Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan (33 page)

Read Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan Online

Authors: Giles Milton

Hidetada was also less astute than Ieyasu and he found it almost impossible to distinguish between Protestant and Catholic. It soon became apparent that his courtiers—who were well versed in Adams’s views of Catholicism—were particularly interested in discovering Cocks’s opinions of the Jesuits and friars. They quizzed him about Protestantism in England and the tenets of the faith so as to compare his answers with those of the trusted Adams. “The Councill,” wrote Cocks, “sent unto me I think above twenty times to know whether the English nation were [Protestant] Christians or no.” One of his principal difficulties had been caused by a letter, written by King James I, in which he had styled himself as “Defender of the Christian Faith.” The court said that this was exactly the same title used by the Jesuits and that they must
therefore share the same beliefs. Exasperated, Cocks informed them—not for the first time—“that all Jesuites and friers were banished out of England before I was borne, the English nation not holding with the pope nor his doctrine.”
The courtiers listened politely, yet they remained suspicious and warned the English not to have any contact with papists. Cocks responded with his own warning—that Hidetada should watch that the Catholics in Japan did not behave “as they had done [toward] the kinges of England, in going about to kill and poison them, or to blow them up with gunpowder, and stirring up the subjects, to rebell against their naturall prince, for which they were all banished out of England.” Cocks was so desperate to prove his anti-Catholic credentials that he suggested an Anglo-Japanese attack on the Spanish Philippines. It would, he said, be a great opportunity to kill Catholics and added that Hidetada “needed not to dowbte the assistance both of the English and Dutch.”
This, at last, had some effect. Stiffening his resolve to eradicate the Jesuits and friars, Hidetada, at the beginning of September 1616, issued new edicts to the effect that anyone suspected of sheltering Christians would be put to death, along with all their relatives. Two days later Cocks received a visit from a courtier who brought the news that the delay in the renewal of their trade privileges was caused by a rumor that William Adams’s wife was harboring Christians on their country estate at Hemi. Adams was alarmed and “wrot … to his folkes, to look out that no such matter were proved against them, as they tendered their lives.”
Adams visited the court every morning, hoping to receive good news, but each time there was some new obstacle that prevented the privileges from being signed. One day, he was told that “foule weather” had prevented the usual business at court; another, the courtiers were too busy torturing a man suspected of helping in the defense of Osaka Castle. He was “racked and tormented
very much,” but refused to confess, claiming it would be dishonorable to break under pressure. This only encouraged his tormentors, who “applied exquisite tortures of fire and pressed him between boards studded with the points of spikes, and transfixed him, but despite his certain knowledge, he did not confess a single thing before he died.”
from Nicolas Tigault’s De christianis apud Iaponicos triumphis, 1623
.
 
Torture was commonplace and gruesome in Japan. Many of the most terrible punishments, such as suspension with weights (above), were used on captured Christians.
 
Although Hidetada had yet to make up his mind about the English trade privileges, he had a great respect for Adams and was keen to recruit him as a master-pilot. He had learned from his father of Adams’s skills as a navigator and had been aware of Ieyasu’s proposal to place Adams in command of an expedition in search of the fabled Northwest Passage. To Adams’s dismay, those plans had come to nothing, for Ieyasu had been too preoccupied with civil unrest to finance such an expedition.
Hidetada had his own, rather different mission for Adams and summoned him to the court to discuss details. “He understood there were certen islands to the northwards, very rich in mines of gold and silver, which the emperour ment to conquer, and asked him whether—upon good terms—he would be pilot.” Adams pointed out that he had agreed to undertake a number of projects on behalf of the East India Company and, always a man of principle, he “could not serve two masters.” But he promised to do everything he could to discover more about these islands, and his willingness to help evidently impressed Hidetada, for his mood toward the English began to lighten.
By the third week in September, the English were convinced that the deadlock was about to end. The shogun sent Cocks a present of ten kimonos and a suit of armor, as well as two kimonos each for Eaton and Wickham. More gifts soon followed from other courtiers and retainers, and three days later came the greatest present of all. Adams was handed the renewed trading privileges, which granted the English permission to stay in Japan. The only condition was that they should not “comunecate, confesse nor baptise” with Catholics, something that neither Cocks nor his men had any intention of doing. Hidetada also gave Adams a
shuinjo
—a document sealed with vermilion-colored wax—that renewed his permission to sail overseas. It also provided
protection against piratical attack, for an assault on a
shuinjo
-carrying vessel was considered an assault on the shogun himself. Malefactors would be hunted down and executed.
Just hours after receiving these all-important documents, Cocks, Eaton, and Wickham set off with Adams to pay a visit to his estate at Hemi. Adams’s return was a cause of great joy to his vassals and “husbandmen,” who lined the roads to cheer him on his way. Cocks, as Adams’s guest, was also given a hero’s welcome, and “divers of his tenantes brought me presents of fruite, [such] as oringes, figgs, peares, chestnuttes and grapes.” Cocks responded by handing out small gifts of cloth and money. The size of Adams’s estate and the authority that he wielded over his retainers left a lasting impression on Cocks. Unlike English lords, whose power over their tenants was limited by the law of the land, Adams was truly the master of all he owned. “There is above 100 farmes or howsehold upon it [the estate],” wrote Cocks, “besides others under them, all of which are his vassals, and he hath power of life and death over them.” He added that these peasants and agricultural laborers were “his slaves, and he has absolute authority over them, as hath any
tono
or king in Japan over his vassales.”
After a few days of merrymaking at Adams’s house, the men decided to pay a visit to the respected Japanese admiral Mukai Shogen Tadakatsu, who lived nearby. They set off on horseback. Cocks was most impressed that they were accompanied by a group of Adams’s Japanese tenants, who ran alongside on foot “as homegers [vassals].” When the men arrived at the admiral’s house, they were given a lavish dinner and bundles of gifts. Cocks was delighted to be presented with a dagger and wrote that Mukai “is one of the best friends we have in Japan.”
The idyllic few days in Hemi came to an abrupt end on the last day of September, when the men received an express letter from Richard Wickham in Edo. This brought disastrous news. Hidetada had issued a decree to the effect that it was unlawful for Japanese merchants to buy merchandise from any foreigner residing
in Osaka, Kyoto, or Sakai. If true, this would strike a death knell to England’s fledgling trade with Japan, for it would mean the abandonment of all the subfactories that had so far been established. Cocks was perplexed that Hidetada should issue such a decree so soon after reconfirming English privileges and recorded that the news “seemed very strange unto me.” It was only when he studied Hidetada’s grant in detail—this time with the help of an erudite Buddhist priest—that he realized that the English privileges had been severely curtailed. “We were,” wrote Cocks, “restrained to have our shipping to go to no other place in Japan but Hirado.” He knew that unless this order could be overturned, it would necessitate the closure of the factory and would also spell the end of their charmed lives in Japan.
Adams dashed straight to Edo, accompanied by Cocks and Eaton, in order to beg the court to change its mind. Cocks was extremely upset and when he met one of the most senior courtiers, he told him that “the emperour might as well banish us right out of Japan as bind us to such an order, for that we could make no sales at that place.” Cocks tried everything in his power to persuade Hidetada to revoke his decree. He even said that his life would be in danger if their privileges were not restored, for “King James would think it to be our misbehaviours that caused our privilegese to be taken from us.” Cocks added, “It stood me upon as much as my life was worth to get it amended, otherwise I knew not how to show my face in England.”
But Hidetada was immovable. He had not been impressed by Cocks and was determined to confine the English to their remote factory in Hirado. Only after intense lobbying did he agree to a compromise. He told Cocks that the goods already stored in the subfactories could be sold off under the terms of the original charter, but all future trade must be confined to Hirado. William Adams alone was exempt from this order: he had impressed Hidetada with the breadth of his knowledge, and the shogun renewed his position as
hatamoto
, which gave him equal status to other
Japanese samurai. Cocks held out the hope that Hidetada would change his mind about the trading privileges, recording that otherwise, “I feare me our Japan trade will not be worth the looking after.” But the shogun refused, and the disappointed English decided to leave Edo.
As they set off for Hirado, they suffered a further, and almost fatal, setback. Adams was galloping along a country lane when a bird flew unexpectedly from the hedgerow. “It caused Captain Adams’s horse to start, so that he fell backward and put his right shoulder-bone out of the joint and, 100-to-one, that he had broake his neck.”
The men found roadside lodgings so that Adams could rest his damaged shoulder, and on the following day he felt a little better. But there was no question of him continuing on toward Hirado for the time being. “In respect [that] Captain Adams feared his arme would go out of joint againe, he thought it best to stay four or five days at Suruga.”
He eventually caught up with Cocks and Eaton in Kyoto, even though his shoulder was still causing him extreme pain, and remained in their company for the rest of the journey. On December 4, 1616, the three disappointed men arrived back in Hirado, where the future looked bleaker than ever. But not everyone was quite so downhearted. Richard Wickham, in particular, had cause to be very happy indeed.
KILLED LIKE FISHES
R
ICHARD WICKHAM had every reason to be pleased with himself. While the factory trade had faltered and Cocks moaned about decline, he had been managing his own affairs with spectacular success. He was thriving in Japan, having devoted all his energies to amassing a private fortune.
Those invited into his living quarters were left in no doubt that he was doing extremely well for himself. His room was crammed from floor to ceiling with treasures and curiosities, while his trunks were overflowing with Chinese silks. An inventory of his belongings reveals a man who enjoyed all the trappings of wealth and did not hesitate to spend his money. He ate off fine china, made his tea in a silver teapot, and drank beer out of polished “tackerdes.” His dining table was draped in the choicest cloth, and there was an ointment box in the washroom for those who wished to perfume themselves. His chamber was a picture of oriental splendor, adorned with an extraordinary collection of curiosities
and souvenirs from right across the East—Japanese chests, Javanese spears, and rubies from Siam. His larder was no less exotic and contained supplies of “sugar-candy” for his sweet-toothed friends, as well as “jarres [of] conserves” and a large supply of liquor.
But the possessions on display were as nothing in comparison to his extraordinary collection of clothes. Wickham had been quick to note the Japanese custom of dressing smartly and he started to emulate the local courtiers, equipping himself with a wardrobe that contained dozens of finely tailored shirts and garters. His doublets were his most extravagant gesture to foppishness. One was made from thick purple satin and trimmed with gold lace. Another had a brilliant orange collar. Wickham also had a collection of flamboyant hatbands—some embossed with gold—to add a touch of exoticism to the dandyish ensemble.
Wickham’s possessions were worth more than £1,400—a significant sum for someone who was earning just £40 a year. When news of his wealth reached London, the company directors were aghast and expressed surprise that Wickham was making so much money “in a place where the company lost all theirs.” In truth, they knew only too well how Wickham had amassed his fortune. Instead of working for the profit of the Hirado factory—for which he was paid and employed—he had devoted all his energy to enriching himself.
Wickham was hungry for money. He had been planning his path to riches long before he set foot in Japan and had proceeded to amass silver with a single-minded determination that had shocked his shipmates on the
Clove
. As soon as he arrived in Bantam, he began buying up goods with his own savings, hoping to sell them for a profit in Japan. When this first attempt failed, Wickham dispatched the goods back to Bantam and asked his friends to send instead a consignment of pepper or silk, “or any knowne comodity that will make me my principal againe.” In the
intervening months, he had been busy speculating with the cash that he had brought from England.
Private trade was the curse of the East India Company and was roundly condemned by the London merchants. They did everything in their power to limit the buying and selling of goods for personal profit, and each ship’s captain was instructed to forbid his mariners from indulging in financial speculation. When Saris set sail in 1611, he was explicitly commanded to prevent Cocks’s men from buying and selling on their own account, and the London merchants set down “an absolute order that no man, neither captains, marchaunts, masters or marriners, or any other person or persons whatsoever … do trade or deale for any [private] marchandize.”
Yet it was inevitable that some men would break this command, and few mariners would ever have left England if they had not had the hope of doing deals on the side. Captains, too, were in the habit of speculating with their own money. William Keeling had been so bold as to request that in his case—as commander of an important expedition—he should be granted a special dispensation that would allow him to engage in private trade. The merchants “utterlie distasted” of the proposal and offered instead to double his wages. Keeling accepted the pay raise with alacrity, but continued to press for permission to trade on his own account. When the merchants realized that he was in danger of resigning his post, they had little option but to agree. But they made him swear to secrecy and ordered him to prevent his men from following suit. Keeling was true to his word; indeed, he surpassed himself by disciplining several factors in Bantam and warning them that they broke company rules “at your perill.”
Wickham was not the only Englishman in Hirado to indulge in private trade. Nealson, Sayers, and the young Richard Hudson—one of the three men left behind by the
Hosiander
—all struck secret deals with the Japanese. Eaton established his own
lacquerware syndicate, and even “honest” Mr. Cocks speculated with his own money. On one occasion, he asked Wickham to invest some of his silver, but Wickham was not interested in making other men rich. “He retorned me my money as I delivered it,” wrote an angry Cocks, “and employed all his own.” Such a mean-spirited attitude was a continual source of grievance, as was Wickham’s habit of escaping censure by reminding Cocks of his friendship with Sir Thomas Smythe.
Unlike Adams, the men had made only a few friends among the local Japanese population of Hirado and preferred to rely upon each other for amusement and entertainment. Cocks and Wickham had appreciated each other’s company on first arriving in Japan, but their relationship soon deteriorated. This was particularly galling to Cocks, who had more in common with Wickham than any of the other men. Both he and Wickham saw themselves as cultured—sophisticated, even—and enjoyed writing about their experiences in Japan. They also liked reading and spent time and money acquiring new books. Wickham amassed a considerable library of fifty-eight volumes “great and small,” while Cocks had histories sent to him from Bantam. The two men occasionally indulged in intellectual banter, and Wickham delighted in dropping references to Suetonius and Cicero into his letters. Like Cocks, he also enjoyed scandal, especially when it involved women. He referred to one Japanese girl as his “little vixen.”
There was much to bring these two men together, yet Cocks quickly tired of Wickham’s boorish behavior. Wickham was proud, capricious, and hotheaded, spending much of his time in the society of drunkards—perhaps because they were best able to bear his company. Cocks noted with some satisfaction that Wickham was unpopular, adding that those who socialized with him were hoping to profit in the event of his succumbing to an early death. “I think all the rest of the English in these parts desire rather his rowme [chamber] than company,” he wrote. As the factory’s finances grew more and more desperate, Cocks became
more and more impatient with Wickham. But he also realized that a complete breakdown of relations would make life impossible ; after one particularly ferocious row, he wrote Wickham a letter in which he claimed to have “quite put out of my memory any wordes which have passed betwixt us.” He would soon discover that Wickham was not so magnanimous.
The other factory members had also begun to wear on one another’s nerves. Although there was much to celebrate in Japan, they soon tired of life in such a strange and uncompromising land and grew bored with each other’s company. William Nealson was the most obviously troublesome. He had been employed as the factory’s assistant bookkeeper, but he showed little enthusiasm for work and preferred to indulge his passion for alcohol. Soon after arriving in Japan, he began to display the tendencies of an alcoholic and became subject to wild and irrational mood swings. Cocks increasingly found himself cautioning Nealson for his unruly behavior, but his admonishments had little effect. Indeed, they seemed only to fuel Nealson’s fury. On one occasion he rounded on Cocks and launched a scathing attack. “He fell out with me,” wrote Cocks, “and called me old drunken asse, giving me many thretning speeches not sufferable.” Cocks quickly grew weary of Nealson’s drunkenness and his “fustian fumes.” He eventually tired of admonishing Nealson and left him to his own devices. “When god is my judg,” he sighed, “I have been taxed with all the English in the cuntry for suffering Mr Nealson to abuze all men as he daily does.”
No less irksome was John Osterwick, who had joined the factory from the
Hosiander
in 1615. Cocks had taken an instant dislike to Osterwick, describing him as “a proud, surly young man and one that scorns all men in respect of himself.” The feeling was mutual, and it was not long before Osterwick was actively stoking warfare between Cocks and his men. He formed a friendship with Nealson, then tried to poison his mind by suggesting that Cocks was hoarding company money for his own private use. Cocks was
furious, but managed to keep a cool head. He informed Osterwick that “it had been better he had told me thereof, than to speake such matters to others.”
It was inevitable that such a small group of men would form themselves into factions and equally inevitable that Cocks—as leader—would find himself the object of their criticism. Yet he did have one ally, William Eaton, who was loyal, competent, and hardworking. He and Cocks quickly discovered that they had much in common. Both may even have come from Staffordshire, since Cocks refers to him as “my cuntryman.” He certainly recognized Eaton as a man of uncommon ability and sent him on frequent trading missions to Osaka, Sakai, and Kyoto. Even in the darkest times, when money was scarce, Eaton remained loyal, and Cocks repaid him with frequent warm tributes in his letters and diary. He described him as “a true honest man and a friend to his friend.” Eaton’s loyalty may well have stemmed from the fact that he was happy in Japan. After a brief but disastrous relationship with O-man, he fell in love with a local girl called Kamezo. He showered her with gifts of silks and cloths, and Kamezo repaid his affection by bearing him a son and a daughter.
The men’s most complex relationship was with William Adams. They knew that Adams’s friendship with Ieyasu had proved of the greatest assistance to the factory and were forever turning to him for help and advice. Cocks freely admitted to being deeply impressed by Adams’s knowledge of the language and customs of Japan. He was only too aware that without Adams to argue their case at court, they would never have been allowed to establish themselves in the country. Yet he retained a sneaking mistrust of his most valued servant and harbored suspicions that Adams was secretly working for the Dutch and the Spanish. These were never substantiated, yet it took Cocks more than three years to concede that he had misjudged Adams. Like Captain Saris, Cocks had confused Adams’s aloofness with arrogance and failed to realize that Adams had good reason to be troubled by the men’s
drunkenness and whoring. It was Adams, after all, who had to answer for their behavior at the shogun’s court—a position that won him praise neither from Hidetada nor from Cocks.
It was only after Cocks had seen Adams pleading the English cause with the shogun that he realized his previous comments had been unfair. In a letter to the East India Company directors in London, he informed them that “I find the man tractable and willing to doe your worships the best service he may.” He later commented that Adams’s calm demeanor was in stark contrast to that of the unruly men in his charge. “I am perswaded I could live with him seven years before any extraordinary speeches should happen betwixt us.”
Adams had rescued the English factory from financial ruin in 1616. Cocks had spent a small fortune on building works and had further depleted his supplies of silver by establishing trading posts in Edo and Osaka. His parties and feasts had also eaten into precious resources, while the civil strife that followed the Osaka battle had damaged much of the stock in William Eaton’s outpost. Cocks had also found himself spending more than £300 on unexpected repairs to the
Hosiander
. With such huge outgoings, it was only a matter of time before the factory lurched into insolvency
When Adams’s contract with the East India Company had officially come to an end in November 1615, his initial reaction was that he had no intention of renewing it. He had no need of the paltry salary he was paid; he was more than capable of making money from private trading voyages, as well as from rice harvested on his country estate. But he knew that Cocks was facing severe financial difficulties and, although he had little in common with the staff of the English factory, he had no wish for them to come to harm. That same month, he offered his services to Cocks for much of the next year, helping him out of a succession of crises.
His voyage to Siam, which lasted from the winter of 1615 until the summer of 1616, had thrown a lifeline to the factory. Adams sailed his junk, the
Sea Adventure
, to Ayutthaya—the site of the little
English trading post founded by Lucas Antheunis—and bestowed numerous presents on local Siamese officials. In return, he was allowed to acquire vast quantities of sappanwood—a commodity that continued to fetch spectacular prices in Japan. Adams managed to buy so much cargo that his junk was soon fully laden. He found it necessary to charter two additional vessels to transport the rest of the goods back to Hirado.

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