Some photos of Japan's 1862 embassy to Europe were recently uncovered in Utrecht. This shot of Yukichi Fukuzawa peering down the road, sword in hand, seems to fit the following extract from The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa (tr. Eiichi Kiyooka, Columbia University Press, 1966), pages 235-8:
Here is an amusing tale of a dramatic encounter of a much earlier period, coming in the third or fourth year of Bunkyū (1863-1864). There was a hatamoto named Fujisawa Shima-no Kami who lived in Rokkembori of Fukagawa. He was a general in the army of the Shōgun and a great enthusiast for foreign ways. One day he held a party at his residence and invited several of the scholars of foreign culture, including Koide Haima-no Kami and Narushima Ryūhoku and other doctors of Dutch medicine. I was also there among the seven or eight guests.
This was in the dangerous period when I did not venture out at all in the evenings. And I was taking particular care to keep my swords well polished. The party was very pleasant, and we kept on talking in spite of ourselves until it was nearly twelve at night. Then suddenly all the guests began to wonder about going home. Not that we had any guilty conscience, but in those days the scholars of foreign culture were all out of favor with the society at large.
Our host rose to the emergency and hired a covered boat for us on the neighboring river. In this craft we were to be carried to various parts of the city along the rivers and canals. Those who lived near by got off first, and one by one as the boat came to the vicinity of a home, someone landed. Finally an old doctor named Totsuka and myself were landed at Shimbashi. Totsuka went in the direction of Azabu and I was to walk to my place in Shinsenza.
It was a walk of a little less than a mile. The time had already turned an hour past midnight -- a cold and clear winter night with the moon shining brightly overhead. Its silent, white beams made me feel unusually chilly for no good reason. I walked along the broad, vacant street -- no one in sight, absolutely still. Yet I remembered that strolling ruffians had been appearing every night, cutting down unfortunate victims at dark corners. I tucked up the wide ends of my divided skirts in order to be ready to run at any signal and kept up a fast pace.
As I was passing Gensuke-chō, or thereabouts, I saw a man coming toward me. He looked gigantic in the moonlight though now I would not swear to his stature at all. On came the giant. Nowadays there are police to depend upon, or we can run into someone's house for protection, but at that time no such help was to be expected. People would only bar their doors more heavily and would never think of coming out to assist a stranger calling for help.
"Now, here is a pretty pass," I thought. "I cannot run back, for the rascal would only take advantage of my weakness and chase me more surely. Perhaps I had better go ahead. And if I go ahead, I must pretend not to be afraid. I must even threaten him."
I moved out diagonally to the middle of the street from the left side where I had been walking. Then the other fellow moved out too. This gave me a shock, but now there was no retreating an inch. If he were to draw, I must draw too. As I had practiced the art of iai, I knew how to handle my sword.
"How shall I kill him? Well, I shall give a thrust from below."
I was perfectly determined that I was going to fight and felt ready if he showed the slightest challenge. He drew nearer.
I really hated the idea of injuring a man -- I could not stand seeing a man hurt, much less doing the injury myself. But now there seemed no alternative. If the stranger were to show any offense, I must kill him. At that time there was no such thing as police or criminal court. If I were to kill an unknown man, I would simply run home, and that would be the end of it. We were about to meet.
Every step brought us nearer, and finally we were at a striking distance. He did not draw. Of course I did not draw either. And we passed each other. With this as a cue, I ran. I don't remember how fast I ran. After going a little distance, I turned to look back as I flew. The other man was running too, in his direction. I drew a breath of relief and saw the funny side of the whole incident. A coward had met a coward as in a farce. Neither had the least idea of killing the other; each had put up a show of boldness in fear of the other. And both ran at the same moment. To be killed in such a juncture would really have been a "dog's death." He must have been frightened; I certainly was.
I wonder where this man is today. Though the incident occurred thirty odd years ago, he might easily be living still, for he looked quite young. I should like to meet him and talk over that night when two frightened men came so boldly up to each other on the moonlit road in the first hour of the morning.
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