The Little Book of the Flag

by Eva March Tappan

Along the beach were ranged nine tall crimson standards, surrounded by flags of all sorts and colors. Five or six thousand soldiers were drawn up in line, and the hills behind them were crowded with people. When the Americans came to land, a procession was formed. First, the marines and sailors, then the one flag of the procession, the Stars and Stripes, its brilliant colors flashing in the bright sunshine. It was borne by the two tallest, broadest-shouldered men among the sailors of the squadron. After the flag came two of the younger men, carrying a rosewood box mounted with gold and carefully wrapped in a scarlet cloth. In this were the credentials of the Commodore and the letter of the President. These were written on vellum, and the seals were attached by cords of silk and gold, ending in tassels of gold. Then came the Commodore, and on either side of him was a tall negro of fine proportions and armed to the teeth. After the Commodore walked the officers of the squadron. Commodore and officers were escorted into the handsomely decorated hall of reception. The court interpreter asked if the letter was ready. The two pages, guarded by the two stalwart negroes, were summoned and placed the letter upon a handsome box of red lacquer, which was ready to receive them. The Commodore made a formal bow. The bands played our national airs, and all returned to the vessels as ceremoniously as they had come.

This was the beginning of intercourse between the United States and Japan. Two years later a treaty was signed, and in 1860 an embassy from Japan visited this country.

So it was that Japan was opened to the world. In 1901 the Japanese Minister of Justice said: "Commodore Perry's visit was, in a word, the turn of the key which opened the doors of the Japanese Empire. Japan has not forgotten—nor will she ever forget—that, next to her reigning and most beloved sovereign, whose rare virtue and great wisdom is above all praise, she owes her present state of prosperity to the United States of America." "Are you coming over here to fight us?" a young Japanese in this country was playfully asked. "Fight the United States?" he exclaimed. "The United States is our friend." And drawing himself up to his full height, he said proudly, "The Japanese do not forget. We know what your Commodore Perry and your country have done for us."

The American flag was first seen in China in 1784. The Chinese said it was "as beautiful as a flower," and for many years they always spoke of it as the "flower flag."

A custom of great significance and value, that of raising the home flag over legations and consulates in foreign lands whenever a home holiday comes around, is due to the tact and ready wit of one of our Ministers to Sweden, William W. Thomas, Jr. The following is his own account of the event:—

On taking possession of the archives and property of the United States at Stockholm, I was surprised to find there was no American flag there. Talking with my colleagues, the Ministers of other countries, I was informed that no foreign Minister at Stockholm ever hoisted his country's flag, and that to do so would be considered a breach of diplomatic etiquette.

What was I to do? I did not wish to offend my good friends, the Swedes; that was the last thing a Minister should be guilty of. And I certainly did not want to see an American holiday go by without hoisting the American flag from the American Legation. The question troubled me a great deal.

All at once a thought seized me, like an inspiration. I sent to America for a flag. I procured flagstaff and halyards, and from my own drawings I had carved an American eagle, which was gilded and perched on top of the flag pole. Flag, eagle, and staff I concealed in the Legation, and bided my time.

Undoubtedly the greatest character Sweden has ever produced is Gustavus Adolphus. His life and deeds belong not to Sweden along, but to the world. Well, when the anniversary of the death and victory of this great captain of the Swedish host came round,—the 6th of November, 1883,—and when the great choral societies of Stockholm, bearing banners and followed by vast multitudes of the Swedish populace, marched through the streets of Sweden's capital, and gathered about the mausoleum on the Island of Knights, where lies the mighty dead, sang pæans in his praise, then it happened, somehow, that, regardless of precedent or custom, the flag of the free republic—aye! flag, flagstaff, golden eagle, and all—was run out from the American Legation; and the starry banner of America waved in unison with the yellow cross of Sweden, in honor of the mightiest warrior for the freedom of our faith.

This act was everywhere approved in Sweden. It was praised by both the people and the press. After this, it may well be believed, the flag of America floated unchallenged in the capital of the Northland. It waved on high on the birthday of Washington, on that Memorial Day when we decorate the graves of our brave boys in blue who saved the Union, and on the Fourth of July, that gave the Republic birth. But I hoisted our flag impartially, on Swedish holidays as well as our own; and the Stars and Stripes floated out as proudly on the birthday of King Oscar as on that of Washington.