The People entertain the Mikado and General Ulysses Grant—Return to San
Francisco.
H.B.M. LEGATION, TOKIO,
_August 26, 1879_.
MY DEAR FAMILY—My last letter to you was begun on the summit of
Fujiyama. Now this, my very last letter from Japan, is to tell you about
a very remarkable festival, which really will rank as quite an
historical event, being the first time that the Child of the Sun (the
Mikado) has been known to appear openly at any mere festivity, though he
has recently shown himself at some official ceremonies.
This was a grand entertainment at which the Mikado was the guest of his
people, and which was got up in order to show General Ulysses Grant of
America something of real old Japanese feats of arms. It was held in the
great park of Uyeno, which is at all times exceedingly beautiful, but is
now decorated like some fairy scene, while the masses of foliage make a
grand background for the countless thousands of Japanese spectators.
Sir Harry Parkes most considerately invited me to stay at the Legation,
and of course being his guest ensured my seeing everything to
perfection. And truly it is something to have seen the Son of Heaven,
that “spiritual Emperor” concerning whose hidden radiance we used to
hear such vague, misty statements, and who, only ten years ago, was
still considered too sacred for mortal eyes to look upon. I only wish we
could have seen him and all the Imperial Princes and great nobles in
their beautiful national dress, instead of the European uniform and
cocked hat which is so very unbecoming to them all.
Truth to say, personal beauty is not the strong point of the Emperor
Mutsuhito. He is a man of middle height (perhaps five feet eight), very
pale, with clear, dark eyes, well-shaped brow, and a slight moustache
and imperial. It is a very earnest, grave, sad face for so young a man
(he is only about thirty), but this is fully accounted for by all the
tremendous changes through which he has already passed, and in which he
has borne his part so wisely.
Moreover, he has had his full share of domestic trials, all his children
having died almost at their birth—a serious matter to the direct
descendant of the Sun-Goddess, who has not only to transmit this high
lineage to another generation, but also to raise up sons who can carry
on the ancestral worship. I was told last year that additions have
recently been made to the Imperial household, after the manner of
Jacob’s domestic circle, in the hopes that as Leah and Rachel were
provided with sons by proxy, so may the Empress Haruku be blessed.[68]
It was very touching to notice the appearance of extreme reverence with
which the assembled crowds awaited the moment when they might for one
moment look upon the sacred form of their Emperor. In those vast
multitudes all were quiet and orderly; they had decorated the city for
miles in his honour, and now they were waiting in breathless expectation
for his coming.
At several points he halted to receive addresses, but the chief interest
centred at one spot where many thousands of his oldest subjects, seated
on the ground, waited to do homage to their Imperial master. Two
thousand four hundred persons upwards of eighty years of age had been
gathered together from every corner of Tokio, and on each was bestowed a
gift in memory of this wonderful day—the very first occasion when a
Mikado had ever been entertained by his subjects.
What strange memories must have passed through the minds of many of this
great company of octogenarians, recollecting the marvellous waves of
change that have passed over the land since their early days—the tides
of war, the oppressive feudalism, the all-pervading military element,
the jealous exclusion of all foreign influence—and now, to see the
stupendous honours showered on a foreigner who was not even noble by
birth, simply an American citizen, but now received by the sacred Son of
Heaven as one for whom he could scarcely sufficiently mark his esteem,
and whose counsel he even deigned to seek.
Every street through which the honoured guests were expected to pass is
so decorated as to be equally attractive by day and by night. Thousands
of flags float from the eaves, showing the Rising Sun of Japan in
scarlet or crimson on a white ground, or _vicé-versâ_. All the principal
buildings, and various triumphal arches, are adorned with tiers of
bright paper lanterns, all of the same colour, with the same emblem,
while on either side of the streets, for a distance of several miles,
light fences have been erected, from which hang continuous rows of
lanterns, all alike representing the rising sun. In some places three or
four such rows are suspended, one above the other, and the effect
produced is excellent. These decorations extend in one direction for
four miles, all the way to the Shin Bashi (_i.e._ the new bridge), near
the railway station, and also the whole distance to the palace where
General Grant is living.
In Uyeno Park the lanterns are even more numerous and their decorative
effect far greater, for they hang in clusters of bright crimson from the
boughs of all the grand old trees, as if we had been transported to some
fairyland full of Christmas-trees, all laden with strange, jewelled
fruit. I am told that there are upwards of seventy thousand lanterns in
Uyeno Park alone! Here, too, there are light, airy fences to support the
long lines of lanterns which seem suspended in mid-air, and which are so
hung as to cross and recross one another again and again. This is a very
pretty device, all the more charming because so simple. At one point
there is a gigantic sun, entirely composed of crimson lanterns.
The great feature of the day was a grand tournament, at which some of
the old feudal sports were revived. Sad to say, these picturesque relics
of a PAST (which only ten years ago was THE PRESENT) are so rapidly
fading away that we were told there had been considerable difficulty in
finding men who were competent to exhibit their skill, so quickly has
their right hand forgot its cunning in these new utilitarian days when
every man must work hard for his daily bread. We were told that some of
those whose feats so amazed us all, had to be sought for amongst the
working population, and some were earning their living by hard toil,
running in the shafts of jinrikshas. Yet one and all ranked as
Hatamotos—that is to say, retainers of the Shogun—and as such were but a
few years ago entitled to lord it over all the civilians and burghers of
the city.
It is greatly to be feared that when these few men have passed away, the
last traces of old Japan and its chivalry will finally fade from the
earth. So I felt that I was indeed fortunate to have this opportunity of
even a glimpse of this ghost of olden days.
We were conducted to excellent seats in the grand stand, very near that
centre of light where (in a pavilion draped with stars and stripes,
mingled with rising suns, which also floated overhead) the Child of the
Sun and the Wellington of America sat together to witness the feats of
arms. These commenced with various fencing matches, which were only
remarkable for the real old Japanese dresses of the fencers, and the
hearty goodwill with which they smote one another with their spears, all
the time growling like wild beasts. Then we were shown how women used to
fight, some carrying a net, others a rope attached to a stone ball,
which they could fling round an adversary’s neck and so lasso him.
Happily all who took part in this great tournament wore the picturesque
dresses which have so recently been discarded. Close to us were a group
of men in antique yellow dress, with quaint, tall, dark head-dress, and
many others equally interesting. Just as the feats of arms began, the
essentially foreign band struck up, “Voici le sabre de mon père,” which
was certainly appropriate.
By far the most interesting feature of the day was the archery, which
was so accurate as to be quite wonderful. The archers were all mounted
on swift horses, with gay trappings, and enormous stirrups shaped like a
heavy wooden _sâbot_, but beautifully lacquered. The riders wore rich
dresses of various gay colours, and the wide trousers of the old
Samurai, over which fall large flaps of deer or tiger-skin, the latter
denoting high rank. Very wide-brimmed hats completed the costume, and
looked exceedingly uncomfortable as they were blown backward by the
wind.
At intervals round the course were placed men dressed in white, like
Shinto priests (probably they _were_ priests, as archery, like
wrestling, is so often connected with religious festivals), in charge of
three diamond-shaped targets. The archers approached one by one, their
horses naturally falling into a swinging gallop. Each rider stood erect
in his great stirrups, with bow bent and arrow poised, not pointing
ahead of him, but sideways, and at the very instant he passed the first
target, the shaft flew from the bow so swiftly that we literally could
not see its course, but in the twinkling of an eye, a shower of bright
fragments of sparkling tinsel fell from the split target, proving to all
far and near how true had been the archer’s aim.
As the horse galloped on, the archer snatched a second arrow from the
quiver which hung behind his shoulders, poised it, and again at the very
second of passing the second target the arrow flew, swift and unerring,
and again a shower of glittering tinsel certified his skill to the
unnumbered thousands of spectators, who had closed in around the course
like a living amphitheatre, and whose applause now rent the air.
Still the good steed, with neck outstretched, held on his headlong
career, the rider apparently paying no heed whatever to its guidance,
but keeping his own face turned at a right angle, while he rapidly
poised a third arrow, and once more drawing his bow, at the very instant
of passing the third target, a glittering shower once again proved to
the gazing multitude how infallible was his aim. Again thunders of
applause proved that the old intense sympathy with all knightly feats of
arms is not yet extinct in the hearts of the people.
As the first archer rode off the course he was succeeded by several
others; all of them, with only one exception, hit the targets every
time. We did feel so sorry for the man who failed, for such an ordeal as
the presence of the Mikado was in itself sufficient to make any loyal
subject nervous, and when one target was missed, it was scarcely
possible to recover sufficiently to take true aim for the others.
Nevertheless, even Japanese politeness could not silence a little murmur
of derision from the crowd.
The other competitors vied with one another in giving proofs of their
extraordinary dexterity—one man especially always held his arrow above
his head till he was actually opposite the target, and it seemed to the
onlookers as if he had certainly presumed too far on his skill. But no!
swifter than thought, he fitted the shaft, drew his bow, split the
target, and passed on to repeat the feat a second and a third time,
giving us some idea of what a terrible foe he would prove were his
arrows winged with deadly intent.
The archery was succeeded by various equestrian sports. A pretty feat,
which seemed to depend as much on skill in taking advantage of the
breeze as in actual horsemanship, consisted in so guiding the steed,
that a strip of bright cloth or ribbon (which at first lay rolled up on
a basket fastened to the back of the rider) gradually unwound itself,
till it floated as a streamer of about thirty feet in length; a streamer
which might never once touch the ground, however often the rider might
change his course.
Then we had an exhibition of hunting, which was not very lively. A
number of mounted huntsmen, armed with bows and blunted arrows, started
in pursuit of dogs, but these poor creatures had been so long in
captivity and so tightly tied up, that they had no energy even for
flight, but sneaked quietly off the scene the moment they were unbound.
So then canvas bags were fastened to a long rope and dragged round the
park by a horseman at full gallop, the others following in hot pursuit.
All the time these sports were going on, there had been a continuous
discharge of day fireworks, a very curious variety of pyrotechnics. A
sound as of a cannon called our attention to a sort of shell which was
shot heavenward, and there burst with a loud report, which was followed
by a shower of all manner of odd things—fans, miniature umbrellas, paper
handkerchiefs, and a great variety of ingenious paper ornaments.
Occasionally quite a large paper balloon appeared, gradually expanded,
and floated away into space; or showers of long ribbons of
bright-coloured paper came wriggling down like an army of flying
serpents. Paper fishes, too, seemed to swim, and birds and butterflies
to fly, with every varying current of air. Some of the shells were
filled with chemicals, and as they burst, the atmosphere was tinted by
films of many-coloured smoke.
At the close of this exhibition the Mikado withdrew in his handsome
European carriage, with mounted escort; and the Imperial Princes and
Princesses—the latter in their pretty national dress—with the Grant
party and other principal guests (which of course included Sir Harry
Parkes’s party), adjourned to dine in a large temporary building,
consisting of a circular platform with a roof supported by pillars, and
thatched with boughs of cryptomeria—very pretty. Here we had an
excellent dinner, while food on a gigantic scale was provided in the
park for the general public.
Afterwards we adjourned to another very pretty circular, temporary room,
which had been fitted up for the Mikado. His own beautiful
chrysanthemum-lacquer furniture had been removed immediately on his
departure, but a very fine screen of Japanese warriors remained, and all
round the room were flowers in pretty vases, gold-fish in flat dishes,
and the walls were draped with lilac cloth with pattern of gold
chrysanthemums.
As the twilight deepened, we all went to see the fireworks from stands
on the brink of the great lake, which (at all times beautiful) is now
covered with large pink and white lotus-blossoms. The whole edge of the
lake is outlined with white lanterns, while tier above tier rise lines
of crimson lanterns, marking different streets and tea-houses, all
reflected in the lake. The island on which stands Benten Sama’s temple,
was brilliantly illuminated, and thence the fireworks were let off, one
or two at a time. This went on for a couple of hours—pretty, but not
exciting.
Finally we had a stroll through the beautiful illuminated park, crowded
with happy people, and in all that multitude we did not see one person
drunk or in any way disorderly; and so ended a most interesting day,
aided by perfect weather. We came from the Legation in a procession of
sixteen jinrikshas, each drawn by two men, tandem, and preceded by a
mounted orderly. Our human ponies trotted at a brisk pace the whole five
miles, and seemed none the worse.
On board THE CITY OF TOKIO, _en route_ to San Francisco,
_19th September 1879_.
My last voyage to San Francisco was from Tahiti on board the _Paloma_, a
beautiful little brigantine, weighing 230 tons. We were six weeks
without once touching land, and the voyage, which ought to have been
about four thousand miles, proved to be fully six thousand. This was
chiefly due to a succession of calms, which left us quite at the mercy
of unaccountable currents, which carried us far out of our course, and
combined with the very irregular behaviour of the trade-winds in
baffling our onward progress by taking us far to the west, all of which
the Danish captain and his wife quite seriously attributed to my
perversity in writing letters on board. They said it always happens when
passengers _will_ write, and they knew how it would be as soon as they
saw my ink-bottle, which they would fain have thrown overboard.
Well, now I am on board a splendid Pacific mail-steamer 424 feet long
and weighing 5500 tons; weather perfect, and very pleasant companions. I
never more thoroughly enjoyed any voyage, or the sense of repose in
getting through three weeks without feeling obliged to go and see
ANYTHING—not even a school of porpoises! for all on board are old
travellers who have exhausted such novelties, and so do not disturb
themselves or their neighbours! Indeed, outside of our floating city
there has been little to see save a lovely calm sea, across which we
glide so steadily that I sit in my own cabin writing or painting all the
mornings. We have not seen even one sail since we cleared Yokohama
(about four thousand miles).
Our start from Yokohama was a very pretty scene, as the Japanese
authorities, who had arranged a succession of brilliant receptions for
General and Mrs. Grant from the moment of their landing in Nagasaki, did
not neglect to speed the departing of their warrior guest, whose fame as
a conquering hero appealed so vividly to all their own fighting
instincts.
So when the Grants embarked, they were escorted on board by a crowd of
naval officers in full uniform, with sword and cocked hat; and as we
steamed out of harbour, five foreign and many Japanese men-of-war, and
all the other ships, were dressed with flags; the men-of-war manned
yards and fired salutes. One Japanese man-of-war escorted us forty miles
down the Bay of Yeddo, then the men stood in pyramids up the ladders,
and cheered, and then fired the final salute, after which we settled
down to most enjoyable peace and quiet.
The feeding arrangements are excellent, and the dining-tables divided
into parties of ten, so that each is like a private dinner-table. I am
with the Grants at the Captain’s table, “Commodore” Maury—so called from
his being senior of the Pacific mail captains. He is an old U.S. naval
officer—a Southerner, and he and the General exchange interesting war
and other reminiscences and anecdotes, and indulge in much dry humour.
I am much interested by my various companions, and especially in the
American Wellington and his good wife, with both of whom I have become
great friends. We had met repeatedly in China. She is a very pleasant
old lady—affectionate and kind, and withal full of fun. Of course in
their grand tour round the world she has been entertained by a vast
number of celebrities, and what charms me is the perfect simplicity
retained both by herself and her beloved “Ulyss” (which is the wifely
form of Ulysses). They are quite unspoilt by all their amazing varieties
of fortune, and by the adulation which has been lavished upon them, and
it is very nice to hear the delight with which the old lady repeats some
instance of her General’s little thoughtfulnesses for “his sweetheart.”
It was an early love-match and long engagement, when he was a poor young
officer in the Mexican service, and she the daughter of a superior
farmer, who thought the young soldier was not good enough for his child,
and for a long time would not sanction the match. Finally Ulysses left
the army and joined his father, who was in business in the leather
trade. That did not answer, and for a while he lived with his
father-in-law, driving the cart to market to sell the farm produce. (I
am told all this by Americans on board.)
Then the war broke out, and his instincts at once led him to develop his
latent talent. He rose to distinction with wonderful rapidity, and
gained several important battles with armies of about half the numerical
strength of the Southerners. Finally he became, as you know,
Commander-in-Chief of the vast Northern army, and fought literally a
hundred battles.
Of course he was vilified and reviled by all the democratic party, even
during the eight years that he was President. But from all accounts he
has held steadily on the even tenour of his way, holding on a
wonderfully clean course, and doing his best to counteract the gross
corruption which seems to pervade every department of the Government.
PALACE HOTEL,
SAN FRANCISCO, _21st September 1879_.
It certainly has been a stroke of good-fortune that I should have
travelled with the Grants. This city has been mad with enthusiasm in
welcoming them back to America, and their reception yesterday was
stupendous. Though lacking the grace of Japanese artistic decoration,
there was a feeling of power that was very impressive.
As we entered “The Golden Gates,” which are the headlands at the mouth
of the great harbour, and three hours’ steam from the city, we were met
by two small steamers bringing the municipal authorities and many
officers to welcome the General. Two huge Pacific mail-steamers, each
with three thousand persons standing on deck and cheering with all their
might, also came, purposing to steam back all the way, one on each side
of our ship. Happily for us, the state of the tide did not allow of
their doing so! The whole route lay between closely-packed steamers,
yachts, and vessels of every description, all covered with flags, and
densely crowded with human beings, all waving handkerchiefs. The
continuous cheering was stupendous.
One odious steamer played a caliope, an atrocious sort of mechanical
organ, which the papers this morning justly describe as “devil’s music.”
All blew horrible steam-whistles, but their noise was outdone by that of
the artillery. The whole coast-line on each side of the harbour bristles
with forts, from which was poured forth an incessant cannonade. Volley
after volley reverberated among the hills, and the clouds of smoke were
lighted up with golden light from a gorgeous sunset behind us—truly
“Golden Gates”—while the city lay clear before us.
All this noise was deafening, and I for one was truly thankful when,
after much delay, we at length reached this gigantic hotel, in which a
thousand persons are now lodging, and all the neighbouring huge hotels
are equally full. This one is seven stories high, besides the ground
floor, with a “lift” at each corner, which works up and down
ceaselessly. The centre is a vast court into which carriages drive. It
is covered with a glass roof, and the seven corridors all look down into
it. These were densely crowded as the General drove in, and three
hundred voices sang a chorus of welcome with very long solos by a lady.
After much cheering, a good band played to solace the people while the
General dined, as they were determined to hear him speak, which at
length he did with characteristic brevity—even this morning’s papers can
only expand his words into four lines.
All the principal streets of the city are literally covered with flags,
which of course looks gay, but monotonous in the extreme, as the sole
idea has been to exhibit the national flag as many million times as
possible. From every house, every car, every omnibus, and across every
street, hung flags without number, but all without exception the
invariable Stars and Stripes. The General was escorted through all the
principal streets by a vast procession, representing all the principal
classes of the people, and divisions of the army, with banners bearing
their name. Federals and Confederates, Northerners and Southerners,
walked side by side, burying all enmities in this enthusiastic welcome.
The different bodies of cavalry were very fine, especially the
artillery, whose first detachment had fifty pure white horses, then a
corps of greys, then bays, etc. Then came a wild-looking Indian tracker,
who acted the part of out-rider to the carriage-and-six in which sat the
General with the Mayor of the city.
Red, blue, and white lights were burned as the procession passed,
lighting up all the tall spires and towers, and producing a weird effect
of beautiful colour. At last the tired General reached this great hotel,
to receive the aforesaid final welcome of the day. He and his family
have a full week’s work cut out for them till next Monday, when they go
to seek rest and peace in the Yosemite Valley amid the stillness of the
glorious Sierra Nevada.
On that day I am to sail for Honolulu and the great volcanoes, active
and dormant, under the especial charge of the Marshal of the Hawaiian
Isles, an American who has lived in the group for thirty-five years. I
was introduced to him (and to several other American Hawaiian families
now returning to the Isles) by Mr. Severance, the Hawaiian Consul here,
whose brother lives at Hilo, near the base of the active volcano.
I purpose spending a couple of months in the Isles, returning here just
in time to cross the great continent and spend Christmas with
Alastair[69] near Baltimore, and thence back to England, when the worst
of the winter is over.... Your loving sister,
C. F. G. C.