FIRST DAYS AT THE EMBASSY
Soon after Christmas we left Kyoto for Tokyo. After having been on the
train eighteen days I looked forward with pleasure to being quiet once
more.
At the station we found the members of the American Embassy Staff and
some old Japanese friends waiting to greet us. There were nineteen in
all on the Staff--a larger number than at any other American Embassy. As
we walked down the platform to the carriage, the photographers took
flashlight pictures of the party in quite an up-to-date American
fashion.
We had a house ready for us on our arrival, as the United States owns
the Embassy in Japan. Of course all our embassies and legations and
consulates are considered American territory, but as almost all these
are rented houses, the theory is rather absurd. Years ago, however, the
Government felt that it was necessary to buy land in Japan and Turkey
for embassies and in China for a legation, and this accounts for our
experience.
Congress is not generous in anything which does not concern immediate
home politics. It will not pay for embassies which compare with those of
other nations, as a rule. The one appropriation so far suggested in
Congress for the purchase of five or six embassy buildings is not
sufficient to buy one suitable residence, so the Government would
probably acquire, at best, only a second-rate house, which would make
the American Ambassador second-rate in the eyes of the country to which
he was accredited.
Granting that the Government did acquire a suitable house, however, it
would require an increase in salary to keep it up. Diplomats are obliged
to observe certain standards of living unless they wish to have their
country looked down upon. For instance, in Vienna even the secretaries
must drive in a carriage with a pair--a one-horse conveyance is not
considered suitable for diplomats. On the other hand, as there is no
regular diplomatic service in America, the raising of salaries would
attract a poor class of politicians who would seek foreign posts for the
money that went with them. This happens sometimes in representations
from other countries, but as they have a well-organized service it does
not occur very often.
From the outside the Embassy in Tokyo looks rather like an American
summer hotel--a large white house with green blinds, of no particular
style and somewhat old and ramshackle. I was told that it had to be
built of wood on account of earthquakes; it certainly had great cracks
in the walls. It had been newly painted in honour of our arrival, and
looked fairly well on the outside, comparing favourably with some of the
other embassies: the English, German and Austrian are perhaps better,
and the French are to build an ambitious new one. The Dutch and the
Brazilians were our nearest diplomatic neighbours; the former have a
very nice compound on a hill near-by, and although the house is not
large it is filled with beautiful curios. Our own Embassy was shabby,
but we found it rather nice and comfortable, after all; it was one of
the few houses in Tokyo that had a furnace, which is a rare luxury in
Japan.
[Illustration: THE AMERICAN EMBASSY, TOKYO.]
The embassies are scattered about on commanding hills in different parts
of the city, as the land was bought at various times by their respective
governments. At one time Tsukiji was the only part down by the river
where foreigners who were not officials were allowed to live, but I
believe they may now rent houses in any section of Tokyo.
Our compound was on the slope of a hill in a district called Akasaka. It
covered about two acres and contained, besides the Embassy and the
chancery and the servants' quarters connected with it, a stable and two
bungalows. One of the bungalows was for the First Secretary, the other
for the First Japanese Secretary, who was not a Japanese but an American
who had mastered the language.
The compound itself, in which all the buildings stand, is really a
garden, with cherries and plums and twisted trees, an arbour of
wisteria, and, of course, a little pond and bridge. The snow that came
several times during the winter only added to its charm, making of it a
place where sprites would have loved to dance.
The front door of the Embassy opened into a large hall with a staircase
at one side. On the left was the Ambassador's private office, which
connected directly with the chancery offices, while on the right was a
small reception-room with an open fire. I often received guests in this
room for tea; it was done in green and had Japanese brasses and prints
upon the walls. Opening out of it was another small parlour done in pink
and white, with rows of books about; from this one entered a
drawing-room with red brocade on the walls, heavy furniture, and a
piano. This led in turn into a large dining-room, finished in white,
with an enclosed veranda outside.
Up-stairs there were four bedrooms, a library, and a long enclosed
balcony into which the sun poured all the morning. The bedrooms were
large and barn-like, but with the aid of Japanese crêpes and rugs they
came to look quite attractive.
The place which I liked best of all was a writing-room on the veranda.
On a table covered with a blue and white Chinese cloth stood a small
_hibachi_, a fire-box for warming the hands, made of hammered brass,
with fantastic chrysanthemums and leaves. There were also a long Korean
pipe and a shorter Japanese one, as well as a gun-metal box that we had
bought in Kyoto, inlaid with a crouching gold tiger. On the wall were
red and green prints. Pottery and baskets with plants in them, and a
bowl of goldfish, completed the decorations of this little den.
A few stray pieces of furniture, rather the worse for wear, were the
only things owned by the Government, but we had arranged to rent the
furnishings of my husband's predecessor. Fortunately these were
attractive things, so that the house was ready for use upon our arrival.
It is much harder than one would imagine, even to-day, to get things in
Japan for European houses. The foreign shops which had European
furniture to sell charged well for it, and did not have much that was in
good taste.
During the first few days we were busy unpacking our belongings--some
old Japanese screens that had travelled round the world back to Japan
with us, a few rugs, and our linen and silver. We weeded out the things
we did not especially care for in the house, and picked up here and
there some interesting prints and curios. It was said to be the moment
to purchase porcelains that were coming out of China, and as Jaehne, an
American dealer in Tokyo, came back with some good things, we bought a
few. With these, and with the enchanting little dwarf trees in bloom,
the Embassy soon looked homelike and pretty.
We had already engaged in advance the Japanese servants. These live in
the Embassy compound, and many of them are passed on from one Ambassador
to the next. Their quarters are connected with the Embassy house, and
they sometimes invite their relations to live with them, so that often
fifty or more persons may be found there. As they both eat and sleep
upon their mats and are very quiet, one would never know they were in
the compound at all.
Watanabe and Dick, with the little maids, all wore Japanese costumes.
Watanabe, the "head boy," or butler, had been in the Embassy for
thirty-five years, and had entire charge of the housekeeping
arrangements. He was head of the "Boys' Guild" of Tokyo, and an
important person. Dick was the only one of the servants who had been in
America, although the cook had been in France, and O Sawa, the maid, had
been to China and the Philippines.
[Illustration: JAPANESE SERVANTS.]
Every morning the cook sent up a French menu for approval. European
food, as prepared by the Japanese, is really very good. Turtle, served
in American fashion, is quite as palatable as our terrapin, and the
"mountain whale," or wild boar, is a real delicacy. (In olden times the
Buddhists were not supposed to eat meat, and because it was difficult
for the people of the mountains to get to the sea for fish the priests
allowed them to eat the wild boar on the hills, but called it "mountain
whale!") Some of the meat used in the city comes from Australia, as does
also the canned butter. Cows are few, but we were able to get our own
milk and butter from a local dairy. My husband is very fond of Japanese
food, and as I like it too, often of an evening when we were alone or
had friends who also enjoyed it, we would have Japanese dinners at the
Embassy, served upon the table but in the pretty lacquer bowls on little
lacquer trays. Eels with rice and _soy_ was a favourite dish.
I used to enjoy sitting in the den and listening to the street noises,
they were so strange and interesting. There were the songs of men
carrying heavy loads, and the bells of the men who, in the winter, run
from temple to temple, almost naked, and have cold water poured over
them, as a penance. There was the fanfare of the soldiers, too,
something like that of the Italians, and the flute of the blind masseur,
and the steady whistle of the man who cleans the pipes of smokers. The
newsboys all wore bells, and the people selling wares often had little
drums which they beat.
When not listening to the sounds outside, I often used to sit and look
into the bowl of glistening water where the goldfish lived, for they
quite fascinated me, with their jawless chins, which they kept opening
and shutting for food in such a greedy manner! The swish of their tails
was like the grace of a trailing kimono worn by the ladies of long ago,
while their fins suggested the sleeves of a _geisha_ girl. Some of them
had popping eyes that stared at you, some were so fat that they swam
upside down quite comfortably. They would rush from one side of the bowl
to the other, pushing their noses up close against the glass, as if they
were eager to swim out of their lovely opalescent world. Many humans
live in a world not very much larger than a goldfish's bowl, and never
try to get out at all!
Of an evening one heard the notes of the _samisen_, an instrument like a
small-headed banjo, made of catskin and having three strings. Japanese
music is minor, and being in half tones, which our ear is not trained to
appreciate, sounds very strange, and to many even uncouth. None of it is
written--the songs are simply passed on from one to another. Although so
many Europeans do not care for this music, I find it very fascinating.
But our ideas of what is beautiful are bound to differ. Watanabe caught
a nightingale in the Embassy garden by means of a spider, and put it in
a cage in the house. It had several notes, not all very pleasant, I must
admit, but I suppose it was a compliment when he told some one, after
having heard me sing, "Bird's high note just like Madam!"
In the silence of the night, one also heard the clack, clack of the
watchman at a house near-by, who beat two sticks together so that his
master might hear and know that he was keeping watch. Besides this,
there was the squeaking of rats, the meow of our cat, or the barking of
a dog. It must have been this same dog, by the way, who came to such an
untimely end while we were there.
"Have you heard the news?" one of the secretaries asked one morning.
"Why, no--what is it?" I inquired.
"Perhaps you may remember that the Embassy dog barked so much that our
neighbours complained and we had to give him away. Some _geishas_ took
him, but he still came back to visit us."
"Yes," I interrupted, "he comes back at night--I've heard him!"
"He did come back--but alas! he never will again. That is the news--we
found him dead in the garden this morning. His funeral procession has
just gone down the street, the _geishas_ following the corpse in their
'rickshas."
"A dog's funeral! How funny!"
"Not so funny as something that happened not very long ago, when the
local veterinary died," the Secretary assured me; "our Embassy dog was
invited to attend his funeral. Of course we sent him, and he rode in
state in the first 'ricksha behind the body, followed by other dogs of
lesser rank, each riding in its master's carriage."
Occasionally there would be the tremor of an earthquake. But most of the
shocks are slight--so slight that one doesn't often feel them. Having
been born and brought up on made land in the Back Bay of Boston, where
every team shakes the house, I did not notice one all the time I was in
Tokyo. I had to take the tremors on hearsay.
Tokyo is considered cold in winter. It has a chill wind, but not so bad
as the east wind in Boston. The climate might, perhaps, compare with
Washington, but as the houses are so lightly built, and the people live
upon the floor with little heat, the Japanese suffer a great deal from
the cold. It had always been thought too severe in Tokyo for the
Emperor, who as Crown Prince used to go to the seashore during the
winter months, but this year, having become Emperor on the death of his
father, he was obliged to stay in town. Miss Hyde has perhaps the most
attractive house and garden that I saw in Tokyo. The garden was small,
but you entered under a _torii_ gate, and found a bronze Buddha calmly
sitting beneath a tree. Indoors, Miss Hyde had decorated some of the
_shoji_, the sliding screens, with pretty, laughing Japanese children.
Her wood cuts of these children, by the way, are enchanting. The day we
lunched with her the table was charmingly arranged, with little dolls
among the flowers carrying lighted egg-shell lanterns.
[Illustration: "SECRET."--WOOD-CUT BY MISS HYDE.]
The different members of the Staff were very kind in welcoming us by
dinners given in our honour. Each entertainment had a new feature
introduced. Some of the "boys" are very clever in arranging miniature
landscapes on the table, or dwarf box-gardens. Often electric lights are
introduced among the flowers. Japanese fingers are so deft that the
results are marvellous. At one dinner to which we went, the guests found
little lanterns with their names on them, and sat under a huge,
wide-spread Japanese umbrella. On many occasions the place-cards were
charmingly painted. One was repeatedly fascinated by the fairy-like
scenes that were set on the tables. After dinner we often had music or
bridge--every Saturday night a certain set met for bridge at the Italian
Embassy, and on another evening at the Austrian.
One night, in the middle of a dinner, we heard great shouting outside.
It sounded like a college cry in Japanese and ended up with "_Banzai
Taishikwan_!" The latter word means ambassador. _Banzai_ is often used
as a toast--Good luck to you!--but literally translated, means, "Hurrah!
Ten thousand years!"
At a dinner one evening, we met two Japanese ladies, sisters, who were
dressed alike in black kimonos with white dots to represent a
snowstorm--a design especially appropriate for winter; superb silver
sashes embroidered with black crows completed their costumes. At this
dinner an Italian tenor sang delightfully. For souvenirs we were given
charming lacquer _saké_ cups.
We ordered as mementoes for our dinners at the Embassy small silver
boxes with the American eagle upon them. At Japanese dinners they often
give you exquisite lacquer cups or black lacquer boxes with decorations
in gold, tied with bright cord, or silver knickknacks made in artistic
designs. They are sometimes put on the table in their boxes in front of
you, or passed on a tray, uncovered, as is done at Court, at the end of
the repast, so that you may pick out the object you prefer. It was said
that the late Emperor himself used to design the tokens which were used
on the Imperial table. The little souvenirs are admired and greatly
treasured, both by the Japanese themselves and by foreigners, some of
whom have really beautiful collections which are displayed with pride on
the tables in their salons.
Shopping in Japan is always a leisurely affair. It is fascinating to go
into the queer, pretty little shops with their soft mats, and to enter
the attractive courtyards. If the dealer thinks you are sufficiently
appreciative, he will take out of his _godown_ or treasure-house a blue
and white vase, or a peachblow, and will sit on the mat handling it
tenderly while you drink a cup of tea or smoke a tiny pipe, as you
choose. One may spend days in such a curio shop, discussing the beauty
of a vase, admiring the bronzes, and finally, perhaps, settling upon a
price! It is very exciting when the silken handkerchief is being unwound
from some treasure, and you see the beautiful thing at last, for you
never can tell whether it is going to be a little bronze or a piece of
ivory, or smooth lacquer. We knew enough to make the dealer go deep into
his _godown_ before we began to talk or bargain, for they don't trouble
to bring out their best things unless you insist. When you have seen the
really good work you wonder how you ever looked at the _muki_[2] which
was displayed at first.
[2] Cheap articles made for foreign trade.
After luncheon our drawing-room would fairly seethe with dealers, who
came to show us their curios both old and new, which they laid out on
the furniture or the floor, as it happened. They brought lacquer boxes
and porcelains to tempt the eye, and innumerable wood cuts of doubtful
quality.
Not only the old curios, but the modern articles made for foreigners,
are very attractive, but dealers only make one or two of the same kind,
so it is often impossible to duplicate even the simplest household
things. Besides the silver tea and coffee sets, there are silk
articles--stockings, handkerchiefs, and crêpes of all kinds, beautifully
embroidered--while the modern porcelains are both charming and cheap.
But one finds most of these modern things in America now. The old
Japanese curios that are really good cost more than ever, and are every
year more difficult to find.
The culture pearls are especially attractive, and only the Japanese
produce them. The oyster must be three years old when it is opened and a
piece of mother-of-pearl inserted. This causes an irritation, which
forms a pearl in about four years. They are often coloured pink or blue
by injecting chemicals, but as they are rather flat on one side they do
not bring the prices of natural pearls.
It is possible to buy some furs which are rarely seen in America--the
long-haired rabbit, the badger, and slippers made of monkey-skin.
Wherever we went, we were advised to buy our furs elsewhere. China is,
of course, noted for its skins--the long white goat and the leopard
being among the best--but we were told not to buy in China because,
although furs were cheap there, they were not well cured. In Russia we
were warned not to buy them because they were so costly, but to wait
till we reached Germany, where they are both well-cured and inexpensive.
I must confess that we bought in all places, however, and found them
generally satisfactory. While the Japanese furs are not so cheap as the
Chinese, they are cheaper than the Russian and are well cured.
The main shopping street of Tokyo, the "Ginza," is very broad and has
the most prominent stores. Some of these look quite as modern as those
on Broadway and are several stories high--a great contrast to the little
wooden houses about them. One finds to-day in the city a great many wide
spaces and parks that did not exist a few years ago, but, of course,
many of the streets are still narrow and picturesque.
One lovely late afternoon, when there was a silver half-moon swimming in
the sky, I went for a walk with Osame through the city streets, which
are a continuous bazaar. We turned aside into little narrow ways, lined
with bamboo fences with quaint gates, inside of which were glimpses of
pretty gardens with gravel approaches and gnarled pine-trees, and of
little houses with overhanging roofs that threatened to tumble over with
their own weight. In front of the houses hung lanterns with characters
which Osame translated for me. Here was the house of a "Teacher of the
Tea Ceremony," there lived a "Teacher of Flower Arrangement;" each tiny
dwelling bore the name of its owner--and often his telephone number!--on
a little wooden slab tacked on the gate-post. It was all so typical and
so characteristic--so different from a street anywhere else in the
world. We came to a hill and passed up long flights of steps, coming to
a temple on the summit which is as quiet and solemn as if it were miles
from anywhere. Then we went down again, by another long flight of
stairs, into a busy district, past many pretty tea-houses in which
_geishas_ live, and so out into the more respectable quarter of the
Embassy. When my husband was here twenty-five years ago, much of this
thickly settled part of the city was all paddy-fields.
Some of the signs on the streets, written in English "as it is Japped,"
used to be very funny, but the Government has tried to do away with the
amusing ones, so that to-day they are seldom seen in the city, though
one runs across them now and then in the country. "The efficacy of this
beer is to give the health and especially the strength for stomach. The
flavour is so sweet and simple in here if much drink," was one of them,
I remember. A tailor of uniforms had on his sign, "Gold Tail Shop,"
while another shop assured the passer-by that "The tas [tea] are restful
and for sharpen the minds." Cigarettes are driving out the native
tobacco; a brand is advertised as being "very fragrant except a bad
smell." One sign insisted that within could be produced "wine, beer, and
others!"
The days at the Embassy passed very pleasantly. Afternoons and evenings
were filled with social duties, but the mornings I was free to spend as
I chose. Mrs. Caldwell, wife of one of the Staff, and I found the
Japanese toys so fascinating that we could hardly tear ourselves away
from the shops. Madame Van Royen, the American wife of the Dutch
Minister, and I had several automobile rides together. Mrs. Caldwell and
I played tennis and sang duets, and sometimes of a morning I would have
a walk with one of the secretaries.
There was always plenty of sight-seeing to be done whenever we had any
spare time. It was a happy surprise not to find more changes in the
outward appearance of the country and of the people since my earlier
visits. The hotels throughout the country are more comfortable, however,
and the European food better. The _naisans_ (maids) and _geisha_ girls
speak a little English now, which they could not do a few years ago. In
many of the towns the streets are wider and are bright with electric
lights, while electric cars and motors are quite popular, and even
flying-machines are to be seen. The cities are more sanitary than they
were, too, although even now an occasional case of cholera is
discovered, and foreigners are still careful not to eat uncooked food.
The yellow journals of both America and Japan have been active in trying
to stir up trouble between the two countries. When we were in Japan
fifteen years ago, some of our papers said that foreigners were in
danger there, but we never saw then, or while my husband was Ambassador,
any rudeness or threat of violence. Lately, owing to the California
trouble, I understand that some rude speeches have been made, and some
writing has appeared on the Embassy wall. When we were there with the
American Secretary of War on our way to the Philippines, no people could
have showed greater good-will than the Japanese Government expressed in
every way to our party, which represented the United States.
To return to the streets--although one sees many carriages and a few
motors, the man-drawn jinrikisha is still the most popular conveyance; a
few years ago there were forty thousand of them in Tokyo alone. The
runners can jog along at a good six miles an hour, and can keep up the
pace for a long distance. With a leader or pusher, or with three men, as
many as ninety miles can be made in a day. As Tokyo is almost as
wide-spreading as London, an automobile is a convenience in returning
visits, notwithstanding the narrowness of the streets, in which people
walk and children play. Pedestrians pay little attention to the warning
of the automobile horn, perhaps owing to the whistles and horns of the
dealers and the other noises of the busy streets.
There are some large new brick buildings in Tokyo, and a new railway
station is being built. Some of the European government buildings are
quite handsome, as well as very large and imposing--they would look big
anywhere, whether one admired their architecture or not. There are also
two large European hotels, and a good bank.
[Illustration: SHIBA PARK, TOKYO.]
Shiba Park is not very far from the Embassy. People go there to see the
Shiba Temples, which were built in honour of the sixth, seventh, and
ninth shoguns. As usual, one enters through a _torii_, or gateway, into
a paved courtyard, and takes off one's shoes before going into the
temple.
In feudal times, when the Shogun came to worship the spirits of his
ancestors, he alone ascended to the sanctum of the temple, the _daimyos_
seating themselves next to him in the corridor below, while the rest of
the nobility occupied the oratory.
The lacquer in these temples is perhaps the most beautiful that I saw in
Japan, and the carvings are superb. In many places one sees the
three-leafed asarum, which is the crest of the Tokugawa family, and the
lotus, the Buddhist emblem of purity.
Behind the temples are the stone tombs with their bronze lanterns; the
newest one bears the date 1877, and is the burial place of the present
Emperor's great-aunt. Near the tombs can be seen the imprint of Buddha's
feet, which must have been of phenomenal size!
One day we went over the Osaka Museum, which has probably more Buddhas
than any other museum in the world. It is a private collection near the
Embassy, and contains some superb red lacquers, all very well arranged.
It was interesting to note that the porcelains were tied to the shelves,
on account of earthquakes.
One of the most popular resorts, Uyeno Park, which is well known for its
temples and the tombs of the shoguns, is on very high ground and has a
fine view. An immense stone lantern--one of the three largest in
Japan--is there, and also an ancient pagoda and some fine cryptomerias.
During the season people visit this park in hundreds to see the cherry
blossoms.
The tombs of the Forty-Seven Ronins must be visited, so much has been
written about the brave band, and their dramatic story is so often told
in Japan. Under the huge cryptomerias on the side of a hill, one comes
to the many stone lanterns surrounding a sort of court, where their
admirers still place lighted incense sticks and leave their visiting
cards on the dead heroes. By the path leading to the tombs the well
where the Ronins washed the head of their victim still exists.
Briefly told, their story is as follows: In April of the year 1701,
Asano, Lord of Ako, while in Tokyo with the Shogun, was asked to arrange
one of the great State ceremonies. Now, Asano was a warrior, and knew
little of such matters, so he questioned a nobleman named Kira, who was
well versed in Court etiquette. It did not occur to Asano that he was
expected to pay for the information, and when he failed to do so, Kira
jeered at him, and one day insulted him by asking him to fasten his
_tabi_, or footgear. Stirred to anger, Asano drew his sword and slashed
the nobleman, without, however, killing him.
Unfortunately, this happened in the palace grounds. To fight in such a
sacred place is a crime, and Asano was told that as a punishment he must
perform _hara-kiri_, which he immediately did. Asano's castle was
confiscated and his family declared extinct, so that his faithful
retainers became _ronin_, or "wave men"--wanderers.
Oishi, the head retainer, consulted with forty-six of the most trusted
of the band, and they swore vengeance on Kira, who had brought about
their master's death. In time the forty-six became trades-people, while
Oishi himself pretended dissipation in order to put Kira off the track.
But they did not forget their oath of vengeance, and two years later,
during a severe snowstorm, the Forty-Seven Ronins made an attack upon
Kira and his retainers, and succeeded in vanquishing them.
As Kira was a great noble, he was given the privilege of performing
_hara-kiri_, but he was afraid to kill himself, and so Oishi murdered
him. As the Forty-Seven Ronins marched through the streets with the head
of their enemy, the people came out of their houses and cheered. Oishi
laid Kira's head upon the grave of Asano. Official sentence condemned
all the Ronins to commit _hara-kiri_,[3] and they have been worshipped
as heroes ever since.
[3] _Hara-kiri_ is an honourable form of capital punishment, is
also a popular method of suicide. The man who is about to
die invites his friends to share in a farewell feast. Robed
in white, he takes leave of them and enters a screened
enclosure, where he proceeds to disembowel himself with a
knife. A friend who acts as a sort of second stands by and
with a keen sword puts an end to his agony by cutting off
his head.