TWO SWORDS OF NEEJIMA JOE

"Illustrious old man, the honorable baby is a boy." "Shimeta! " exclaimed the old samurai—as we might say "Hurrah!" Four times in past years a messenger had bowed before him with the tidings that he was a grandfather, but always disappointment had followed the news. From the point of view of the samurai, the ancient Japanese nobility, these new babies simply did not count. They were only girls.

Now at last the head of the Niishima family was a grandfather indeed. His household was like a tree that had flung out a new stem, insuring its continued growth in the future.

Also the good news had come on a lucky day. The New Year's Festival was at its height. The streets were bright with many-colored paper lanterns. The houses were decorated with shimenawa— fantastic ornaments guaranteed to bring good luck.

When, a hundred days later, the baby was given his name-charm, two words were written on it; first, according to custom, his family name, then the exclamation with which his grandfather had hailed the news of his birth: "Niishima Shimeta."

Five years later came another great day. "Now I am a man!" cried little Shimeta proudly.  Instead of his baby clothes, just like a girl's he had a brand new silk suit cut like his father's, and finer still, he had two little swords exactly like those his father and grandfather wore, stuck in his girdle. No one but a samurai-a soldier and a gentleman-might wear those swords.

Already Shimeta knew exactly why two were needed and how both should be used. With the long sword, two feet long—or sometimes, if you were a very great samurai, six feet long—you must fight and kill your enemies. When you went to call on a friend you must always take it off and leave it with your servant, or, if you had no servant, lay it carefully on the hall floor. You must never flourish it carelessly or boast of it before others, however proud you might be of it in your heart. But the short sword you used for one purpose only—to kill yourself rather than submit to any dishonor. While you were still a boy you must learn how to do this in exactly the right way. In old days samurai were carefully trained to cut off their own heads; that must have been very difficult, Shimeta thought! Nowadays only a few very great samurai could do that, but all must learn how to commit harakiri (suicide by disembowelment) correctly.

"The girded sword," said Grandfather," is the soul of the samurai.

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Sword-exercises were the lessons Shimeta liked best. When he was grown up his big sword would be as long and fine, his short sword as sharp, as his father's. He thought that they would be his most precious treasures and he would never part from them...If he could have looked forward a few years into the future 1

The two little swords were certainly his finest birthday present. But when he came home from the temple, to which his parents had taken him to celebrate the great day, there were a lot more presents waiting for him—sweets of many kinds, new tops, and, best of all, a fine new kite.

Shimeta liked kite-flying even better than swordplay. The top half of the string with which he flew his kite was dipped in glue and covered with powdered glass, and the point of the game was to fly it so cleverly as to cut another boy's kite-string. As he grew older, Shimeta forgot everything when he went out kite-flying—even dinner waiting for him at home.

"Live under your own hat, my son," said his father at last.  "I shall buy you no more kites." Shimeta bowed low, as good manners dictated; but he was not going to be done out of his game—even though his last kite had been cut away by a playmate's string.  If his father would not buy him any more kites, he would make one for himself. So he did, and, as he proudly remembered for the rest of his life, it turned out first-rate.

It was a pity that all one's time could not be spent in play and mock-fighting. A great deal of it was, for on the whole, boys had a good time in old Japan. But a samurai was not his own master. His first business in life was to serve loyally and faithfully the daimyo or prince to whose court he belonged.

The home of Niishima family looked out upon their prince's courtyard.  Shimeta's father was master of penmanship in the royal household, and he hoped that his son would fill the same honorable post. So long, tedious hours had to be spent in learning to copy the intricate Japanese writing. Then there were elaborate lessons in polite conversation and behavior. All this the boy hated. But parents had to be honored and obeyed. That was the most important lesson of all.

One day his grandfather, the head of the household, heard Shimeta speak rudely to his mother. He had never punished his grandson before, but now without saying a word, he lifted him up, rolled him in a quilt as if he had been a parcel, and shut him in a dark closet. Shimeta would have howled with astonishment and rage— only he remembered even then that a samurai must never howl. But when an hour later Grandfather let him out, he stalked off sulkily into a corner to cry quietly. The old man followed and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Listen to a poem that tells of a young bamboo bush, a sasa, tender, beautiful, and well beloved. 'I saw my sasa bowed down by a weight of snow. To free it from the snow, which would have bent it awry and maybe broken and spoiled it, I struck it with my rod. But I said—

 

 

 

 

 

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“Nikunde wa utanu mono nari, sasa no yuki”—I do not strike in anger—snow on the sasa.” Do you understand? The boy understood. He was always quick understand. After that he loved his grandfather more than ever.

It was a grand thing to be a samurai.—a grand thing to be a son of Dai Nippon, Great Japan.  He knew that the Chinese also were civilized people; but all other nations were barbarians, and the people of Japan would have nothing to do with them.  Shimeta as ten years old when he heard that a fleet of these barbarians, called Americans, had steamed into Yedo Bay.  They seemed to be like monsters in old fairy tales, half-beasts, half-wizards who by their magic could tame volcanoes and turn them into strange, smoking ships.  Wondering talk filled the daimyo’s courtyard, one rumor one day, another the next.

“The Mikado will soon send these barbarians away.”  “They are not gone yet.”  “They will not go unless we promise to let them come back.” “They are to be permitted to land, to go in and out among us back—under certain conditions.”  “These barbarians are harmless.  They only desire to trade peaceably with us.”  “No, they are very dangerous.”  “They will see our power and greatness, and their hearts will melt within them.”

“The barbarians have strange powers and secrets of their own of which we know nothing, and”—voices sank low—“the greatness of Dai Nippon is not what it was in olden days. The daimyo oppress the people.  The samurai have grown lazy and unskilled in swordcraft  Woe to our land in the future unless we shake off this fatal drowsiness.”  Shimeta listened eagerly, and his heart burned.  One morning he rolled up his bed very early and climbed alone up the mountainside to a temple three miles distant.  There he burned incense and prayed to the god of war that he might become a great warrior and help to free his country from all fear of these terrible foreigners.  He practiced his swordplay harder than ever now, until one day, reading about the life of a Chinese hero famous for his learning, he came upon this sentence:  “A sward is only designed to slay a single man, but I am going to learn to kill ten thousand enemies.”  What did that mean?  That learning, knowledge was more important than anything else?  That a great student could serve his country better than a great soldier?

     From that day Shimeta threw aside childish toys and even his beloved kites.  He would rather kill ten thousand enemies than fly ten thousand kites.  He was going to learn everything that there was to be learned—everything in the world. 

     “That son of yours is a bright boy, Niishima Tamiharu,” said the daimyo, “Does he write well?” “Honorable prince, my unworthy son does not devote himself to penmanship as I should desire, but I have seen to it that he practices the art daily—not wholly without result.”

     “What else has he learned?”  “He has had drawing lessons, illustrious prince, and makes such slight progress as his poor abilities can attain to.”  “Let me see some of his drawings.”

     Niishima Tameharu had them ready.  Both he and the prince

 

  

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understood perfectly that his slighting references to his son's capacities were only playing the game in the correct style and meant nothing. "Has he studied Chinese and learned to read the classics?" "He has dabbled feebly in classical learning from his earliest childhood." I know that he can ride and use his sword. How old is he?" "He is now in his fifteenth year."

"Times are changing, Niishima Tamiharu. Your son has already been instructed in all that was required of a samurai in old days. But we can no longer forget the existence of the barbarians.  I have decided to select three youths of good ability in my court to study the learning of these foreign devils, and I desire that Shimeta shall be one of them."

Dutch was the first foreign language that the daimyo had arranged for the lads to be taught. At first Shimeta thought it a much poorer language than Chinese, which he still continued to study. But by and by he began to discover that this strange barbarian language was like a key to unlock a new world. There were wonderful Dutch books dealing with mathematics and engineering and navigation, treating things that had seemed like magic in old Japan as commonplaces of everyday life, explaining the how and why of them.

He had first begun to get interested when his prince died. The new daimyo cared nothing for foreign learning. He oppressed his people and lived in constant fear of being murdered; but knowing that the Niishima family was loyal and honorable, he chose the young samurai as one of his lifeguards. When the daimyo journeyed from one place to another he was carried in a palanquin, and his lifeguards followed him on foot. At other times they squatted on the floor in his court and whenever he entered or left the hall, bowed down before him with their heads touching the ground.

"One might as well be a slave," thought Shimeta.

Something was wrong with Dai Nippon. The high standard of samurai honor, which he had learned from his father and grandfather, was forgotten or even scoffed at by most of his companions. The boy found court life almost unendurable. Perhaps, after all, the things that he had always been taught to admire, the old learning, the old customs, were of no use in these modern days. Perhaps even the gods were of no use.

As a small child he had worshiped most devoutly the family gods, which stood on a shelf in his father's house, but when he discovered that they never ate the food set before them he had begun to lose interest. He wanted to learn more of the secrets of the barbarian wizards. As he grew older he had more spare time, and he contrived to find another Dutch teacher.

Some of the books written in other barbarian languages had been translated into Chinese. There was one called Robinson Crusoe. It fascinated Shimeta, just as it has fascinated many an English boy. How many strange and wonderful countries there were in the world besides Dai Nippon and China—and he had scarcely been out of sight of the prince's courtyard! He wanted to travel all over the world

 

 

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and see these strange lands. He must, he would--someday — somehow.

But when he showed Robinson Crusoe to his grandfather, Shimeta did not meet with the sympathy he had expected. “Young man, this book is dangerous. Do not read it. It will only mislead you.”

Then one day his prince discovered him slipping out   of court to take foreign lessons and he was beaten. The same thing happened again. Even his grandfather was angry and beat him. But Shimeta did not care—they might do what they liked; he was going to get his own way in the end.

     Then one day his prince discovered him slipping out of court to take foreign lessons and he was beaten. The same thing happened again. Even his grandfather was angry and beat him. But Shimeta did not care—they might do what get his own way in the end.   
    At last he was taken ill. "This illness comes from the mind. Your mind is too hot for your body. Go and play and amuse yourself." Shimeta did not want to play. “Give me more time to get knowledge!" he begged of the prince.

     The daimyo did not wish to lose a good servant, and he yielded so far as to allow Shimeta to go to a school in which foreign knowledge was taught, when he was not actually on duty at court. The boy wanted to serve his daimyo--or at least he wanted to serve Japan. Of course, he hated the barbarians, but, if he were to help save his country, he must learn their secrets.    
     To save his country-from what? Not only from the _barbarians.
Everything seemed wrong. Everywhere the great were living in luxury and for pleasure-bad pleasure, and the poor were oppressed and hopeless. "Oh rulers of Japan," cried the boy in his heart, “Why do you keep us down like dogs or pigs? You should love us as children. But, if a man has no knowledge, he is worth no more than a dog or a pig. We must all get more knowledge."        

Other young samurai were thinking the same kind of thoughts and whispering them to one another.  "I will lend you some translations of books written in America," said one of his friends. Shimeta read them greedily. "I should like to visit America, the land where men can think and speak and act freely," he said to his friend when he returned the books.                   

“What-would you leave Dai Nippon?”     

“Not forever. I would learn all that they could teach me in America and then come back and teach this new learning to our own people. Have you any more of ^{these books?”}

His friend hesitated. "I have—but they are Christian books.

Have you ever heard of the Christians?"        

“Yes; I know they are a corrupt and evil sect and that teachers

of their mysteries—Jesus Doctrine—visited our land many years ago and _{corrupted many, until the sect was stamped out with terrible punishments.”}

   _{“Men say,” his friend lowered his voice, “that in spite of the laws against it, this Jesus Doctrine has been handed down in certain families from father to son even to our own time. If this is discovered, the law ordains that the whole family shall be crucified. My father told me that when he was a boy he saw six men and an old woman crucified at Osaka for this crime. Therefore these books are very dangerous.”}

"Nevertheless I will read them. I no longer believe in the     76

gods we were taught to reverence as children. Do you?"

    "Oh no, few of us young men believe in them. But we do not tell this to our parents or the priests. That would not be polite." "One thing puzzles me. If there are no gods, how was the world made?" "I suppose it was made by chance," his friend replied.

But Shimeta was not satisfied.

The book that his friend loaned him was so interesting that he sat up half the night reading it. "If this is true," he thought, "the world was not made by chance but by an unseen hand—the hand of one whom this history calls Heavenly Father. If God is my Father, I belong to him, not to my prince or even to my parents. I must find someone who can explain these things to me."

But how? According to Japanese law his father and grandfather as well as he himself might be crucified if he joined the corrupt sect. His only chance was to get away from home.

"Do you know, “asked an acquaintance whom he met unexpectedly one morning, "that the prince's yacht is sailing for Hakodate in three days' time? You are interested in navigation. How would you like to go too?

Young Niishima did not answer at once; the other laughed as if this question had been a good joke and passed on.

But Shimeta was thinking hard. Hakodate was on another Japanese island, some weeks' journey by sailing junk from Yedo, where his family had always lived,  "if I were once there, I might get away farther still—to some foreign land. But would the prince take me?"

He was afraid that he was not in favor at court. He had been beaten again even lately for neglecting his official duties for foreign study and the daimyo had the power of life and death over all his subjects. Not daring to go directly to the great man, he turned to one of the chief counselors who had always been particu­larly kind to him.

Everything went better than he had dared to hope. He could not only have a free passage on the yacht but a salary for his services during the voyage. Eagerly Shimeta carried the news home.

His father was astonished and horrified; he could not change the prince's order, but Shimeta was made to feel that all his family disapproved of him.

With one exception.  "My dear child," said his grandfather, "Your future will be like seeking for joy on a mountain full of blossoms. Go your way without the least fear."

The old man and the young lad were the only two who forced back their tears when the time came to say good-by. Shimeta had told his mother that he would not hurry back. He might be away a whole year. Or even longer? He wondered vaguely to himself...oh no, surely not longer than that. He was going, as his grandfather had said, to gather blossoms on a high mountain—and then to bring them back to share with those at home.

The journey lasted several weeks, and young Niishima made himself so useful in drawing maps and taking notes of the different harbors in which they anchored that when they reached Hakodate, the

 

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daimyo, as a reward, gave him permission to stay on there for a time

to gather more foreign learning. He was not afraid of the rather ?

 upstart youngster's staying too long, for he knew that he had very little money-–barely enough to keep him for a few months in the style to which, as a samurai, he was accustomed. When that was spent he would be glad enough to be taken home.    

But Shimeta had laid his plans carefully.  If you wanted to gather blossoms on a mountaintop, you must be prepared for a stiff climb—and you could not expect to climb in court uniform.

As soon as he was left alone, he laid aside the treasured long  sword, which was the badge of his samurai rank, and dressed as a common citizen.   He loved his country as much as ever, more than ever.  He was going to serve it as faithfully as his forefathers had done but in a new way.
The wickedness and misery of many of the towns they had visited
on the journey form Yedo had horrified him. Dai Nippon needed a new
life. If this strange Jesus Doctrine was what it seemed to be, there
was a promise of new life there.    

Now, for the first time, he met and talked to quite a number of barbarians and among them a Russian  priest, who agreed to take him  into his house in return for lessons in Japanese.  Then he made friends with a Japanese  clerk in the office of an English merchant who offered to teach him English.        

At length he confided to these two his secret plan of going abroad to learn the Christian faith and then returning to teach it to his fellow countrymen.

"Hush-hush!" cried the old priest. “Be careful, or you will get
us all into serious trouble."            

It is a grand scheme," said the young clerk. Ï will speak to my employers about it. There is an American ship sailing for China with some of our merchandise next week^.  The captain might take you with him.  It will be a risky business, of course, but what is the good of being young if one is afraid to take risks?”  

 It certainly was a risk; for no Japanese was allowed to leave his native land under pain of death. The American captain sent word that he could not possibly take this adventurous young man as a passenger, but, if he would contrive to get on  board  as a stowaway, well, that would be  his own  concern. Once safety out on the open sea, they would consider what could be done about him.

 

It was midnight, but the greater part of the city of Hakodate was bright with glittering candles for it was a season of  festival—matsuri—in honor of the gods.  Only the quarters in which foreigners were allowed to live were hidden in darkness. 

     No one saw a slight figure creeping along toward the wharf with an armful of odd-shaped bundles; but a dog at a little distance heard the klip-klop of wooden ^clogs and started barking.  The next instant all was still. The runaway had slipped off his clogs, waited till the dog was quiet, and then continued on his way barefoot.   

 By the wharf a little boat was waiting.  Shimeta lay down flat

 

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in the bottom of the boat, covering his face so as to look like one of the bundles.

His friend, the clerk, prepared to untie the boat and row out from the shore.

"Who goes there?" called a night watchman.

"It is I," the clerk shouted back. "You know me—I work for the firm of Wilkie & Company. I have an important message for the barbarian ship out in the harbor. It is sailing tomorrow and the business cannot wait."

"The hurry of these barbarians 1" grumbled the watchman. "They cannot even respect a festival! There is no medicine for a fool."

They rowed on in silence. The ship seemed a very long way from the shore. At last it was looming over them. A rope hung down over the side. Shimeta swarmed up. A strong hand grasped his—a kindly hand—but he scarcely saw the face above, for he was pulled swiftly along the deck, down a ladder, and into what looked like a black hole. A door was closed and locked, and he was left alone.

Groping round in the dark, he seemed to be in a kind of store-cupboard. There was plenty of room and ventilation, and he was not uncomfortable. He was very tired, very bewildered, but he felt certain that an unseen hand, the hand that had made the world, had guided him to this strange hiding place. He remembered the day, long ago, when his Grandfather had punished him by shutting him up in the cupboard. He wondered dreamily what Grandfather would say if he could see him now...and then he fell asleep.

Footsteps overhead...voices speaking his own language... That must be officials come to search the ship and make sure no Japanese was on board. He must have slept for hours, and now it was morning. There was nothing to do but to say quiet until he was called out.

The sounds died away and still he lay and waited. It was almost noon when the door was unlocked and someone called to him to come up on deck. The ship was well out to sea now. He could see the beautiful snow-clad mountains of his native land fading in the distance.

"As you cannot pay for your passage, you must work for it," the captain explained to him in bad Japanese. "Pull ropes, clean out my cabin—do whatever you are told. Now I am going to begin by giving you an English lesson, so that you may understand orders."

Shimeta was delighted at this. Though he had already begun to read and write English a little, he could not speak it at all. But he was a quick learner. The captain went around the cabin with him, pointing to different things in it and repeating the name of each slowly and distinctly, and Shimeta did not find them difficult to remember.

It was another thing to be made to work like a servant. When one day he was struck for misunderstanding an order, he saw red and rushed down the ladder to fetch his long sword. He would show them how a samurai avenged such an insult!. . .And after that?

With the sword in his hand he stood still. He was fighting a hard battle—as hard as had ever been fought by any samurai of old. But he could never win it with the old weapons. He put down his

 

 

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sword and went quietly back to work.               
"You know we only go to Shanghai and then back to Japan.

If you still wish to go on to America, we must see if we can get you aboard
some other ship—unless perhaps you have had adventure enough and
would like to return with us and make your peace
governors."

     "I wish to go on, sir."

So the young adventurer was smuggled on board Wild Rover,  the cargo ship bound for the United States.

     "What is your name?" asked his new captain.   
     "Niishima Shimeta." "I shall call you Joe. What can you pay
me if I take you on to the States?"               

Shimeta hesitated. He had hardly any money and only one
valuable possession—his greatest treasure. But there was no turning    
back for him now. Whatever it might cost him, he must get to that
free, wonderful country where he could win the new knowledge that   
would enable him to serve Dai Nippon as no samurai had ever served
her before.                  .      

The captain examined it critically. "I would take it as part

payment, if you are ready to work for the rest.

"I am ready for anything."                     

So stowaway Joe became the Wild Rover’s_cabin boy.

Then later on, “Joe is a willing chap," said the captain.  
"Joe's a clever chap." And by and by, "Joe is a fine chap. I like
him."                               

When the ship stopped at Hong Kong to load up a cargo of rice,
the cabin boy was allowed to go on shore. For the first time in his
life he was in a foreign land. He could wander about freely without
fear of being arrested. Everything was different from home, yet not
so very different. He could both speak and read Chinese, and he
liked looking in shop windows—especially bookshops. There was one
book that he was determined to buy: a Chinese translation of the New    
Testament. But when he went into the shop the bookseller refused to
take his Japanese money. Probably it was not enough anyhow. He had
nothing else.                            

Yes, he had one treasure left—his last. The thought of parting with it was as painful as it would have been to thrust in into his own body, the use of it for which he had been trained in boyhood. But, if he was to be a Christian, he could never use it so. Indeed, as a Christian, how could he use it at all? Let it go. The Book would be a

greater treasure still.

He went back to the captain. "We samurai have two swords.  I have given you the first. Will you buy the second from me—in Chinese money?"

"What do you want for it?"

"Eight dollars."

"Very well. I'll buy it."                
So Niishima Shimeta, son of a long line of warriors, exchanged his sword for a New Testament.

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August. 1865;

The wild Rover was safely anchored in Boston Harbor. Nearly a year had passed since the ship had left Shanghai. No one bothered about speed records in those days. She had crawled along the coast of China and around the Philippine Islands more like a snail than a rover, trading from port to port, and even after sails were set for the American continent, contrary winds had kept holding her back. Now there was plenty of work to be done in unloading and refitting, and still nobody seemed in any great hurry.

"You can stay on board for the present," the captain said to Joe.

"I've got to go home and report to the owners. I'll tell them about you and see if I can get you a job."

So Joe stayed on week after week, working for the rough sailors left in charge of the ship, waiting anxiously for the captain's return and never venturing farther on shore than around about the wharf. He had picked up enough English to make himself understood, but no one with whom he talked was at all encouraging.

"These are bad days," he was told. "War only just ended— nothing doing. You'11 never get any work on shore."

"But—my great aim," began Joe... and then stopped, for he knew that no one cared to listen.

There was only one friend to whom he could speak freely. And he was getting to know that Friend better and better as he studied the Book for which he had bartered his sword.

"Please, God," he prayed, "let me reach my great aim: to get good knowledge so that I may go back to Japan worth more than a cat or a dog."

"You are in luck, Joe," said Captain Taylor, when at last he returned. "Mr. Hardy, the owner of the Wild Rover, wishes to see you himself. If he is pleased with you, he may take you as his own servant, and, if he does that, you're a made man."

Niishima almost jumped for joy; things were beginning to move at last. Then he grew grave again.

"Though the ship's owner may be kind to me," he thought, "Will he send me to school? If he spends money on my dress and food, he will want me to work for him all day....I do not mind work—but then how shall I find time for study? Oh God, if thou hast eyes, look upon me I If thou hast ears, hear my prayer!"

"Why did you run away from your own country, young man? And what do you want to do in America?"

The portly, dignified merchant, before whom the Japanese stowaway stood nervous and trembling, had a kindly glint in his eye. But in his eager excitement, Niishima seemed to have forgotten all his English. He could only stammer more and more incoherently as he saw his great opportunity slipping away. What a fool Mr.Hardy must think him!

But the ship owner proved unexpectedly understanding. "It is hard to explain these things in a foreign language," he said gently and slowly.

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“I am arranging to send you to a Sailors’ Home until I can decide what you may be fit for. Do you think that while you are there you might try  to answer my questions?"

"Yes, oh yes!"            

All that evening, until the head of the Sailor’s Home made him go to bed, Niishima sat at the corner of a table, bending over pen_, ink, and paper heedless of the crowd of sailors of all nationalities who played games, laughed, and talked about him.

He was writing in broken English the story of his life, and as far as he could express it, his great aim.

"Alas," he wrote "I am very poor and foolish. . . My prince said

to me: 'Why will you like foreign knowledge?” and he beated me. I answered him: 'My soul went to my  Master's house to learn, and my body was obliged to go, too. Then he laughed very hard about it and said to me: ‘You are stable boy. I have held my stableness very fast and kept such thought, praying only to God, “Please let me reach my aim!'.. Please, Mr.Hardy, let me go to school. Give me remainders from your table for my eating, old one of clothing for my dressing, ink, pen, and paper, pencil for using of my study!”

     “This Japanese stowaway seems a remarkable fellow, said Mr. Hardy to

Hardy to his wife. "Shall we take him into our house and see we can make of him?"

"Yes, my dear, let us."       

The more they saw of tne young man and talked with him the better they liked him.  

"I think, Joe," said Mr. Hardy to him after some weeks, that the name the sailors gave you is a very good name for you. You must read the story of Joseph in the Bible. Perhaps God has called you to be a saviour to your people, as he was to his. I am not going to keep you as my servant as I had

intended at first. I am going to send you to school."

Once more Joe was plunged into a new bewildering world. But he never minded being laughed at when he made queer mistakes, and never minded

everybody liked him.                

"Your Japanese stowaway is going ahead fast,” was the report to Mr. Hardy."He has uncommon abilities. Of course, he needs a lot of help and attention, but he is very grateful and ready to do anything that he can in return. Joseph is a gentleman. He is full of fun, too, at times, although he works so hard.

He had plenty to work at—spelling and grammar and composition, mathematics, history, geography, science. He would never be content until he mastered all this strange learning so thoroughly that he could take it home to his own people. Most eagerly of all he followed the Scripture lessons. Very soon he could say "I love Jesus more than anything else. I cast my whole self to him. This is my vow. I will go back to Japan to turn the people to Jesus."

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Early in January, 1866, just twenty-three years after the New Year's Festival morning on which the old grandfather in Dai Nippon had cried "Shimeta," the lad whom he had sent off so bravely to gather blossoms on a faraway mountain took a new name.  He was baptized into the Christian church as "Joseph Hardy Niishima."

"But before you return to your own people as a missionary teacher," said Mr. Hardy, "I want you to go to college and be ordained."

Niishima agreed. "Yes, I must nourish myself if I am to feed others and must wait until I have full strength and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.  I hope my old grandfather may live till my return... but he would not bid me come back empty-handed or carrying a few blossoms."

He had written home telling of all his adventures. Months grew into years before he received an answering letter from Japan, but it came at last, bringing joyful news.

His family was not angry with him. Times were changing, and perhaps, his father wrote, it was a good thing that he should study the strange barbarian learning and customs. They all longed to see him again, especially his grandfather.

Much had happened since he left Japan and was still happening. Soon Niishima was not the only Japanese student in America. At first the other young men came over secretly without the consent of the government, but with money provided by some of the great daimyos. Then came news of revolution, of permission and encouragement for all who wished to travel and study barbarian ways

Now Niishima Tamiharu wrote not only to Shimeta but to Mr Hardy. Of course, he wrote in Japanese, but Joe translated it 'into English.

"Though my son is not very bright, yet I expect that he will
become a reputable man through your kindness, and I rejoice
greatly.”                                             ^J

Then there actually came a Japanese Embassy to the United States. Such a thing had never been heard of before, if the ambassadors were to meet the barbarians on equal terms, they would need an official interpreter-and they had selected him already. The son of Niishima Tamiharu was just the man for them

But Shimeta was not so sure about it.  "If I once connect myself with the government," he feared, "shall I not be its slave?" worse still, a fugitive slave recaptured.

He was determined that come what might, he would never consent to that. Yet one way of escape that he could have taken he would not take. At that time he might have been naturalized as an American subject, but he wanted to remain Japanese- "a free Japanese citizen"— free to serve one master, Jesus Christ.

All this he made clear in his beautiful Japanese writing, very politely but very firmly. *

The ambassadors wanted his help so badly that they let him have his own way, without any conditions.

It was a great moment for the runaway when he received an

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Official document with many seals, stating: “It is permitted by the Government of Niishima Shimeta to remain and study in the United States of America.

A little while later the mail brought a request that he go to meet the Ambassador at Washington and report to them all that he knew about the American system of education. A request, not a command.

"I will go," said Niishima. I think it is a good opportunity to speak Christ."

No one else could have guessed how fast his heart was beating when he entered the presence of the great men. According to Japanese etiquette, he ought to fall flat on his face before them. He stood quietly upright, wondering what would happen next.

The chief ambassador [Tanaka Futamaru] bowed to an angle of 70 degrees from the perpendicular. Joe also made a 70 degree bow. It was like a meeting of a great daimyo. “Inwardly,” he said afterwards, “I could not help but laughing.” But, of course, his face was demurely grave while they carried on polite conversation in the correct style. In the end it was arranged that he should stay with the embassy for a while as an honored guest, doing all that he could to help his fellow countrymen as a favor.

“I have kept my right and my right was granted to me,” he wrote to Mr. Hardy. “Rejoice with me, for I am a free man—free in Jesus Christ.”

    Before returning to Japan, the ambassadors had planned to visit Europe. Niishima proved so useful to them that they asked him to come with them as official secretary. To travel all over the world!

That had been his dream ever since he first read Robinson Crusoe.

“It is my golden opportunity,” he wrote to Mr. Hardy. “I am much perplexed. I would not do anything unless I get your approval. Please tell me what I should do.”

“Go,” came the unhesitating answer.

So the stowaway became a recognized government official.

During the next two years he visited almost every country in Europe.

It was all great fun as well as hard work and splendid preparation for his great aim.
     "Teach me to read English, said his chief. Niishima chose the

New Testament as his lesson book. “It is virtuous food,” the great man

man admitted--but to become an avowed Christian was a very different

thing. When they returned to Japan they must show respect to the old ways outwardly; to be polite was more important than to be truthful.

Still the secretary would not lower his own standard. “I will not go home," he said, "concealing my Christian faith as a trembling thief goes in the dark night under fear of discovery, but as a Christian man to make known to the government and to all men my new and healthier religion." "I do not know," returned his chief, whether this would be safe for you or not. The laws against the corrupt sect have never been repealed. But you might try." He was certainly going to try. After all, he had risked his life life in leaving Japan, and he would go on risking it to the end.

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"Come back with us," said the ambassador a little later.  "Now we are no longer as the well that knows not the ocean. We have wandered from one barbarian land to another and learned something in each. The time has come for us to carry back our reports to Dai Nippon. Return in our company, Niishima Shimeta, and you will be well rewarded."

"Not yet, I must first visit my friends in America and report to them."

"These strange lands do not suit your health. You are often ill."

"Yes, but I feel a plow in my hands, and I must follow it. I have a dream,and I cannot rest until it comes true. I, too, have my face set toward Japan, but I remember the saying of our wise men, 'If in a hurry, go around.'"

So Joseph Hardy Niishima returned to his American friends to receive ordination as a Christian minister; though with them, too, he held quietly to his own way, which was not always exactly theirs.

"I am going back to my country as a Christian missionary. But I have a special work to do there. The young men of my own order, the samurai, are now leading the nation. It is they who have started this revolution, and the future depends on them. They are eager for Western learning. I want to found a Christian university where they can be won for Christ. We must give them the best possible Christian education. This will cost money—much money. I cannot do it without help. Will the board of missions help me?

Mr. Hardy, to whom Niishima spoke, smiled rather doubtfully. This sounded like a very ambitious scheme. He would promise nothing at first. Still—"You might try, Joseph."

At a crowded farewell meeting, Joseph repeated his appeal. "I was a poor untried speaker," he said afterwards, "but after a few minutes my trembling knees became firm and strong."

"I will stand on this platform," he cried, "until the money I shall need is promised me."

He got it.

Ten years had passed since the stowaway boarded the Wild Rover. The Japan of his boyhood was changed and changing faster and faster every day. His old grandfather and the fine old-fashioned order of things were only memories now. Almost everyone wanted to learn and follow barbarian ways, but that did not mean that they wanted to follow the Jesus Doctrine.

Niishima's first idea was to found his university in the city of Osaka. "Yes," said the governor, "you may open your school here, but we will never allow any Christian missionaries to teach in it."

Some of the American missionaries were difficult, too. "Why not be content to teach the Bible only?" they said.

"Because our youth want knowledge. "Niishima tried to speak quietly and patiently. He understood that hunger for knowledge so well...why could not these missionaries understand? "They want modern science. And they will stay with us only if we can give it to them."

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He would not let his own people down, and he would not let the missionaries down either.

The governor of another great city, Kyoto, had heard the story of the stowaway and of his work for the Japanese Embassy in America and Europe.  "I shall give you permission to open your school here, to teach what you like, and have what teachers you like," he said, "so long as you do not advertise the Christian religion in your list of subjects. You can call it Moral Science."

Names and titles mattered little to Niishima. His fellow missionaries were learning to trust him, and they agreed with Niishima that the governor's request should be granted.

The next difficulty was to get ground on which to build.  "Our unworthy land is not suitable for your honorable college , " was the usual polite refusal.

It seemed as if, after all, there was no place to be found for him in Kyoto, any more than in Osaka, till someone at last suggest­ed — "Go to the city counselor, Yamamoto Kakuma. He is blind and crippled, but he is very wise. He is not a member of the corrupt sect, but he listens while their books are read aloud to him."

So Niishima went to call on the blind counselor, and as the two talked together, their hearts leaped toward each other in friendship.

"These Christian books have done me good," said Yamamoto. "I think that day has dawned for me, and I see a path that I have long been unconsciously seeking. I have the land that you need, and I will let you buy it. By what name will you call your school?"

"The Doshisha — the one-purpose company. This poor runaway boy has one purpose — to plant the standard of truth here and never retreat . "

He would never retreat, but often for weeks together he had to stand still and wait. Counselor Yamamoto held to his word, but there were many other people whose permission had to be obtained before he could even start building. Promises half given one day would be taken back the next. But always in the end he won his way, until "If it is Niishima, it is all right" became almost a proverb. He was as undaunted a fighter as any of his ancestors had been, but the sword with which he fought was of finer metal.

On November 29, 1875, just one week short of a year after his return to Japan, before the new building was ready, the Doshisha started in a hired house with eight pupils. Counselor Yamamoto came to the opening, and with him his sister 0-yaye, who seemed to Niishima the most wonderful woman he had met. She, too, was studying Christian books, though she was a teacher in a government school and knew that if she became a Christian, she would certainly lose her job.

"But she is like her blind brother," he wrote to friends in America, "afraid of no one when convinced of her duty."

Their friendship grew, until on January, 1876, 0-Yaye was baptized into the Christian church, and the next day she and Niishima were married.

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"Now in the heart of our one purpose company there shall be a home that you and I will make together. A perfectly happy home, the first Christian Japanese home in Kyoto. And you will help me to teach our Jesus Doctrine to all who come to us for Western learning."

"And we will teach women as well as men."

"Yes, women as well as men have rights. With God's help we will make our Doshisha a true Christian university for all Japan. Our work will not be easy; we will need to be very strong and very patient. It will not be the work of a day. Perhaps we shall never see it completed....but our purpose will not be in vain."

Fourteen years later, on a January day in the year 1890, five hundred young men marching rank after rank climbed a hillside overlooking the city of Kyoto. Rain was beating down but they pressed on steadily, carrying in their midst, lifted high on the shoulders of six of them, what looked like a moving flowerbed, so thickly was it covered with bright-colored blossoms. Those around it inarched silently with bowed heads. But some of the lads at the back talked to one another in low tones.

"It is fitting that he should be buried here, rather than with his fathers in the grove of the Buddhist Temple."

"The priests would not have allowed that. Was he not, as they said, the very head of Christianity in Japan?"

"You and I are not Christians. Many of us Doshisha students are not. But we all loved Niishima as if he had been our father."

"He was so firm and yet so gentle."

"I think that his spirit often raged within him like the billowy sea—but it flowed out to others calm and peaceful."

"He was like fire rather than water. There burned in him a flame of mighty power."

"You remember that term when all seemed to be going wrong with the Doshisha?"

"Shall I ever forget it? I was one of those who had broken rules, and my heart was hard and angry when he called us together, and I saw that he held a cane in his right hand. He said sternly that someone must be punished and that he as our head was responsi­ble for us all, and lifting the cane he struck his own left hand again and again, fiercely, cruelly, until we begged him to have mercy."

"I never dared to disobey him after that."

"Nor I. But though we all loved him, I think that we often grieved him."

"He was happy at the end. Some who had learned the Jesus Doctrine from him promised him that they would carry on his work. He was very weak, but he smiled, saying, ‘Sufficient, sufficient,' and then a little later, 'Peace—joy—heaven.' Those were his last words."

"Strange last words for the son of a samurai. I do not understand them."

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"They have to do with the Jesus Doctrine. Perhaps no one who does not understand that could quite understand Niishima." "He was an honor to Japan, a great samurai." "I wish his two swords could have been laid beside him now." It seems to me that he changed them for other, sharper swords." "What do you mean?"

"I am not sure, but I think he would have said that one was the sword of truth, and other the sword of love. You see, he was a Christian samurai."

COMPREHENSION QUESTIONS:

1. Exactly when was Neeshima Shimeta born? 

2. How did the boy get named "Shimeta?"

3. What was his father's work?

4. What presents did Shimeta get when he turned five years old?

5   What did Tamiharu Mishima hope for his son's future?

6. What did his first daimyo hope for young Shimeta?

7. How did Shimeta think that he could serve and save Japan?

8.  What were some of Shimeta's ambitions as a teenager and goals as a young man?

9 How did Niishima get his first opportunity to visit a foreign country, and where did he first visit overseas?

10. What was Niishima's aim in going to college in America?

11. Who were Niishima's benefactors, both in his American life and also in helping him to build one of the first universities in Japan?

12. What did he learn about Japan after he sent a letter to his family from America?

13. After returning to Japan, what did he establish and where was it? What work did Niishima and his wife want to accomplish?

14. After returning to Japan, how many more years did he live before he died?

15. What were his last words, and what do you think they meant?

16. What did Niishima exchange his two samurai swords for in actual fact?

17. Symbolically speaking, what could we say he exchanged them for? Some students at Doushisha said that he had found two better swords. What were they and why could they be considered to be more valuable or precious than any samurai swords?

18. How did Niishima impress an early group of unruly Doushisha college boys?

19. What character qualities are shown throughout Niishima's life that helped to make him first an excellent student, and secondly, a truly great Japanese leader?

20. Why was Niishima happy at the end of his short life?  88

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