It seems curious at first to think of an Emperor with six wives having a silver wedding, but, as I have previously mentioned, His Majesty has but one wife who is recognised officially--the present Empress of Japan. My father and I were staying at Tokio at the time of this ceremony, and were fortunate in receiving invitations, as, out of the three thousand guests invited to the palace, only about a hundred were foreigners.

The event caused great excitement in the capital, for the Japanese are most loyal and devoted subjects. Every street was decorated with flags and garlands of flowers, whilst on the auspicious day, March the 9th, everyone donned their best attire and there was a public holiday all over Japan. Thousands of peasants came from the country on the chance of getting a glimpse at the ‘Ruler of the Rising Sun,’ who was to review his troops on the parade-ground just outside the walls of the city. The cherry and peach trees were also en fÊte for the occasion, their pink and white blossoms adding much to the charm of the scene, whilst the wind scattered their petals on the passers-by, covering the ground like newly-fallen snow. By two o’clock over ten thousand troops had assembled, as smart and well-turned-out a set of men as one could wish to see. The cavalry left something to be desired, as the horses were small and mostly in poor condition, but they are strong, willing little beasts, and very serviceable for rough-riding.

Three large tents had been erected on the parade-ground, one for the Royal party, another for the staff and Ministers of State, and the third for the Corps Diplomatique and a few favoured foreigners.

At mid-day a loud fanfare of trumpets was heard, the massed bands struck up the Japanese National Anthem and the Royal procession arrived in sight. The Emperor and Empress were in a golden coach drawn by six horses, followed by eight other carriages containing Royalties and officials. As usual, on their arrival there was dead silence, and their Majesties’ expressions were perfectly impassive, as if carved in stone; in fact, during the whole afternoon and the march-past of the troops, I never saw a smile or the slightest sign of interest on either of those statuesque faces.faces. When the review was over, we had barely time to rush back to the hotel to dress for the banquet and reception at the Palace. On this important occasion I wore my first Court train, and very proud I felt as I drove off with my father in the carriage.

The Palace grounds were brilliantly lighted by thousands of coloured lanterns and little lamps. As I stepped out of the brougham into the large entrance-hall, where already many of the guests had assembled, and had my train arranged by two of the gold-laced attendants, I felt as if I were living in some other age, being no longer only an English country girl, but some Japanese Princess of old Japan.

After passing down endless corridors brilliantly lit with countless candles, along highly polished and very slippery floors, we arrived at the banqueting-hall. I presently found myself sitting with the Chinese Minister, Mr. Wong, on my right and a little Japanese Admiral on my left. My father was some way down on the other side.

It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight. Over five hundred guests were present, seated at long tables, which were exquisitely decorated with orchids, roses, ferns, and every kind of fruit in silver dishes. All the dinner-service was also of solid silver. At one end of the hall, a little raised and apart, sat the Emperor and Empress. The latter wore a European dress of rich white satin embroidered all over with silver; and masses of priceless diamonds were round her neck and in her dress. On her head was a small crown studded with precious stones. On either side sat the Royal Princes and Princesses; they all wore the Grand Cross Order of Japan--a broad orange and white ribbon. Every conceivable uniform seemed to be represented--Diplomats, Generals, Admirals, and a few foreigners in Court dress.

The dinner lasted nearly three hours, and, to judge by the manner His Excellency Mr. Wong appreciated every dish, it must have been a very good one. Mr. Wong was a tall, oldish man with a shrewd, parchment-like face. He spoke English well and said he was a natural philosopher. He had gorgeous brocades and thick furs lining his long robes. I asked him why he did not wear these brocades outside at night for variety, which idea seemed much to amuse him. He told me his jade ring was worth five thousand dollars. It certainly was a lovely green stone.

The little Japanese Admiral, who spoke no English, tried to entertain me by making all sorts of figures out of his bread. At each course he asked for a fresh roll, and, by the end of dinner, we had an array of minute bread soldiers, ladies and animals on the table before us, really most cleverly contrived.

Before the banquet was half finished I felt I could eat no more, but my two neighbours seemed so distressed when I passed a dish, that I felt obliged to taste everything.

Each guest had before his plate a stork made of solid silver, beautifully chased, standing on a little silver box, with two tortoises at the foot, also in silver. These were presented by their Majesties as souvenirs of their silver wedding. The stork is the emblem of happiness in Japan and the tortoise of long life. Before leaving, we were also presented with silver medals, coined especially for the occasion with an inscription, and enclosed in a black and silver lacquer box.

After the banquet we went to the throne-room, where seats were arranged for two thousand guests, many being present who had not attended the dinner. There was a stage, and some very curious acting was performed--old Japanese plays, with weird Japanese music, which resembled cats on a roof more than anything I have ever heard.

The solemnity of the large audience, the weird acting and the appalling music suddenly inspired me with a wild desire to laugh, and I only saved myself from disgrace by bending my head low and trying to think of everything sad I could recollect. It was no use; I was rapidly becoming hysterical, when a kind little Japanese lady, thinking I was feeling faint, offered me her scent-bottle. This restored me to my senses, and I repressed my feelings until the end of the entertainment.

The Emperor and Empress were present, sitting in state together on their thrones. During the whole performance they hardly moved a muscle of their faces, the sign of high breeding in Japan, but the poor Empress looked very pale and exhausted before the end, and neither she nor the Emperor attended the supper to which we were all bidden before leaving the palace.

Truly it was a strange and unique ceremony.

Another entertainment of interest to which we went some time later was a ball given at the Chinese Legation by their Excellencies the Minister and Lady YÜ, who had succeeded my old friend and philosopher, Mr. Wong, in Tokio. Looking at the large cosmopolitan company gathered together, all apparently on the most friendly and cordial terms, it was hard to believe that there had ever been war between China and Japan, or that even then there were strained relations between several of the countries whose representatives were there on apparently the most friendly and cordial terms. However, I suppose even the most zealous statesman must at times put aside his official capacity and yield to the enjoyment of the moment, and this they certainly seemed to be doing on the present occasion.

The Chinese Legation is a large European building of red brick, commanding one of the best situations in Tokio. But for its yellow flag flying aloft on fÊte-days and a few Chinese ‘monban,’ or guards, at the gates, there is nothing to distinguish it from any of the other official residences in the capital. The Legation is furnished in European style, with curtains and coverings of bright-coloured brocades, and has a large ball-room, with a parquet floor and electric light. On this important evening the walls were decorated with Chinese weapons and flags, arranged very effectively. The guests, who numbered between two and three hundred, arrived shortly after nine o’clock; they included nearly all the Japanese Ministers of State and high officials, the various Corps Diplomatiques and their staffs, the Russian Admiral and a number of Russian officers, and also the greater part of the foreign community of Tokio.

On arrival, we were met at the entrance by an imposing group of Chinese officials, who escorted us two by two across the hall and up a long flight of stairs to the dressing-room. After delivering over our cloaks and wraps to the quaintest and most picturesque-looking little maid-servants, we were marched arm in arm solemnly in procession downstairs to the drawing-room, where the Minister and Lady YÜ were waiting to receive us. Lady YÜ wore a European dress of violet satin and lace, and had a Court train trimmed with ostrich-feathers; although she is usually seen in her national costume. She is a nice-looking woman, with a kind, pleasant face. By birth she is American-Japanese, her father having married and settled in Shanghai. Her two daughters, Miss Lizzie and Miss Nelly YÜ, were also in European dresses of white silk. They are bright-looking girls, very popular in Tokio society. All three speak English fluently. The Minister, however, speaks only Chinese, but, I believe, understands a good deal of the conversation going on around him. He is a native of the province of Manchu, in the North of China, and, like most of the inhabitants of that part of the country, is above the average height and a powerfully-made man. He adheres entirely to his Chinese dress, and was attired in a long coat of yellow brocade, lined with white Mongolian fur.

There are two sons, the eldest about twenty-one years of age, who is already married, and is a proud father--the other a boy of about seventeen. They both seemed thoroughly to enjoy the dancing, although their long satin petticoats and curious high shoes must have been somewhat inconvenient. They are being educated by French and English governesses, and one of them confided to me that his mother fines him 10 sen (= 2½d.) whenever he speaks Chinese!

A number of Chinese guests were present, their gorgeous, embroidered garments adding much to the general effect of the ballroom, as did also the gay uniforms of the various naval and military officers. There was a curious mixture of costumes. Chinese in Chinese dress, Chinese in European dress, Japanese À l’Anglaise, Japanese À la Japonaise, and Europeans in every imaginable combination of colour and style; some toilettes as much ‘up-to-date’ as the distance from the land of fashions permitted, others evidently desirous of striking out a line of their own. One American lady had actually draped herself in a Japanese kimono, but in a way that no Japanese lady would dream of appearing. I also noticed a German lady in a dress of pure white.

Perhaps, however, they imagined it was a fancy-dress ball! Contrary to the Chinese dress, which is a combination of the most vivid colouring, the Japanese ladies over twenty--in fact, even younger--wear nothing but the most sober colours--grays, drabs, fawns; and the elderly ladies are generally seen in black, the only adornment being their crest embroidered on the back of their kimonos. The men and boys wear gray, dark blue, and black ukatas.

The cotillon was led by Miss YÜ and a secretary of the Russian Legation, and included some pretty and original figures. The Russian contredanses seemed to be especially appreciated, and the fun had waxed fast and furious towards the small hours of the morning when we took our departure. In fact, the ball was a great success in every way, and the general originality of the entertainment added much to its charm.

Some of the guests were a little disappointed in not having a real Chinese supper; but when I mention a few of the palatable dishes that were served to us at a Chinese dinner at which we were once present, I think you will agree with me that we had a lucky escape.

The chief dainties at that delectable feast--which, by-the-by, lasted three hours and a half--were swallows’-nest soup, a very expensive dish, I believe; sharks’ fins, more or less eatable; eggs, which had been buried for several months and had become the consistency and colour of old Stilton cheese; and many other similar dainties which I fail to remember, but all swimming in the inevitable and savoury Chinese sauce made of pig and goose fat. Of course, tastes differ, but I own to preferring the more commonplace chicken-and-ham supper menu to the above delicacies.

Another ceremony of a very different character at which I was soon afterwards present, was the Shinto funeral of His Imperial Highness Prince Arizugawa, uncle to the present Emperor. There is a most remarkable custom in Japan--that any person of Royal blood who dies away from home must have his death concealed until his body can be removed to his own palace. On this occasion, for several days after the Prince’s death was an open secret, official bulletins were issued describing his condition as very critical. On the arrival of the coffin at the Imperial Palace in Tokio, however, his death was publicly announced to have taken place--quite a week later than was really the case.

By an early hour the streets of Tokio were thronged with an expectant crowd, all in their best attire--a picturesque gathering, very different from our sober-coloured crowd in England. Death to a Japanese does not inspire the same dread and awe with which we are accustomed to associate it.

The day was all one could desire--one of those brilliant frosty days which make the winter of Japan so delightful. The funeral procession left the palace about 9 a.m., preceded by a large number of mounted troops; and the roads were lined by the infantry to keep back the crowd. Not wishing to follow the procession at a foot-pace for over two hours--the Imperial burial-ground being nearly five miles from the Prince’s palace--my father and I started an hour later and, driving by a shortcut, reached our destination in good time. Only those having tickets were admitted into the Temple grounds, but there was a very large gathering--almost every nation being represented. The gay uniforms of the Japanese Officials, Admirals, and Generals; the entire Corps Diplomatique, Consuls from Yokohama, the officers from the Russian and German men-of-war, and the Chinese and Koreans in their quaint dress, all formed a brilliant gathering, standing out against the dark background of the great cryptomeria trees.

Several ladies were present, all in deep mourning; among them we noticed two of the Royal Princesses. Refreshments were provided in a small Japanese house in the grounds; and the hot coffee and sandwiches seemed much appreciated by many who had come up by an early train from Yokohama that morning. As the faint notes of the bugle announced the approach of the procession, we all formed into a long line near the entrance-gate.

The priests walked first, arrayed in white silk kimonos, with curious erections of stiff black silk on their heads, somewhat resembling the helmet of Britannia. Then followed the choir, playing a weird incantation on their curious instruments. As I have said before, those who have not heard Japanese music can hardly realize how utterly unlike it is to the music of the West. Harmony it has none, and the wailing, dirge-like sounds are somewhat trying to the uninitiated. Notwithstanding, I noticed a solemn dignity in the mournful strains which had never struck me before.

Great numbers of wreaths, also enormous erections of artificial and natural flowers in bamboo stands, were carried by men in white cloaks. Some of these offerings were over twelve feet in height and required two men to carry them. These were followed by the late Prince’s servants, his horses, then more priests--one carrying on a wooden stand a pair of shoes for the use of the departed spirit on its journey to Paradise or Hades, as the case might be. Then came the coffin, enclosed in a plain white wood sarcophagus, from which appeared a piece of the sleeve of the dead Prince’s kimono, which, I must own, produced a most uncanny effect.

A Shinto corpse is always buried in a sitting position, fully dressed, with head bent to the knees in attitude of prayer. The coffin was carried by a dozen men, all in white and bare-headed. Young Prince Arizugawa followed immediately after his father’s coffin. He was in old Court dress--a petticoat of black silk, very full, giving the appearance of a divided skirt and a white silk kimono. He carried a long, narrow piece of wood, which he held in front of him, on which, doubtless, were inscribed prayers. His head-dress was somewhat similar to that worn by the priests, but at the back of the head was fastened a large black wire hoop covered with silk. In appearance the Prince is a small man, even for a Japanese, but very dignified in manner, with a clever, rather sad face. The ceremony must have been a trying one for him, as he marched on foot in the centre of the procession from one end of Tokio to the other, and the Shinto funeral rites, as far as the immediate relatives of the dead are concerned, compelled them to remain by the coffin until after sunset.

Princess Arizugawa, the Empress’s messenger and the late Prince’s mother were also in old Japanese Court dress--enormous trousers of bright-red material and white silk kimonos. Their hair was dressed in the most fantastic style, part of it standing out on either side of the head in stiff wings, the back view of the head resembling a heart in shape, the rest of the hair falling loosely down the back. The poor little ladies seemed to experience some difficulty in walking in their high clogs and stiff trousers. I imagine they must prefer even European dress to this quaint, but unpractical style.

After waiting about an hour, while the coffin and floral offerings were being arranged, we were conducted to the other end of the Temple grounds, where a temporary altar had been erected. The priests, who were eight in number, after clapping their hands before the altar to call the attention of the gods and bowing to the ground repeatedly, chanted several long prayers, and the choir again began its dirge-like wailing. Then the priests in turn placed a small white wooden stand in front of the altar-steps, on each of which was a dish containing different sorts of food. First, two fish were presented, then a pair of wild duck, game, meat, rice, bread, fruits, and lastly, a bottle of sakÉ. Food is always offered at a Shinto funeral for use of the spirit of the departed, who is supposed to travel for fifty days before his fate is finally decided by the gods; and during that period prayers are incessantly offered up by the priests and the family of the deceased until the fiftieth day, when judgment is supposed to be pronounced as to his future state.

Before leaving, each guest in turn, beginning with the messengers of the Emperor and Empress, placed before the coffin a small branch of a tree, from which hung strips of white paper cut into little angular bunches, intended to represent the offerings of cloth which in ancient days were tied to the branches of the ‘cleyera’ tree in festival time. When our turn came, over a hundred branches had been presented, and, on leaving, we passed a large crowd with their offerings in their hands. The whole ceremony was exceedingly simple. Indeed, the chief characteristic of the Shinto religion is its simplicity; and ‘to follow the dictates of your own conscience and to obey the Mikado’ embraces the whole of its religious teaching. The present religion of the country is Shinto, but many of the Buddhist ceremonies have become mingled with it, although each religion has its distinctive marks.