign him a seat near enough to the shogun to be able to hear what the latter said. This answer caused much consternation and discussion and an exchange of messages. Finally the general threatened that if he were not allowed to deliver his embassy according to Spanish etiquette, he would return to New Spain without delivering the viceroy’s letter or presents, and would merely report that he had brought back the Japanese merchants, and returned the money lent to Vivero. Upon this the shogun’s counsellors courteously reminded him that, when received at the Japanese court, Don Rodrigo Vivero, who was not only a cavalier and relative of the viceroy, but had also been governor of Luzon, had made no objections, and had entered the presence of the shogun in the way that was required of him. Ambassador Viscaino replied that all this was perfectly true in the case of Don Vivero, who personally was worthy of the highest consideration, but the latter had come to this court because he had been ship-wrecked and lost, and because necessity compelled him to seek aid and means to proceed to New Spain. He was then in such dire necessity that he was not to blame for any act of submission he may have made, since he came to implore succor and naturally was grateful to the ruler of this country who afforded him aid. It was in consideration of all this that the viceroy had dispatched the present embassy to escort the Japanese merchants home and to express the good will of their Catholic majesties. He added, what was not quite true, that he had not come to ask for anything, nor to bring merchandise, nor to reap gain or profits, but solely for the purpose of delivering his embassy. He repeated, however, that he would sooner depart without delivering it than allow the authority of king and viceroy to be lowered one fraction of its grandeur, for his king was the greatest lord on earth. Viscaino’s arrogant utterances naturally gave offense to the shogun’s messengers; they returned to the palace greatly nonplussed, and affairs came to a standstill.

It was then that the shogun wisely summoned a meeting of the presidents of the councils of state and government, and other high officials, who, after lengthy debates, finally formulated the decree that the Spanish ambassador was to be permitted to fulfill his “mission according to his own usage as best he could.” It was moreover decided that it was only when he spoke in the name of his king that he was to be permitted to occupy the same platform as the shogun who, seated, would receive the viceroy’s letter and presents. Having delivered these, the ambassador was to descend a step, and there deliver his present to the shogun, after which he was to seat himself. The decree concluded with the resolution that as much honor and mercy as possible was to be conceded to the first ambassador from New Spain. All difficulties having thus been overcome by the good will and courtesy of the Japanese, the audience took place on the following morning.

The shogun sent four thousand soldiers of his guard to escort the Spaniards to his palace. The latter formed a group and proceeded in solemn procession, headed by the captain and pilot of the Spanish vessel, followed by members of its crew, and a sergeant, who bore the banner with three streamers, each held by a man. The standard came next, with its three streamers, the ambassador holding it with his right hand. Friar Luis Sotelo, the commissary of the Franciscan order, walked at one side with General Viscaino, and two Franciscan friars at the other, this group being preceded by the commander of the junks and another Japanese nobleman.

The rear-guard was formed by the secretary of the expedition, a sergeant, and the general’s negro drummer, whose appearance and drumming made a great commotion, and attracted a numerous crowd. A detachment of the Japanese guard marched in front of the Spaniards and another behind. At the fifth door of the palace they were met by the chamberlain and other officials and were led into a waiting room, where the ambassador sat for a little while. Thence they were ushered through an inner, richly decorated hall, into a great court-yard, where stood more than a thousand royal princes and knights, each one wearing a helmet on which his insignia of rank was displayed. To them the ambassador made the courtesies and bows which he considered they were entitled to, beginning with the highest in rank. He records that they responded by folding their hands and bowing until their heads touched the ground. Passing on to another square, the ambassador came into the presence of the shogun, seated in his royal robes on cushions and rich carpets. To his right, at a distance, sat his nine counsellors, and, at a lower level, his steward, chamberlain, and secretary. A sign was made to the ambassador to approach, and he did so, all present observing him in profound silence. First of all he made three bows, which were not very deep, and lowered the staff he carried until it nearly touched the ground. He then advanced six paces to a lower platform and made three bows, which were slightly lower than the preceding ones. The next three bows he made, while standing on the lowest platform, were still more profound. Then he placed on his head the viceroy’s letter, and, after making three more bows, deposited it on the platform. During all this time the shogun and his counsellors were observing the ambassador and his extraordinary performances with unconcealed merriment, which the Spanish attributed entirely to the fact that before this the Japanese had never seen a full dress Spanish costume. Viscaino’s raiment is described as being very fine. His cap was adorned with feathers and a gold band. His sword and dagger were gilt, his boots were white with buttons, and his frill was of the finest lace.

Showing evidence of being pleased, the shogun beckoned to his secretary, and gave him an order to lead the ambassador to the seat prepared for him, also to tell him that the shogun was glad to have seen him—especially after all the hardships of the long sea voyage. The thought of not seeing land for eighty-one days seemed to the shogun to be truly dreadful. The ambassador replied, through the interpreter, that he kissed his Highness’ hands for the great condescension that he was showing him, and that, as far as the hardships were concerned, which he had undergone and was yet to undergo on the return voyage, he had come to regard them as gifts ever since he had come into the presence of such a prince. When this speech was translated by the secretary, the prince bowed his head several times towards the ambassador to express his thanks. Viscaino then arose, and after a very profound obeisance presented the viceroy’s gifts. Up to the present the Spanish ambassador had had everything his own way, but now occurred an episode which was probably unexpected. After a moment’s silence, the prince waved his hand with great majesty, and two chamberlains approached the ambassador and led him out of the audience chamber. After a little while, during which the shogun examined the vice-regal presents, Viscaino was again led into the hall, which he entered as he had made his exit, performing the same series of triple bows. This time, it is related, these bows were more profound, a sign that the ambassador had been impressed with great respect for the shogun’s authority. The latter informed him, through his chief counsellors, that he much esteemed the gifts, and that, if the general would like the Spanish soldiers and servants to see him, they would be permitted to enter the audience room. The ambassador then made another bowing exit, and returned with his men, who were, as he takes pains to record, “booted and armed.” The shogun examined them with evident curiosity. The friars were then presented, and offered him their gifts themselves, two of them being excellent interpreters.

Each time that the friars addressed a word to the ambassador, he, although in the presence of the shogun, arose and made them an humble and respectful bow, thus demonstrating his reverence for their priesthood, an observance which, he says, impressed the shogun and his counsellors. At the end of a quarter of an hour, during which the prince contemplated the Spaniards, he made a sign to two of his chief counsellors, who again went to the ambassador and led him out of the hall. He was then requested to allow the shogun to view the portraits of the King and Queen of Spain, which were intended for the emperor. When these were sent for and brought before the shogun, he arose and dismissed every one from the audience room and sent a message to the ambassador, telling him that he was to return to his lodgings, and that the portraits would be sent back to him later. It is recorded that he and his consort and the ladies of the palace particularly enjoyed seeing the portrait of the Spanish queen, on account of her beauty and rich costume, which to them seemed very strange.

On receiving his dismissal, the ambassador set out as he had come, but received the injunction that no volleys of musketry were to be fired as long as he was inside the palace precincts. Once outside, to the great delight of the Japanese, the Spanish soldiers began to fire loud volleys of musketry, with such rapidity that in an hour they had used a whole barrel of powder.

The following days were spent in making visits and presents to the court officials, and on St. John’s day the ambassador and his men went in state to mass, at the Convent of San Francisco, in order, as is stated, to honor the feast of the Saint, and also to give an example to the Japanese to go to church and respect the priests.

At mass they offered a thanksgiving for the mercy that during their stay in the city there had been no accident or bloodshed such as might have been expected. At the Elevation of the Host, volleys were fired and the royal standard and banner were lowered to the base of the altar. On their way to the convent the Spaniards were met by Masumane, the mighty Lord of the Province of Oxo, who was awaiting them on horseback, accompanied by two thousand soldiers and many mounted horsemen. This noble prince, who was to become the friend and protector of the Spaniards and all Christians, is described as so powerful that, in case of warfare, he could command the services of eighty thousand men. As soon as he saw the ambassador he dismounted and sent him a message, asking him as a favor to order the Spanish soldiers to discharge their firearms, because he wanted to see and hear them do so. Acceding to this request, they discharged two such loud volleys that he put his hands to his ears in alarm. Frightened by the noise a number of horses threw their riders, or rolled on the ground. Viscaino relates that the prince and his suite were so amused at this that they nearly died of laughter. When order was restored, the prince approached the ambassador, and bowing to the ground, offered him thanks and his services, and passed on with such demonstrations of politeness and courtesy that the Spanish ambassador was led to state that the Japanese nobility excelled in politeness all of the nations of the world.

The return journey to the Port of Uraga was made at the expense of the shogun and with a large escort of people. About a week later the embassy set out for the court of the emperor, Iyeyasu, at Shizuoka, in the Province of Suraga. On their way the Spaniards met nothing but hospitality, and on arriving at “Corunga,” were lodged in houses adjacent to the palace. On the following day the emperor sent a gracious message, expressing the hope that the ambassador was sufficiently rested to come to the palace. If not, he would be granted an audience whenever it suited him best. Viscaino, who, it is said, was always ready to guard his dignity and impose his will, sent answer that he was ready to deliver his embassy, but that he first desired to know how the ceremony was expected to be. He, for his part, refused to remove his sword, dagger and boots, nor would he kneel upon the floor; what is more, it was his wish and intention to be accompanied by his armed men bearing the insignia of war, the standard, banner and drum. The answer was that the emperor graciously permitted him to deliver his embassy according to his own usage, but that on no account would he be permitted to fire volleys of musketry in the imperial court. Possibly as a means of giving the emperor an opportunity of expressing his displeasure at the arrogance of the Spanish ambassador, it was decided that he was to enter and leave the audience chamber twice,—the first time as the ambassador of the king and viceroy, the second time in his capacity of captain general.

On arriving at the palace, Viscaino was notified of this arrangement, and when he made his first entrance the emperor bowed his head in silent acknowledgment of the series of bows with which he advanced and presented the letter and viceregal gifts.⁠[3]