 Ports of call! Horizons far at the world's end, strange fascinating lands back in us, bid us revel in their exotic splendors. Come with us as we head for Ports of Call. Far away over the western ocean, 5,000 miles down the path of the setting sun, lies a long narrow chain of islands, smiling in green like an emerald diadem for the coast of Asia. We are about to visit the island empire and their beauty surpasses imagination, a lotus land of ancient shrines and temples, the fairy realm of cherry blossoms, Japan. We land at Yokohama, Japan's great modern seaport. I'll say east meets west here. Get a load of that fellow wearing a derby hat and a kimono. Oh please, you mind speaking English with me? Teach our saying in school, breakfast making perfect speaking. We are bewildered by our first glimpse of Japan, this land of miracles. Everywhere about us is an astonishing mixture of last-minute western modernity and age-old oriental customs, ancient temples alongside concrete office buildings, smart Japanese women and talliers from the Rudala Pei hurrayed toward the modern department stores with their sisters and gay kimonas, high glistening papyours and obis, their tiny white stocking feet shuffling along and clattering wooden gaiters. Japan is governed by an enlightened and constitutional monarchy, with a house of peers and a house of representatives. The emperor, known as the Mikado, is the direct descendant of the dynasty which has ruled Japan for 2700 years. For many centuries, the Mikado ruled an undisputed absolute sovereignty. But during the 12th century AD, great powerful families arose and their quarrels and intrigues began to threaten the solidarity of the empire itself. There is grave concern in the palace at Kyoto as the Mikado discusses the rising crisis with his lords. There is trouble and dissension everywhere, Imperial Highness. I know it only too well. There has been civil war since I was a boy and for as long as my father before me could remember. I know. The great families have become too rich, too powerful. Their jealousies keep them constantly quarreling. Their allegiance to me has become weak and I cannot cope with them any longer. May I speak, Imperial Highness? Speak, Yorimoto. Imperial Highness, it is true that the great families have become too powerful and that their jealous quarrels may prove fatal to the empire. Still, there is a way to prevent it. And what is that, Yorimoto? If your Imperial Highness will deign to signal out one of the great families above all others and bestow upon its head your gracious protection, then the others can be brought to reason. That will be difficult and very dangerous. What family would undertake the risk of being exterminated? Your Highness, if you will give me the necessary power, I pledge myself to bring all Japan to order. In what help from me would you need to do this? Your protection and good will. And then I must have control of the civil power of the empire to punish by law and also the military power to compel by force of arms. Very well then, Yorimoto. Your request is granted. You shall henceforth be responsible to no one but me. You have power of life and death over my subjects. You shall have the title of Shogun of Japan. Vigorous warlike Yorimoto made good his promise to the Mikado. Established a stern militaristic regime, bringing internal cohesion again to Japan. The Mikado continued as descendant of the Sun Goddess to be titular head of the empire. But the Shoguns with whom the offer soon became hereditary actually ruled the country through a system of barons called Daimyos. Each of whom had his following of gentlemen warriors, the two sorted samurai. No story is more eloquent of the Japanese ideal of nightly honor which developed during these feudal times than the story of the 47 Ronan, that great national heroic tale of Japan. The scene is a gallery opening on the magnificent gardens of the Shogun's palace at Yedo in the last years of the 17th century. Asano Takumi, baron al-Aqqo in attendance upon the Shogun, is approached by one of the courtiers. Good morning, Kira-san. Have you a moment to spare? Perhaps, but I'm in a hurry. I'm on my way to see the Shogun. They tell me there is an envoy coming from the Mikado. Precisely, and that's what I wanted to speak to you about, Kira. Well, what do you know about it? Well, I do know a little about it. You see, I've been informed that although I am so unworthy, the Shogun has chosen me to receive this envoy. So I wanted to ask... What? You receive the envoy? Well, I have not sought this honour, I assure you. I would be the last to do so. But you see... Yes, I see. I suppose now you want me to tell you the proper etiquette in receiving the envoy, eh? Well, if you don't know, I shall tell you. The idea. What are we coming to when such offices are bestowed upon rustic barons who would be more at home spattering about in their rice paddies than under the same roof with the Shogun? People with a knowledge of the world should be selected for such honours. The farmers should stay in their stables with their water buffaloes. The words are real temperate, Kira. I'm only asking you a courtesy. Courtesy? What do you know about courtesy? You clown. Enough of that, Kira. Enough of another word. You'd best not insult me further. I am a warrior and no little of etiquette. It's true. But I do know the... I, gentlemen, calm yourselves. I do know this, Kira. You insult me thus only because you know very well that a private brawl in the Shogun's palace would disgrace me. Ah, so you do know etiquette and it will help save your face, eh? Come, coward, I'm Mr. Goy. Adjust the strap of my gaiters. Asano, drop your sword. Think this is too much. Here's Count Rudd. Ow! Asano, what have you done in the Shogun's palace? I know. They taunted me beyond my strength and would have killed him had he not run away. But now I'm disgraced. I've shed blood in a private quarrel in the palace. Honor requires that you do away with yourself. Yes. I'm ready to take the consequences. I have been guilty of weakness and discourtesy. You will stay with me until the end, Tommy. You are my friend. I am greatly honored. Very well. Let us make ready. Here is my long sword. Stand over me as I kneel. And if my hand falters, I draw the short sword across my stomach. Tommy, you know what to do. Rely on me, noble Asano. And farewell. Farewell. I go to join my ancestors. And I calmly was present and saw this quarrel as I had described it to you, O followers of Asano. Kira is responsible for your lord's disgrace. Ah, very well. Hear me, comrades. We are now forty-seven running. Forty-seven knights without a leader. I, Oishi, and all of you have followed the noble Asano into many a battle. He was our brave, glorious, and beloved chieftain. Now, through the fault of this cowardly Kira, his valor has been extinguished. I propose that we devote our lives to avenging him. And then, when our work is done, we will pay the price and follow him into the land of shadows. Therefore, if you will bestow upon my unworthy self the task of organizing our revenge, I shall live but to execute it. Very well. Then listen to me. Kira is cowardly, but cunning. He is suspicious. We must be very careful. We will have to wait until he fancies himself secure. We must scatter, disappear. We must slowly gain the confidence of Kira's followers to gain access to him. I, Oishi, Kuro Nozuki, will leave my wife and my family. I will disguise myself and wait until Kira is off his guard. You must do the same. Then we will strike. Do you promise, O 46 Ronin, or masterless men? At last, come. Here is Kira's house. Walk softly, or your steps may be heard in spite of the snow. Our brothers inside the gate are waiting. Open in memory of Osano Avaco. Come, brothers. I will take you to Kira. No use, Kira. Your men have been overpowered. We have waited long for this moment. What? What do you want here? You know what we want. We are the 47 Ronin, the men without a leader. We have come to avenge the death of Osano, Baron Avaco. Make ready. What's that? You can't ask me that. Silence, Kira. You are a nobleman, and your rank compiles you to some consideration. Therefore, you may take your own sword and exercise your own right to commit harakiri. Oh, no. No, no, no. The coward, stop him. He's trying to run away again. Oh, brothers. He does not know how to die. Strike him down. We have avenged our master, Osano. Thus perished Kira. The band of the Ronin cut off his head and carried it in solemn procession to the snow-covered streets of Kyoto. The news of their deed preceded them, but their progress was unchecked. Respectfully, the people watched them pass. They were fulfilling the stern code of their honor, though each one knew his life was to be forfeited. They placed the head of Kira on Osano's tomb, then burned incense and solemnly gave themselves up to the Supreme Court of Yedo. Each one was condemned to do away with himself, and each satisfied the law by committing harakiri. Today, when we visit the tomb of Osano and his followers near Tokyo, we are but a few of the many thousands who yearly visit the last resting place of these heroes of feudal Japan, the 47 Ronin. The chivalrous spirit of the old feudal system still dominates the Japanese. The feudal system itself might still obtain in Japan had it not been for the adroit, tactful diplomacy of an American naval officer, Commodore Matthew C. Perry. For in the 17th century, the Japanese, dissatisfied with their first contacts with the races of Europe, closed the frontiers of their empire to the Occidentals, and for over 200 years, the frontiers remained closed by a rigid policy of voluntary isolation. To punish belief in Christianity, forbidding foreign travel, the study of foreign languages, or the introduction of foreign customs. But Japan's isolation was doomed when Commodore Perry steamed in the Yokohama Harbor in 1854. We're bolted the gangway, Commodore. Come, Mr. Portman. Our commissioner of Japan is waiting for us ashore. Yes, Commodore Perry. Give way together. This is an anxious moment, Mr. Portman. I confess, I feel a bit nervous. The negotiations may prove momentous, Commodore. Yes, indeed. Perhaps none of us realize how important they are. The discovery of gold in California and the commercial development of our west coast make it imperative for us to open new markets in the Pacific. Steam navigations made great progress in the last few years. Our Navy will need cooling stations and the Japanese are beginning to realize that the world is moving on. Something can be done, I am certain. I sincerely hope so. Well, here we are. I must say they look pleasant enough. See how they smile. Very reassuring. It's a good omen, I'm sure. What picturesque costumes. This is indeed a cordial welcome. And now, would you do us the honor of looking at the unworthy presence we dare hope you will have the indulgence to accept? Yes. Here are gold and silver brocades. Here are embroidered socks from Kyoto. And here are rare lacquer from Isikawa. Here now are ancient ceremonial garments. Please, here are paintings by Fukuzai and Furohegi. And here is rice from Emperor's own storehouse. It is all magnificent. I am deeply touched and most grateful. You have shown me the grace and beauty of your marvelous geisha dancing girls and the strength and skill of your powerful wrestlers. And now, if you please, I would like to show you the gifts the West brings to the East. First, this miniature railway. This machine is called the locomotive. It functions by steam, the same power that moves our ships that you see in the harbor. It moves over these iron rails and pulls behind it these coaches, each one of which, in a full-size train, will carry a hundred people. Oh, and it moves by itself? Yes, indeed. With no forces? No men for pushing it? You shall see. I mean, first and start the train. Nice. Oh, that is miraculous invention. Oh, neat things. It is wonderful indeed. But here is something perhaps more wonderful still. It's called a telegram. There is the key and this is the apparatus. From it leads a wire. The wire has been strung into another room. When this man works the little key, a message is sent over the wire and the operator in the other room can receive it. Now, tell me, what shall we send to the other room over this wire? Banzai. Very well. Operator, send Banzai. Now, let us go into the other room. We will find the word Banzai written on the invisible man's pad. Show us your pad, Henderson. There. You see? There is the word Banzai. Oh, this is even more wonderful than train, I thinking. Please be good enough to accept both the train and the telegram. Oh, you are most kind. Your gifts we accept suddenly. We are happy that after all these years we have at last learned of these marvelous inventions. Japan will make good use of them. I am sure you will and I'm very happy to have the honor of introducing them to your wonderful country. Then came the long negotiations concerning the treaty. With infinite tact and patience, the American envoy finally succeeded in signing a mutually satisfactory agreement, which opened after two centuries of complete isolation, three ports, Hagodate, Simoda and Napa to American vessels. With the first barrier thus broken thanks to Commodore Perry, it was not long before the nations of Europe obtained trading privileges in other Japanese ports, and Japan's amazing era of modern development began. Two hours from busy Tokyo encircled by green hills and dotted with curving temple roofs among the somber foliage of the Japanese pine, lies Kamakura, the shrine to one of the world's most famous statues, the great bronze Buddha. Tall trees hide the statue from sight as we approach. We hold our breath with expectation and suddenly the colossal figure appears before us. Oh George, give me your hand. Are you frightened here? No, not frightened, but why it's overwhelming. You know it's as high as a five-story building and made entirely of bronze plates. But they fit it so closely together you can't see the joints. But come on, let's get closer. What a marvelous face, George. Who could be afraid of such a kindly guard? See those half-closed eyes. Why, they're as gentle as a child's. It seems to be the soul of the East. Perhaps that statue explains the calm joyousness of the Japanese as they worship. There seems to be no fear no sorrow. Only gladness. But George, the statue grows bigger and bigger. I have never seen anything like it. And the curls on the head, see them? Yes. The guidebook says they represent snails because Buddha was so kind to all the animals that as he sat in meditation snails crawled up to shield his head from the sun. Oh look, there's a door in the lotus blossom he's sitting on. We can climb up inside as high as the shoulders. There are little windows there. Oh no George, if you don't mind. Let's stay here on the ground. Let's contemplate Buddha from a distance. Somehow I've never felt so peaceful. So happy. I begin to feel that I understand the Japanese a little better now. Beauty will be the word most often on our lips during our stay in Japan. And our hearts will open under its spell like the cherry blossoms which every spring draw millions of these sensitive people to contemplate them in silent rapture. For in no other place on the globe is the cult of the beautiful so highly developed. Come, let's climb aboard a rickshaw for a visit to a tea house nestling in a garden filled with wisteria boom and opening onto a pool filled with lotus blossoms cool and delightful with its arched bridges and stone lanterns. Hovering like a frozen cloud above this fairyland scene is eternal holy Mount Fujiyama. We replace our shoes with felt slippers so as not to soil the spotless rice straw matting and squat on flat cushions before low lacquered tables. Smiling maids, blue black hair piled high up on their slender necks gay kimonas bound with gorgeous sashes deity feet encased in spotless white bring a great number of tiny bowls and set them before us with a low bow. At the same time, three dainty geishas take possession of the veranda. One seats herself and begins to play the long neck three stringed samisen. Two others begin the slow graceful movements of an ancient Japanese dance. Each attitude is a faultless picture. Each gesture a carefully studied symbol. The gold and black bands flutter in their tiny hands. Their baby faces white with rice powder are unspeakably graved. The studied poses bring us the classic poetry of centuries. We divide our attention between the dancers and the contents of the tiny dishes before us. What might this one contain? And this? A right and right one. Pickle radish. Honorable visitor. And this? A baby octopus. And this? A broiled eel. And this? Fried seaweed. This cuisine requires a little practice to appreciate. In the meantime we will concentrate on the rice, the straw colored tea, the warm sake and the sweet meats. Twilight is falling. We leave our rickshaws at the tea house and continue up the hill through the trees. Our feet follow the stone steps which for centuries have led lovers of beauty to the high ridge behind Nagasaki. We pause near a deserted temple and look down at the dream world below us. The twilight deepens. Fireflies begin to glimmer here and there. The horizon is dimmed by successive layers of indigo mist. Above the mist, stars appear. Then a ship comes steaming slowly into the harbor. The magic beauty of Japan holds us enthralled. Near us in the darkness we seem to feel the presence of another watcher. The dainty Madam Butterfly, the little Chocho-san. Over the faint whisper of the pine needles comes her voice. Every day I have watched all day long and into the dark night. Every day since the big white ship sailed away with my handsome officer. It was so long ago. Perhaps he is coming back now. Perhaps the sailors are owing him ashore. Perhaps even now he is hurrying up the hill to me. Listen. Listen. Are those his footsteps? Oh no. It is only a deer in the forest. No. He is not coming. He will never come back. Never. And now we must leave. Leave the lonely shade of Madam Butterfly standing among the trees in her gay kimono. But we hope to return someday to this marvelous land of poetry and beauty. And in the meantime Japan, we thank you for this charming interlude. May the march of progress spare your delightful manners and the picturesque customs which make you the visitors' paradise. May your hospitable people continue to smile their warm hearted welcome. May our friendship with the land of the rising sun steadily deepen and grow stronger in mutual understanding and confidence. Farewell Japan. Dainipan. Hayonara. We invite you to join us again next week in this time as we journey to another of the world's fascinating ports of call.