JAPANESE SCENERY
Kobe is approached through the beautiful inland sea, but unfortunately it was foggy as we passed through, so we lost the famous panorama, but we soon had every opportunity of admiring the charms of Nature in Japan. We had always heard of the quaint houses and people, of their valour and their art, but somehow no one had told us of the beauty of the scenery, and it was quite a revelation to us.
I do not attempt any account of the wonderful towns, tombs, and temples which we saw during our month’s sojourn in the country, as travellers and historians have described them again and again, and Lafcadio Hearn and others who knew the people well have written of the spirit and devotion of the Japanese; but I venture to transcribe a few words from an article which I wrote just after our visit forThe Nineteenth Century, giving my impressions of the landscape in spring:
“Japanese scenery looks as if it ought to be etched. Large broad masses of light and shade would fail toconvey the full effect. Between trees varied in colouring and delicate in tracery peep the thatched cottage roofs and the neat grey rounded tiles of little wooden houses standing in gardens gay with peach blossom and wisteria; while the valleys are mapped out into minute patches of green young corn or flooded paddy-fields interspersed here and there with trellises over which are trained the spreading white branches of the pear. Everywhere are broad river-courses and rushing mountain streams, and now and again some stately avenue of the sacred cryptomeria leads to a temple, monastery, or tomb. Nothing more magnificent than these avenues can be conceived. The tall madder-pink stems rear their tufted crests in some cases seventy or eighty feet into the air, and the ground below is carpeted with red pyrus japonica, violets, ferns, and, near the romantic monastery of Doryo-San, with a kind of lily or iris whose white petals are marked with lilac and yellow. The avenue leading to Nikko extends in an almost unbroken line for over fifteen miles, the trees being known as the offering of a daimio who was too poor to present the usual stone or bronze lantern at the tomb of the great Shogun Ieyasu.”
“Japanese scenery looks as if it ought to be etched. Large broad masses of light and shade would fail toconvey the full effect. Between trees varied in colouring and delicate in tracery peep the thatched cottage roofs and the neat grey rounded tiles of little wooden houses standing in gardens gay with peach blossom and wisteria; while the valleys are mapped out into minute patches of green young corn or flooded paddy-fields interspersed here and there with trellises over which are trained the spreading white branches of the pear. Everywhere are broad river-courses and rushing mountain streams, and now and again some stately avenue of the sacred cryptomeria leads to a temple, monastery, or tomb. Nothing more magnificent than these avenues can be conceived. The tall madder-pink stems rear their tufted crests in some cases seventy or eighty feet into the air, and the ground below is carpeted with red pyrus japonica, violets, ferns, and, near the romantic monastery of Doryo-San, with a kind of lily or iris whose white petals are marked with lilac and yellow. The avenue leading to Nikko extends in an almost unbroken line for over fifteen miles, the trees being known as the offering of a daimio who was too poor to present the usual stone or bronze lantern at the tomb of the great Shogun Ieyasu.”
At Tokyo we were hospitably entertained at the Legation by Mr. (now Sir Maurice) de Bunsen, Chargé d’Affaires, in the absence of the Minister. The Secretary of Legation, Mr. Spring Rice (afterwards Sir Cecil), added greatly to our pleasure by his knowledge of things Japanese and the trouble he took to explain them.
A letter to my mother, dated April 1893, resumes many of my impressions of a Japan of nearly thirty years ago when it was still only emerging from its century-long seclusion.
“You cannot imagine what a delightful country Japan is. Not only is it so pretty, but it is so full of real interest. I had imagined that it was rather ajoke full of toy-houses and toy-people—on the contrary one finds great feudal castles with moats and battlements, gigantic stones fifteen feet long, and the whole place full of legends of knights and their retainers, ghosts and witches and enchantments.... The Clan-system here was in full-swing till just the other day, when Sir Harry Parkes routed out the Mikado, and the Shoguns (Tycoons) or Great War Lords, who had ruled the country for centuries, had at last to give way.“Even now the representatives of the greatest clans hold chief places in the Ministry and Naval and Military Departments, and the question in Parliament here is whether the radical opposition can break up the clan-system and distribute the loaves and fishes of Government patronage evenly amongst the people. Meantime I doubt if the Mikado, or Emperor as it is most proper to call him, is very happy in his new life. He thinks it correct to adapt himself to ‘Western civilisation,’ but very evidently prefers the seclusion of his ancestors and has credit for hating seeing people. There was to have been a garden party—the Cherry Blossom Party—at the Palace last Friday, but unfortunately it pelted, so it was promptly given up and everyone said that His Imperial Majesty was very glad not to have to ‘show.’
“You cannot imagine what a delightful country Japan is. Not only is it so pretty, but it is so full of real interest. I had imagined that it was rather ajoke full of toy-houses and toy-people—on the contrary one finds great feudal castles with moats and battlements, gigantic stones fifteen feet long, and the whole place full of legends of knights and their retainers, ghosts and witches and enchantments.... The Clan-system here was in full-swing till just the other day, when Sir Harry Parkes routed out the Mikado, and the Shoguns (Tycoons) or Great War Lords, who had ruled the country for centuries, had at last to give way.
“Even now the representatives of the greatest clans hold chief places in the Ministry and Naval and Military Departments, and the question in Parliament here is whether the radical opposition can break up the clan-system and distribute the loaves and fishes of Government patronage evenly amongst the people. Meantime I doubt if the Mikado, or Emperor as it is most proper to call him, is very happy in his new life. He thinks it correct to adapt himself to ‘Western civilisation,’ but very evidently prefers the seclusion of his ancestors and has credit for hating seeing people. There was to have been a garden party—the Cherry Blossom Party—at the Palace last Friday, but unfortunately it pelted, so it was promptly given up and everyone said that His Imperial Majesty was very glad not to have to ‘show.’
INTERVIEW WITH THE EMPRESS
“However G. had an audience with him yesterday and all of us with the Empress. It was rather funny. In the first place there was great discussion about our clothes. G. went in uniform, but the official documents granting audience specified that the ladies were to appear at 10 a.m., in high gowns—and in the middle of the Japanese characters came the French words ‘robes en traine.’ The wife of the Vice-Chamberlain—an Englishwoman—also wrote to explain that we must come without bonnets and with high gowns with trains! So we had to write back and explain that my latest Paris morning frock had but a short train and M’s smartest ditto none at all.“However, they promised to explain this to the Empress, and we arrived at the Palace, which we foundswarming with gold-laced officials, chamberlains, vice-chamberlains, and pages, and ladies in their regulation costume—high silk gowns just like afternoon garments but with long tails of the same material, about as long as for drawing-rooms—how they could have expected the passing voyager to be prepared with this peculiar fashion at twenty-four hours’ notice I know not, and I think it was lucky that I had a flowered brocade with some kind of train to it.“The saloons were very magnificent—built five years ago—all that was Japanese in them first-class—the European decorations a German imitation of something between Louis XV and Empire, which I leave to your imagination. G. was carried off in one direction whilst we were left to a trained little lady who fortunately spoke a little English, and after a bit we were taken to a corridor where we rejoined G. and Mr. de Bunsen and were led through more passages to a little room where a little lady stood bolt upright in a purple gown with a small pattern of gold flowers and an order—Japanese, I believe. She had a lady to interpret on her right, and two more, maids of honour, I suppose, in the background. The interpreting lady appeared to be alive—the vitality of the others was doubtful. We all bowed and curtsied, and I was told to go up to the Empress, which I did, and when I was near enough to avoid the possibility of her moving, she shook hands and said something almost in a whisper, interpreted to mean that she was very glad to see me for the first time. I expressed proper gratification, then she asked as to the length of our stay, and finally said how sorry she was for the postponement of the garden party, to which I responded with, I trust, true Eastern hyperbole that Her Majesty’s kindness in receiving us repaid me for the disappointment. This seemed to please her, and then she shook hands again, and went through her little formulæ with M. and G., giving one sentence to the former and two to the latter, after which with a great deal more bowing and curtsying we got out of the room and were shown through the other apartments.I heard afterwards that Her Majesty was very pleased with the interview, so she must be easily gratified, poor dear. I am told ‘by those who know’ that she is an excellent woman, does a great deal for schools and hospitals to the extent on at least one occasion of giving away all her pocket-money for the year and leaving herself with none. The poor woman has no children, but the Emperor is allowed other inferior spouses—with no recognised position—to the number of ten. I do not know how many ladies he has, but he has one little boy and two or three girls. The little boy is thirteen and goes to a day-school, so is expected to be of much more social disposition than his papa.”
“However G. had an audience with him yesterday and all of us with the Empress. It was rather funny. In the first place there was great discussion about our clothes. G. went in uniform, but the official documents granting audience specified that the ladies were to appear at 10 a.m., in high gowns—and in the middle of the Japanese characters came the French words ‘robes en traine.’ The wife of the Vice-Chamberlain—an Englishwoman—also wrote to explain that we must come without bonnets and with high gowns with trains! So we had to write back and explain that my latest Paris morning frock had but a short train and M’s smartest ditto none at all.
“However, they promised to explain this to the Empress, and we arrived at the Palace, which we foundswarming with gold-laced officials, chamberlains, vice-chamberlains, and pages, and ladies in their regulation costume—high silk gowns just like afternoon garments but with long tails of the same material, about as long as for drawing-rooms—how they could have expected the passing voyager to be prepared with this peculiar fashion at twenty-four hours’ notice I know not, and I think it was lucky that I had a flowered brocade with some kind of train to it.
“The saloons were very magnificent—built five years ago—all that was Japanese in them first-class—the European decorations a German imitation of something between Louis XV and Empire, which I leave to your imagination. G. was carried off in one direction whilst we were left to a trained little lady who fortunately spoke a little English, and after a bit we were taken to a corridor where we rejoined G. and Mr. de Bunsen and were led through more passages to a little room where a little lady stood bolt upright in a purple gown with a small pattern of gold flowers and an order—Japanese, I believe. She had a lady to interpret on her right, and two more, maids of honour, I suppose, in the background. The interpreting lady appeared to be alive—the vitality of the others was doubtful. We all bowed and curtsied, and I was told to go up to the Empress, which I did, and when I was near enough to avoid the possibility of her moving, she shook hands and said something almost in a whisper, interpreted to mean that she was very glad to see me for the first time. I expressed proper gratification, then she asked as to the length of our stay, and finally said how sorry she was for the postponement of the garden party, to which I responded with, I trust, true Eastern hyperbole that Her Majesty’s kindness in receiving us repaid me for the disappointment. This seemed to please her, and then she shook hands again, and went through her little formulæ with M. and G., giving one sentence to the former and two to the latter, after which with a great deal more bowing and curtsying we got out of the room and were shown through the other apartments.I heard afterwards that Her Majesty was very pleased with the interview, so she must be easily gratified, poor dear. I am told ‘by those who know’ that she is an excellent woman, does a great deal for schools and hospitals to the extent on at least one occasion of giving away all her pocket-money for the year and leaving herself with none. The poor woman has no children, but the Emperor is allowed other inferior spouses—with no recognised position—to the number of ten. I do not know how many ladies he has, but he has one little boy and two or three girls. The little boy is thirteen and goes to a day-school, so is expected to be of much more social disposition than his papa.”
THE SACRED MIRROR OF THE SUN-GODDESS
The boy in question is now Emperor and has unfortunately broken down in health. Mrs. Sannomya (afterwards Baroness), wife of the Vice-Chamberlain, told me that he was very intelligent, and that the Empress, who adopted him in accordance with Japanese custom, was fond of him. She also told me that the secondary wives were about the Court, but that it was not generally known which were the mothers of the Prince and Princesses. Mrs. Sannomya personally knew which they were, but the children were to be considered as belonging to the Emperor and Empress, the individual mothers had no recognised claim upon them. I believe that this Oriental “zenana” arrangement no longer exists, but meanwhile it assured the unbroken descent of the Imperial rulers from the Sun-goddess. We were assured that the reigning Emperor still possessed the divine sword, the ball or jewel, and the mirror with which she endowed her progeny. The mirror is the symbol of Shinto, the orthodox faith of Japan, and it derives its sanctity from the incident that it was used to attract the Sun-goddess from a cave whither she had retired in high dudgeon after aquarrel with another deity. In fact it seems to have acted as a pre-historic heliograph. By the crowing of a cock and the flashing of the mirror Ten sho dai jin was induced to think that morning had dawned, and once more to irradiate the universe with her beams.
Though Shintoism, the ancient ancestral creed, was re-established when the Emperor issued from his long seclusion, the mass of the population no doubt prefer the less abstract and more ritualistic Buddhism of China and Japan. What the educated classes really believe is exceedingly hard to discover. A very charming Japanese diplomatic lady remarked to me one Sunday at Osterley in connection with church-going that “it must be very nice to have a religion.” Viscount Hayashi summed up the popular creed, in answer to an inquiry on my part, as “the ethics of Confucius with the religious sanction of Buddhism”: perhaps that is as good a definition as any other.
It seems doubtful whether Christianity has made solid progress, though treated with due respect by the Government. Mr. Max Müller told me that when the Japanese were sending emissaries to the various Western Powers with instructions to investigate their methods both in war and peace, two of these envoys visited him and asked him to supply them with a suitable creed. “I told them,” said he, “‘Be good Buddhists first and I will think of something for you.’” An English lady long resident in Japan threw some further light on the Japanese view of ready-made religious faith. At the time when foreign instructors were employed to start Japan with her face turned westward, a German was enlisted to teach court etiquette, no doubt including “robes montantes en traine.” While still in this service a Court official requested him tosupply the full ceremonial of a CourtChristening. “But,” returned the Teuton, “you are not Christians, so how can I provide you with a Christening ceremony?” “Never mind,” was the reply, “you had better give it us now that you are here; we never know when we may want it.”
CHRISTIANITY IN JAPAN
St. Francis Xavier, who preached Christianity to the Japanese in the sixteenth century, records the testimony of his Japanese secretary, whom he found and converted at Goa, as to the effect likely to be produced on his fellow-countrymen by the saintly missionary. “His people,” said Anjiro of Satsuma, “would not immediately assent to what might be said to them, but they would investigate what I might affirm respecting religion by a multitude of questions, and above all by observing whether my conduct agreed with my words. This done, the King, the nobility, and adult population would flock to Christ, being a nation which always follows reason as a guide.”
Whether convinced by reason or example it is certain that the Japanese of the day accepted Christianity in large numbers, and that many held firm in the terrible persecution which raged later on. Nevertheless the Christian faith was almost exterminated at the beginning of the seventeenth century, only a few lingering traces being found when the country was reopened to missions in the latter half of the nineteenth.
Nowadays the Japanese idea unfortunately appears to be that Christianity has not much influence on the statesmanship of foreign countries, and their leading men in competition with the West seem too keen on pushing to the front in material directions to trouble much about abstract doctrines. Belief in a spirit-world, however, certainly prevailed among the masses of thepeople whom we saw frequenting temples and joining in cheerful pilgrimages.
The great interests of our visit from a social and political point of view was finding an acute and active-minded race in a deliberate and determined state of transition from a loyal and chivalrous past to an essentially modern but still heroic future. Neither the war with China nor that with Russia had then taken place, but foundations were being laid which were to ensure victory in both cases. The Daimios had surrendered their land to the Emperor and received in return modern titles of nobility, and incomes calculated on their former revenues. The tillers of the soil were secured on their former holdings and instead of rent paid land-tax. Naturally everything was not settled without much discontent, particularly on the part of the peasants, who thought, as in other countries, that any sort of revolution ought to result in their having the land in fee-simple. Much water, however, has flowed under the Sacred Bridges of Japan since we were there, and I do not attempt to tread the labyrinths of the agrarian or other problems with which the statesmen of New Japan had or have to deal.
DAIMIOS OF OLD JAPAN
One thing, however, was evident even to those who, like ourselves, spent but a short time in the country. The younger nobles gained more than they lost in many ways by the abandonment of their feudal prominence. Their fathers had been more subservient to the Shoguns than the French nobility to Louis XIV. The third of the Tokugawa line, who lived in the seventeenth century, decreed that the daimios were to spend half the year at Yedo (the modern Tokyo), and even when they were allowed to return to their own estates they were obliged to leave their wives and families in the capitalas hostages. The mountain passes were strictly guarded, and all persons traversing them rigidly searched, crucifixion being the punishment meted out to such as left the Shogun’s territory without a permit. On the shores of the beautiful Lake Hakone at the foot of the main pass villas were still pointed out where the daimios rested on their journey, and we were told that a neighbouring town was in other times largely populated by hair-dressers, who had to rearrange the elaborate coiffures of the ladies who were forced to take their hair down before passing the Hakone Bar. True, the daimios lived and travelled with great state and had armies of retainers, but at least one great noble confessed to me that the freedom which he then enjoyed fully compensated him for the loss of former grandeur.
My daughter who “came out” at Hong-Kong had quite a gay little season at Tokyo, as we were hospitably entertained by both Japanese and diplomats, and amongst other festivities we thoroughly enjoyed a splendid ball given by Marquis Naboshima, the Emperor’s Master of Ceremonies.
We were also fortunate in seeing the actor Danjolo, commonly called the “Irving of Japan,” in one of his principal characters. The floor of the theatre was divided into little square boxes in which knelt the audience, men, women, and children. From the main entrance of the house to the stage ran a gangway, somewhat elevated above the floor; this was called the Flowery Path, and served not only as a means of access to the boxes on either side, but also as an approach by which some of the principal actors made a sensational entrance on the scene. A large gallery, divided like the parterre, ran round three sides of the house and was reached from an outside balcony. European spectatorstaking seats in the gallery were accommodated with chairs.
The main feature wherein the Japanese differed from an English stage was that the whole central part of the former was round and turned on a pivot. The scenery, simple but historically correct, ran across the diameter of the reversible part; so while one scenic background was before the audience another was prepared behind and wheeled round when wanted. To remove impedimenta at the sides or anything which had to be taken away during the progress of a scene, little black figures with black veils over their faces, like familiars of the Inquisition, came in, and Japanese politeness accepted them as invisible.
Danjolo, who acted the part of a wicked uncle, proved himself worthy of his reputation and was excellently supported by his company. All the parts were taken by men; some plays were in those days acted by women, but it was not then customary for the two sexes to perform together. Now I believe that the barrier has been broken down and that they do so freely.
When we had a Japanese dinner at the Club the charming little waitresses gave dramatic performances in intervals between the courses.
Certainly the Japanese are prompt in emergency. A Japanese of high rank once told me how the Rising Sun came to be the National Flag. A Japanese ship arrived at an American port and the harbour authorities demanded to know under what flag she sailed. This was before the days when Japan had entered freely into commercial relations with other lands, and the captain had no idea of a national ensign. Not to be outdone by other mariners, he secured a large piece of white linen and painted upon it a large red orb. This was offeredand accepted as the National Flag of Japan, and is still the flag of her merchant fleet. With rays darting from it, it has become the ensign of her warships, and, as a gold chrysanthemum on a red ground, represents the Rising Sun in the Imperial Standard. According to my informant, who told me the tale at a dinner-party in London, the whole idea sprang from the merchant captain’s readiness of resource.
Whatever changes Japan may undergo, it must still retain the charm of its pure, transparent atmosphere with the delicate hues which I never saw elsewhere except in Greece. In some respects, unlike as they are physically, the Japanese recall the quick-witted, art-loving Greeks. Again, Japan, with its lovely lakes and mountains and its rich vegetation, has something in common with New Zealand, and, like those happy Islands, it has the luxury of natural hot springs. I shall never forget the hotel at Miyanoshita where the large bathrooms on the ground-floor were supplied with unlimited hot and cold water conducted in simple bamboo pipes direct from springs in a hill just behind the house.
JAPANESE FRIENDS
Still more vividly do I recall the Japanese who did so much for our enjoyment at Tokyo. Amongst others was the delightful Mrs. Inouye, whose husband, as Marquis Inouye, has since been Ambassador in London. Marchioness Inouye has remained a real friend, and constantly sends me news from the Island Empire. Nor must I forget how much we saw under the guidance of my cousin, the Rev. Lionel Cholmondeley, for many years a missionary in Japan, and Chaplain to the British Embassy there.
JOURNEY HOME—THE NILE—LORD KITCHENER
Our sojourn in Japan was all too short, and we sailed from Yokohama in a ship of the Empress Line on May 12. Capturing a spare day at 170° longitude, we reached Vancouver on the Queen’s Birthday. Our thirteen days’ voyage was somewhat tedious, as I do not think that we passed a single ship on the whole transit. The weather was dull and grey, and there was a continuous rolling sea, but I must say for our ship that no one suffered from sea-sickness. She lived up to the repute which we had heard concerning these liners; they were broad and steady, and I for one was duly grateful.
THE WELL-FORGED LINK OF EMPIRE
We had some pleasant fellow-passengers, including Orlando Bridgeman (now Lord Bradford) and his cousin Mr. William Bridgeman (now a prominent politician). A voyage otherwise singularly devoid of excitement was agitated by the discovery of one or more cases of small-pox among the Chinese on board. Every effort was made to keep this dark, but when the ukase went forth that every passenger who had not been vaccinated recently must undergo the operation, no doubt remained as to the truth of the rumours current. Fortunately my husband, my daughter, myself, and my maid had all been vaccinated just before leaving Sydney, but we still felt anxious about possible quarantine at Victoria—the port on the Island of Vancouver—thetown being on the mainland. Nothing happened, however, andifthe ship’s doctor perjured himself, andifthe captain did not contradict him, I trust that the Recording Angel did not set it down, as the relief of the passengers was indeed great.
The truth afterwards so forcibly expressed by Rudyard Kipling was brought home to us when landing on Canadian shores:
“Take ’old of the Wings o’ the mornin’,An’ flop round the earth till you’re dead;But you won’t get away from the tune that they playTo the bloomin’ old rag over’ead.”
Every morning at Sydney we were aroused by “God Save the Queen” from the men-of-war in the harbour just below Government House, and at Vancouver we found the whole population busy celebrating Queen Victoria’s Birthday. At the hotel nobody was left in charge but a boy of fourteen, a most intelligent youth who somehow lodged and fed us. Next day we were anxious to find him and recognise his kind attentions before leaving, but evidently in his case sport outweighed possible tips, for he had gone to the races without giving us a chance.
Vancouver had a curiously unfinished appearance when we saw it, houses just arising and streets laid out but not completed. I have heard, and fully believe, that it has since become a very fine city, rising as it does just within the Gateway to the Pacific, though it is of Victoria that Rudyard Kipling (to quote him again) sings:
“From East to West the tested chain holds fast,The well-forged link rings true.”
The Directors of the Canadian Pacific had most kindly assigned a private car to our use, but we hadarrived a little before we had been expected, and as our time was limited we travelled in the ordinary train as far as Glacier, where we slept and the car caught us up.
Glacier in the Rockies well deserved its name, as we found ourselves once more in the midst of ice and frozen snow such as we had not seen except on distant mountains for over two years. We were allowed to attach the car to the through trains, and detach it to wait for another, as desired, which gave us the chance of seeing not only the great mountains and waterfalls as we flew by, but also of admiring at leisure some of the more famous places.
From Winnipeg our luxurious car with its bedrooms and living-rooms all complete took us down as far as St. Paul in the States, where we joined the ordinary train for Chicago. I think that it was at St. Paul that we had our first aggravating experience of American independence, which contrasted with the courtesy of Japan. A number of passengers had some twenty-five minutes to secure luncheon (or dinner, I forget which) before the departure of the next train. Unfortunately they depended almost entirely on the ministrations of a tall and gaily attired young woman; still more unfortunately one or two of them rashly requested her to make haste. Her vengeance was tranquil but sure. She slowly and deliberately walked round, placing a glass of iced water near each guest. It was hot enough to render iced water acceptable, but not to the exclusion of other food.
COLUMBUS DISCOVERS AMERICA
We included Chicago in our wanderings for the purpose of seeing the great Exhibition which was by way of celebrating the fourth centenary of Columbus’s discovery of America. A schoolboy once described the life and exploits of Columbus to this effect: “Columbuswas a man who could make an egg stand on end without breaking it. He landed in America and saw a Chief and a party of men and said to them, ‘Are you the savages?’ ‘Yes,’ said the Chief; ‘are you Columbus?’ ‘Yes,’ said Columbus. Then the Chief turned to his men and said, ‘It’s of no use; we’re discovered at last.’” Whether Columbus would have taken the trouble to discover America if he could have seen in a vision New York, Niagara, and a few other phenomena I know not, but I am sure he would have never gone out of his way to discover Chicago.
My sister-in-law, Mrs. Rowland Leigh, has told me that her grandfather sold a great part of the land on which Chicago now stands for a pony for her grandmother to ride upon. With all due respect he made a great mistake in facilitating the erection of this overgrown, bumptious, and obtrusive city. It may have improved in the past thirty years, but I can conceive of no way in which it could have become attractive.
It was horribly hot when we arrived, but a chilling and unhealthy wind blew from Lake Michigan, on which it stands, which gave us all chest colds, and we heard that these were prevalent throughout the city. Then the streets were badly laid and dirty. I think that the inhabitants burnt some peculiar kind of smoky fuel. They were very proud of this Exhibition, which looked well, on the lines of the White City at Shepherd’s Bush. It was made ofPhormium tenax(New Zealand flax) plastered over with white composition, and as it stood near some part of the Lake which had been arranged to accommodate it the white buildings reflected in the blue water had a picturesque effect. The only part of the interior which really impressed me was a building (not white) representing the old monastery whereColumbus had lived for some time in Spain. This was filled with a very interesting loan collection of objects connected with his life and times.
The citizens of Chicago had invited a large variety of crowned heads and princely personages to attend the Exhibition as their guests, but previous engagements had been more prevalent than acceptances. They had succeeded in securing a Spanish Duke who was a lineal descendant of Columbus, and he and his family had been the prominent features of their ceremonies to date. Shortly before we came great excitement had arisen because it was announced that the Infanta Eulalia, aunt of the King of Spain, and a real genuine Princess, would honour the city and Exhibition with her royal presence. Two problems had thereupon to be solved. What would they do with the Duke? They no longer wanted a minor luminary when a star of the first magnitude was about to dawn above their horizon. That was promptly settled. They put the poor grandee into a train for New York on a Friday and told him that they would continue to frank him until the Monday, after which date he would be “on his own.” He was said to have declared himself highly satisfied with the arrangement, as this would leave him free to enjoy himself after his own fashion during the remainder of his sojourn in America. I only hope that they had paid his return tickets by steamboat, but I never heard how that was managed.
THE MAYOR CUTS HIS HAIR
The Duke being thus disposed of, problem two required far more serious consideration. The Mayor of Chicago was a “man of the people” and had never condescended to wear a tall hat, in fact he had such a bush of hair that he could not have got one on to his head; and as a sort of socialist Samson whose politicalstrength lay in his locks, he had steadily declined to cut it. So day by day the Chicago papers came out with: “Will H. [I forget his exact name] cut his hair?” “Will he wear a tall hat?” And when the great day came and the Infanta was met at the station by the Conscript Fathers, a pæan of joy found voice in print: “He wore a tall hat.” “He has cut his hair.” I cannot say whether the pillars of the municipal house fell upon him at the next election.
I do not feel sure of the official designation of the sturdy citizens who ultimately received the Infanta. They may have constituted the Municipality or the Council of the Exhibition, very likely both combined. One thing, however, is certain: no Princess of Romance was more jealously guarded by father, enchanter, giant, or dwarf than Eulalia by her Chicago hosts. The first knight-errant to meet his fate was our old Athens friend, Mr. Fearn. He was Head of the Foreign Section of the Exhibition, a highly cultured man, had held a diplomatic post in Spain, where he had known the Infanta, and could speak Spanish. When he heard that she was coming he engaged sixteen rooms at the Virginia Hotel (where we were staying) and arranged to give her a reception. Could this be allowed? Oh, no! Mr. Fearn could converse with her in her own tongue and no one else would be able to understand what was said—the party had to be cancelled.
Then H.R.H. was to visit the Foreign Section, and Mr. Fearn, who naturally expected to be on duty, invited various friends, including ourselves, to be present in the Gallery of the rather fine Entrance Hall. Mr. Fearn, Head of the Section, to receive the Princess on arrival? Not at all—why, she might think that he was the most important person present. Mr. Fearnmight hide where he pleased, but was to form no part of the Reception Committee.
They wanted to take away his Gallery, but there he put his foot down. His friends were coming and must have their seats. So he sat with us and we watched the proceedings from above. I must say that they were singularly unimpressive. The Infanta arrived escorted by some big, uncomfortable-looking men, while a few little girls strewed a few small flowers on the pavement in front of her. I heard afterwards that H.R.H., who was distinctly a lady of spirit, was thoroughly bored with her escort, and instead of spending the hours which they would have desired in gazing on tinned pork, jam-pots, and machinery, insisted on disporting herself in a kind of fair called, I think, the Midway Pleasance, where there were rows of little shops and a beer-garden. She forced her cortège to accompany her into the latter and to sit down and drink beer there. They were duly scandalised, but could not protest. The Infanta was put up at the P—— Hotel owned by a couple of the same name. The husband had avowedly risen from the ranks, and the wife, being very pretty and having great social aspirations, had left Mr. P. at home when she journeyed to Europe. They were very rich and had a house in Chicago in the most fashionable quarter on the shores of the Lake, and gave a great party for the Princess to which were bidden all the élite of the city.
It appeared, however, that the royal guest did not discover till just as she was setting forth that her hosts were identical with her innkeepers, and the blue blood of Spain did not at all approve the combination. It was too late to back out of the engagement, but her attitude at the party induced rather a frost, and hertemper was not improved by the fact that a cup of coffee was upset over her gown.
THE PAGEANT “AMERICA”
I cannot say that I saw this, for, though we received a card for the entertainment, it came so late that we did not feel called upon to make an effort to attend. The lady’s sense of humour, however, was quite sufficient to enable her to see the quaint side of her reception generally, in fact I chanced to hear when back in England that she had given to some of our royal family much the same account that is here recorded. It is not to be assumed, nevertheless, that Chicago Society does not include charming and kindly people. Among the most prominent were, and doubtless are, the McCormicks, some of whom we had known in London, and who exerted themselves to show us hospitality. Mrs. McCormick, head of the clan, gave us a noble luncheon, previous to which we were introduced to about thirty McCormicks by birth or marriage. “I guess you’ve got right round,” said one when we had shaken hands with them all. Mrs. McCormick Goodhart took us to see a great spectacle called “America,” arranged at a large theatre by Imre Kiralfy, subsequently of White City fame.
The colour scheme was excellent. The historical scenes presented might be called eclectic. The Discovery of America was conducted by a page in white satin who stood on the prow of Columbus’s ship and pointed with his hand to the shore. Behind him in the vessel were grouped men-at-arms whose gold helmets were quite untarnished by sea-spray. Perhaps they had been kept in air-tight boxes till the Discovery was imminent and then brought out to do honour to the occasion. The next scene which I recollect was the arrival of the Pilgrim Fathers in an Indian village.The Fathers, in square-cut coats and Puritan headgear, stood round the village green, and did not turn a hair, while young women danced a ballet in front of them. After all, I saw a ballet danced in after years at the Church Pageant at Fulham, so there is no reason why the Pilgrim Fathers should not have enjoyed one when it came their way. The final climax, however, was a grand agricultural spectacle with a great dance of young persons with reaping-hooks. This was a just tribute to the McCormick family, who were the great manufacturers of agricultural implements and thereby promoted the prosperity of Chicago.
On leaving Chicago we wended our way to Niagara. I am free to confess that we had seen so much grandeur and beauty, and particularly such picturesque waterfalls, in Japan, that we did not approach any scene in the New World with the thrill of expectation which we might have nursed had we come fresh from more prosaic surroundings, but Niagara swept away any vestige of indifference or sight-weariness. It is not for me to describe it. I can only say that we were awe-struck by the unending waters rushing with their mighty volume between the rocks and beneath the sun. When we sometimes tried to select the sights which we had seen most worthy of inclusion in the Nine Wonders of the World, neither my husband nor I ever hesitated to place Niagara among the foremost.
At New York we stayed two or three nights waiting for our ship. It was very hot, and most of our American friends away at the seaside or in the country. My chief impressions were that the waiting at the otherwise comfortable Waldorf Hotel was the slowest I had ever come across; and that the amount of things “verboten” in the Central Park was worthy of Berlin. Inone place you might not drive, in another you might not ride, in a third mounted police were prepared to arrest you if you tried to walk. Really, except in wartime, England is the one place where you can do as you like. However, I am sure that New York had many charms if we had had time and opportunity to find them out.
We sailed in the White Star shipMajestic, and after a pleasant crossing reached England towards the end of June 1893. The country was terribly burnt up after a hot and dry spell, but we were very happy to be at home again, and to find our friends and relations awaiting us at Euston.
BACK AT OSTERLEY
My daughter was just in time for two or three balls at the end of the London season, the first being at Bridgewater House. She and I were both delighted to find that our friends had not forgotten us, and that she had no lack of partners on her somewhat belated “coming out.” We were also in time to welcome our friends at a garden party at Osterley, and to entertain some of them from Saturdays to Mondays in July.
Then began many pleasant summers when friends young and old came to our garden parties, and also to spend Sundays with us at Osterley, or to stay with us in the autumn and winter at Middleton. Looking back at their names in our Visitors’ Book, it is at once sad to feel how many have passed away and consoling to think of the happy days in which they shared, and particularly to remember how some, now married and proud parents of children, found their fate in the gardens at Osterley or in the boat on the Lake.
It would be difficult to say much of individuals, but I could not omit recording that among our best and dearest friends were Lord and Lady Northcote. Ifind their names first in the list of those who stayed with us July 1st-3rd, 1893, and their friendship never failed us—his lasted till death and hers is with me still.
Before, however, I attempt any reminiscences of our special friends, I would mention yet two more expeditions which had incidents of some interest.
In 1895 Lady Galloway and I were again in Rome, and I believe that it was on this occasion that we were received by Queen Margaret, whose husband King Umberto was still alive. She was a charming and beautiful woman with masses of auburn hair. She spoke English perfectly and told us how much she admired English literature, but I was rather amused by her expressing particular preference forThe Strand Magazine—quite comprehensible really, as even when one knows a foreign tongue fairly well, it is always easier to read short stories and articles in it than profounder works. She also liked much of Rudyard Kipling, but found some of his writings too difficult. Later on I sent Her Majesty the “Recessional,” and her lady-in-waiting wrote to say that she had read and re-read the beautiful verses.
A former Italian Ambassador told me that when the present King was still quite young some members of the Government wanted him removed from the care of women and his education confided to men. The Queen, however, said, “Leave him to me, and I will make a man of him.” “And,” added my informant, “she did!”
THE DAHABYAH “HERODOTUS”
Later in the year my husband engaged a dahabyah, theHerodotus, to take us up the Nile, and we left England on January 22nd, 1896, to join it. Margaret and Mary went with us, and we sailed from Marseilles for Alexandria in theSénégal, a Messageries boat which was oneof the most wretched old tubs that I have ever encountered. How it contrived to reach Alexandria in a storm was a mystery, the solution of which reflects great credit on its captain. We had a peculiar lady among our fellow-passengers, who, when Columbus was mentioned, remarked that he was the man who went to sea in a sack. We believe that she confused him with Monte Cristo.
Anyhow we reached Cairo at last, where we were joined by Lady Galloway, who had been staying with Lord and Lady Cromer at the Agency, and we joined our dahabyah—a very comfortable one—at Gingeh on February 4th. As we had a steam-tug attached, we were happily independent of wind and current, and could stop when we pleased—no small consideration. We realised this when, reaching Luxor three days later, we met with friends who had been toiling upstream for a month, unable to visit any antiquities on the way, as whenever they wanted to do so the wind, or other phenomena, became favourable to progress. I ought not to omit having met Nubar Pasha, the Egyptian statesman, at Cairo, a dear old man, with a high esteem for the English, who, he said, had a great respect for themselves, and for public opinion. At first sight those two sentiments seem not altogether compatible, but on thinking over his remark one perceives how they balance each other.
At El Ballianeh, another stopping-place on our voyage to Luxor, we found the town decorated in honour of the Khedive’s lately married sister, who was making an expedition up the Nile. Her husband, having modern tendencies, was anxious that she should ride like the English ladies, and had ordered a riding-habit for her, but only one boot, as he only saw one of theEnglishwomen’s feet. Had he lived in the present year of grace his vision would not have been so limited.
Near Karnak, E. F. Benson and his sister were busy excavating the Temple of Mant. Miss Benson had a concession and excavated many treasures, while her brother no doubt drew out of the desert his inspiration forThe Image in the Sand, published some years later.
In pre-war days we used to say that the Nile was like Piccadilly and Luxor resembled the Bachelors’ Club, so many friends and acquaintances passed up and down the river, but on this particular voyage the aspect which most impressed my husband and myself was the dominating influence of the Sirdar, Lord Kitchener. We only saw him personally for a few minutes, as he was with his staff on a tour of inspection, but wherever we met officers of any description there was an alertness, and a constant reference to “The Sirdar!” “The Sirdar has ordered,” “The Sirdar wishes.” A state of tension was quite evident, and soon proved to be justified.
No one quite knew when and where the Mahdi would attack, everybody was on the look-out for hidden Dervishes. At Assouan we had luncheon with the officers stationed there, Major Jackson (now Sir Herbert) and others, who were most hospitable and amusing. I must confess that though they were more than ready for the Dervishes, they were specially hot against the French. Of course at that time the feeling on both sides was very bitter; it was long before the days of the entente, and any French officer who made friends with an Englishman had a very bad mark put against his name by his superiors.
Either at Assouan or Philæ, where Captain Lyons entertained us, we heard a comical story of a tall Englishmanin a café at Cairo. He was alone, and three or four French officers who were sitting at a little table began to make insulting remarks about the English. This man kept silent until one of them put out his foot as he passed, plainly intending to trip him up. Thereupon he seized his assailant and used him as a kind of cudgel or flail wherewith to belabour his companions. Naturally the others jumped up and attacked in their turn, and the Englishman, outnumbered, must have had the worst of it had not the girl behind the counter suddenly taken his part and aimed a well-directed shower of empty bottles at the Frenchmen, who thereupon found discretion the better part of valour and retreated.
ESCAPE OF SLATIN PASHA
Major Jackson gave us a graphic account of the arrival of Slatin Pasha after his escape from Omdurman after eleven years’ captivity. He said that a dirty little Arab merchant arrived at his quarters claiming to be Slatin Pasha. He knew that Slatin had been prisoner, but did not know of his escape, and felt doubtful of his identity. “However,” said he, “I put him into a bedroom and gave him some clothes and a cake of Sunlight Soap, and there came out a neat little Austrian gentleman.” I have always thought what a large bakshish Major Jackson might have received from the proprietor of Sunlight Soap had he given them that tale for publication. I believe that Major Burnaby had £100 for mentioning the effect of Cockle’s Pills on some native chief in hisRide to Khiva. However, Slatin managed to convince his hosts that he was himself, despite that he had almost forgotten European customs and languages during his long slavery. At Assouan we were obliged to abandon our nice dahabyah and transfer ourselves to a shaky and hot stern-wheelercalled theTanjore, as the large dahabyah could not travel above the First Cataract and we wanted to go to Wady Halfa. There was some doubt as to whether we could go at all, and the stern-wheeler had to form one of a fleet of four which were bound to keep together and each to carry an escort of six or seven Soudanese soldiers for protection. What would have happened had a strong force of dervishes attacked us I do not know, but fortunately we were unmolested. Of the other three stern-wheelers one was taken by the Bradley Martins, Cravens, and Mrs. Sherman, and the other two were public.
We had an object-lesson on the advantages of a reputation for being unamiable. On board one of the public stern-wheelers was a certain F. R., author and journalist, with his wife and daughter. Jersey overheard Cook’s representative giving special injunctions to the agent in charge of this boat to keep F. R. in good humour, as he might make himself very disagreeable. Whether he did anything to damage the firm I know not, but I know that he bored his fellow-passengers so much that on the return journey they either transferred themselves to the fourth boat or waited for another, anything rather than travel back with the R.’s. So the R.’s secured a whole stern-wheeler to themselves.
I have carefully refrained from any description of the well-known temples and tombs, which record the past glories of the cities of the Nile, but I must say a word of the wonderful rock temple of Rameses II at Abu Simbal, close on the river banks. We saw it by moonlight, which added much to the effect of the great pylon cut in the rock with its four sitting figures of the king, each 66 feet high. Small figures stand by the knees of the colossi, who look solemnly out over theriver unmoved by the passing centuries. Inside the rock is a large corridor with eight great Osiride figures guarding its columns, and within are smaller chambers with sculptured walls.