Captain McCalla regarded the Commissioners as proconsuls going to an important province, quite equal to the foremost diplomatic representatives of the United States anywhere, and he thought it was incumbent upon them to make the fact of their presence in Japan known at the Imperial Court and to apply for an audience with the Emperor. It hadn’t occurred to them. Their minds were so full of the weighty problems confronting them at Manila that they had given no consideration to any possible intervening formalities, and, anyhow, Mr. Taft said he thought the Emperor wouldn’t lose much sleep if he did miss seeing them. But this was not the proper attitude at all, and Captain McCalla, expostulating with them for their too casual conduct, finally prevailed upon them to communicate with the American Minister in Tokyo and ask to have application made for the audience. They were immediately informed that their arrival had been expected and that the matter had already been attended to.
The Commission had only a week in Japan and, although their purpose in stopping had been to coal ship and get some clothing suitable for the tropic heat they were going into, they naturally were anxious to see something of the country during their stay, so the days were filled with expeditions around Yokohama and Tokyo and to points of interest nearby. My sister Maria and I did not accompany them on many of these trips because we were planning to remain in Japan for the summer and wanted to view its attractions at our leisure.
The trip to Nikko was made memorable by Mr. Taft’s most triumphal progress. On account of his unusual proportions he had already been an object of tremendous interest to the Japanese.
Nikko is nearly a day’s ride from Tokyo, up in the hills to the north, and when you get there you find that the railway station is a long way from the hotel and that much of the distance is a steep incline. The only kind of conveyance available is a jinricksha, and when my husband climbed into one of these little perambulators the unfortunate coolie to whom it belonged began to utter strange sounds. He rolled his eyes and gesticulated frantically until he prevailed upon a second man to help him in propelling his unaccustomed burden. But even then his excitement did not abate. As they approached the first rise in the road some of the villagers along the way, attracted, no doubt, by the coolie’s weird cries, came out to stare and, as usual, remained to laugh. The little ’ricksha man began chattering and grimacing at all of them and kept it up until he had enlisted the services of at least half the population of the village to help him in attaining the crest of the hill.
Two days before the Hancock was to start on her way toward Manila the great event of our visit to Japan transpired. We had our audience with the Emperor and Empress.
The first thing the ladies all asked, of course, was, “What shall we wear?” It was a most important question. I supposed we should have to wear evening gowns and was congratulating myself that I had a very nice new one that would do beautifully. But only on the afternoon before the day appointed, it was decreed that we should appear in high-necked frocks with trains. That was more difficult—especially the trains. I didn’t own an afternoon frock that I considered good enough. I was going to the tropics and had got a supply of thin white muslins and linens, but I had nothing that would do for a cold May day in Japan. Mrs. Wright, Mrs. Worcester and Mrs. Moses were as greatly concerned as I, but we finally managed. I solved the problem by having a Chinese dressmaker in Yokohama make me, overnight, a lace guimpe which I wore with my perfectly acceptable evening gown.
Judge Ide had been particularly interested in the audience and in the fact that the ladies would also be received and he was very much chagrined when he found that “the ladies” meant only the wives of the Commissioners and that he could not take with him his two beautiful daughters. He quite lost interest in the whole proceeding, and we didn’t blame him in the least.
The Palace in Tokyo is not a “Forbidden City” literally, as the old palace in Peking used to be, but it looks from the outside just as “forbidden,” or more so. It is surrounded by a wide, deep moat which is crossed at intervals by curved and gracefully balustraded bridges. On the other side of the moat is a high stone wall. There is nothing of the palace to be seen except a few low, tiled roofs which peep out from the midst of many trees. The Imperial gardens are vastly more impressive than the palaces—there are several within the walled enclosure—and I would have wanted to linger and really look at things if I had not been so keenly interested in the experience which awaited us. Our carriage hurried on over the beautiful drives, through the most entrancing little artificial landscapes, past lakes full of little rock islands on which were perched tiny pavilions with uptilted roofs and the most beautiful polished wood and snow-white paper windows. It was all most fascinating and much too wonderful to be merely glanced at, but it was only a few moments before we approached
