The invitations, in Japanese characters, were handed to us with many others on our arrival, but had already been formally answered at the American Embassy. The instructions were the same then as they are to-day as to costume and etiquette. They indicated that the ladies were to wear high-necked dresses with trains and hats, and the men were to be in uniform or full dress. On the morning of the sixteenth (of July), we all met at the Embassy at eleven o'clock—as the audience was due at noon—and placed ourselves in the hands of the Ambassador.
Two Imperial carriages conveyed the important official members of the party to the palace, and the rest proceeded in vehicles hired for the occasion.
After the men of the party were presented to the Emperor, in the manner already described, they rejoined the ladies, and all were introduced to the lady-in-waiting, Countess Kagawa, and then conducted to Her Majesty's audience hall. Mrs. O'Brien, the wife of the Ambassador, preceded, making low courtesies; the ladies followed.
The Emperor, who was in uniform, appeared older than we had expected. Her Majesty was several years older than the Emperor, and had charming manners, but she did not smile. Expression, we were informed, is not considered aristocratic. Her hair and dress were in European fashion, and she wore beautiful pearls. She had no children—the present Mikado is the only son of Emperor Meiji by another wife.
Some stories that are told of the late Emperor show how much real strength of character he possessed. A few years ago, it is said, when a plot against His Majesty's life was discovered, the Prime Minister went to him and offered his resignation, saying that as this plot had been brought to light while he was in office (the first plot against any Mikado in the history of Japan), he felt that perhaps his administration had not been good. The Emperor, however, would not accept his resignation, saying that if the people wished to take his life, it must be his fault—it must show that he had not been a good ruler. Accordingly, he ordered only twelve of the twenty-four offenders to be put to death.
In his last illness, owing to the old belief that his person was too sacred to be touched, even the doctors were not allowed to come in contact with him, his pulse being counted by a silken cord about his wrist. The Empress was at his bedside when he died. The only person who ever entered his apartment, I was told, was Prince Ito, who came on some urgent affair of state in response to a telephone message from the Emperor himself. The Prince was admitted before the Mikado was dressed in the morning. Even on the greatest occasions, however, he was never really well dressed, because no one was permitted to fit his clothes, lest a mere human being should touch his person.
Yet the life of the late Emperor, secluded though he was within his palace walls, was freedom itself in comparison with that of the ancient rulers. In olden times, so Hearn writes, "His (the Mikado's) feet were never permitted to touch the ground out of doors, nor was he allowed to cut his hair, beard or nails, or to expose himself to the rays of the sun." His only excursions outside the walls of his palace were made in a large norimono, or palanquin, borne by fourteen men, in which, behind the latticed windows, he was able to catch glimpses of the outer world while himself invisible. Even if he granted an audience, he was never seen, his person being completely hidden by bamboo screens.
The emperors of ancient days were allowed to have three consorts besides the Empress, also nine maids of high rank and twenty-seven maids of lower rank, all of whom were known as wives. In addition to these, he was at liberty to have eighty-one concubines. Only one of the wives ranked as empress, but the twelve next below her had each a palace near that of the Emperor. By way of contrast, it is said that the present Emperor has never loved any woman but the Empress. The Mikado's eldest daughter was in olden times appointed chief priestess of the Temple of the Sun, at Ise.
Somewhat in contrast with my husband's experiences were those of America's first Ambassador to Japan, Mr. Townsend Harris, as he has related them in his journal. After his arrival in Japan and many weary months of waiting at Shimoda, he wrote September 25th, 1857, "I am to go to Yedo (now Tokyo) in the most honourable manner; and after my arrival I am to have an audience of the Shogun, and then present the letter of the President!!"