They must first lie to the foreigners and make them believe that the Shō-gun was a Tai-kun and had imperial power. This done, they would then have the chronic task of articulating lie after lie to conceal from prying eyes the truth that the Yedo government was a counterfeit and subordinate. The Shō-gun was no emperor at all, and what would they do if the hairy devils should take a notion to go to Kiōto? They could not resist the big ships and men, and yet they knew not what demands the greedy aliens would make. They had no splendid war vessels as in Taikō’s time, when the keels of Japan ploughed every sea in Asia and carried visitors to Mexico, to India, to the Phillipines. No more, as in centuries ago, were their sailors the Northmen of the sea, able to make even the coasts of China and Corea desolate, and able to hurl back the Mongol armada of Kubhlai Khan. Then should the Americans land, and, by dwelling in it, defile the Holy Country, the strain upon the government to keep the foreigners within bounds and to hold in the Yedo cage the turbulent daimiōs would be too great. Already many of the vassals of Tokugawa were in incipient rebellion. If Japan were opened, they would have a pretext for revolt, and would obey only the imperial court in Kiōto. The very existence of the Tokugawa family would then be jeoparded. If they made a treaty, the “mikado-reverencers” would defy the compact, since they knew that the Tycoon was only a daimiō of low rank with no right to sign. In vain had the official censors purged the writings of historical scholars. Political truth was leaking out fast, and men’s eyes were being opened. In vain were the prisons taxed to hold in the whisperers, the thinkers, the map-makers, the men who believed the country had fallen behind, and that only the Mikado restored to ancient authority could effect improvement. Finally, two daimiōs were appointed to receive the letter. Orders were given to the clans and coast daimiōs to guard the most important strategic positions fronting the bay of Yedo, lest the foreigners should proceed to acts of violence. Several thousands of troops were despatched in junks to the earth forts along the bay of Yedo. Meanwhile Perry, the Lord of the Forbidden Interior, had allowed no Japanese to gaze upon his face. The buniō had held several consultations with the Admiral’s subordinates, had been shown the ship and appointments, and had tasted the strangers’ diet. The barbarian pudding was delicious. The liquors were superb. One glass of sugared brandy made the whole western world kin. The icy armor of reserve was shuffled off. The august functionary became jolly. “Naruhodo” and “tai-hen” dropped from his lips like minted coins from a die. So happy and joyful was he, that he forgot, while his veins were warm, that he had not gained a single point, while the invisible Admiral had won all.