Japan’s emergence into the nineteenth century was as abrupt as the appearance of Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry in 1853 and, to the insecure autocrats who ruled her, just as unwelcome. Perry and his squadron had come determined to open that strange and inhospitable island empire to the outside world—preferably by treaty but if necessary by force. It was the first of two visits, for he appeared again the following year, and when he had finally departed, treaty in hand, a feudal society that had remained static for centuries would never again be the same.

Though Perry’s expeditions were by no means the first Western attempts to open Japan, they were the most dramatic and timely; undoubtedly that in large part accounted for their success. For in the 1850’s, Japan seethed with unrest. Political and social reforms were long overdue. Since 1635, the dynastic dictatorship known as the Tokugawa shogunate had allowed no citizen to leave the homeland (see “The Ordeal of the Kanrin Maru ,” on page 95); with rare exceptions, foreigners had been forbidden to enter it. In vain did a few far-sighted Japanese press for increased contacts with the outside. Aware of imperialist incursions in India and the Far East, they viewed the end of Japan’s rigid feudal system and the rapid modernization of the country as the price for national survival.

Thus, when Perry made his visits Japan was ripe for change, and the vast throngs which came to watch him seemed to sense the magnitude of the event. The nation clamored for information about the barbarian intruders. Because of severe censorship laws, regular newspapers did not exist. “Only men of low repute engaged in the business,” observed one official source. But for all the risks involved, these “men of low repute” could not resist the temptation to fill a profitable need. Their papers were issued in the form of simple sheets, or handbills, called kawaraban —two of them are reproduced at the left—generally consisting of one or more crude wood-block illustrations and some brief reading matter.

More often than not, it was an outlandish picture of America and Americans that these news sheets presented, sometimes full of delightful and imaginative misinformation. “North America,” to quote one, “lies to the northeast of Japan. A harbor called California is 5,000 ri (12,200 miles) across the sea from Japan. To the north of this harbor is a large city called Washington. Since the foundation of the country 1854 years have elapsed … The name of the king is Burishitonto Hiruraruto Serumore [President Millard Fillmore] …”

By 1859, Japan had opened the ports of Yokohama, Nagasaki, and Hakodate for trade with the West. Yokohama’s growth was especially spectacular. When viewed by Perry’s men in 1854, it was a swampy little fishing village of perhaps a hundred houses, lying just to the south of the shogun’s capital at Yedo—modernday Tokyo. A decade