CHAPTER XV.

THE MIKADO'S BIRTHDAY FÊTE.

THIS (November 3) is the Mikado's birthday, and his faithful people, who do not often have the chance of beholding his sacred person, have had opportunity provided of at least looking upon the closed carriage that contained it and the horses that drew it. Mutsu Hito, the reigning Emperor of Japan, was born in Kioto, on the 3rd of November, 1852. He succeeded to the throne on the death of his father, on the 13th of February, 1867, and was crowned at Kioto in October of the following year. It is customary for Mikados to select a name to designate the era of their reign. Mutsu Hito calls his era "Mei-ji," and in all official documents and records time is so kept. Thus it was in the first year of Mei-ji (February 9, 1869) that the Emperor took him to wife Haruko, daughter of a Japanese noble of the first rank, who is

two years the junior of her Imperial consort. Of this union there are two children-YoshiHito, the Prince Imperial, now in his third year, and Akika, a little girl two years of age. Mutsu Hito is the hundred and twenty-first Emperor of a family that runs back in unbroken line to Jimmu Jenno, a warrior king who reigned six hundred and sixty years before Christ.

The celebration of the august event to-day commenced with a review of the troops in a large open space adjoining the Foreign Office. By eight o'clock in the morning some eight thousand men, horse, foot, and artillery, were under arms. Half an hour later came the foreign Ministers, in full uniform, and the small number of private persons privileged to enter the enclosures. Outside in the broad street that flanks the review-ground, and along which his Majesty would drive, there were gathered a few thousand spectators; but, considering the rarity and importance of the occasion, popular excitement was kept well in hand. In the bay the foreign menof-war were flagged, and in due time salutes were fired. The Foreign Office was gaily decked with arches of evergreen and chrysanthemum, and displayed festoons of Chinese lanterns in anticipation of the night's festivi

ties. But for the most part Tokio went its ordinary way, scarcely seeming to know that this was the anniversary of a stupendous event.

A few minutes after nine o'clock the white plumes of the Lancers of the Imperial Body Guard were seen advancing along the road. In the middle of the escort was a plain brougham, with closed windows, drawn by a pair of bay horses. As the cavalcade passed through the crowd in the streets no cheer was raised or sign of welcome or recognition given on either hand. When the Mikado's carriage entered the grounds the silence was broken by the thunder of artillery and the strains of three bands, all playing the national anthem. The brilliant throng of foreign Ministers, plumed and epauletted-many of them wearing the insignia of high orders— were gathered in a pavilion near the saluting point. Close by us was a smaller tent, embroidered with the Imperial chrysanthemum. Inside was set a richly lacquered chair and a table covered with a gorgeous cloth.

In attendance were a number of dismallooking men, with respect to whom it was, after prolonged consideration, hard to decide whether they were mutes from a funeral establishment or city waiters who had been up all night. They were dressed in black European

suits made for somebody else, and apparently not out of the clothes-press since the last birthday. Each had a chimney-pot hat, of various antique makes, and every man's hands were loosely hidden in white-cotton gloves several sizes too large. These were, I finally ascertained, the servants of the Imperial household in their best clothes.

The Mikado, leaving the brougham, mounted a nice little bay pony with yellow reins, and, followed by his staff and military attachés of the foreign Ministries, slowly rode round the ranks of the soldiery stiffly standing at attention. The Mikado is thirty-one years of age, tall, but not graceful in figure. He has the sallow complexion and black hair of the Japanese. Except for something of sensuality about the thick lips and heavy jaws, his face has about as much expression as a brick wall. His seat on horseback is the most remarkable I ever saw. Holding a yellow rein in either hand, with elbows squared, he leaned over the pony's neck as if he were about to get off in that direction without assistance. Thus he sat whilst he walked the pony round, and thus he remained, blankly staring straight ahead whilst the troops marched past.

The start was a little unfortunate. One

of the princes of the Imperial family lost the epaulette from his left shoulder, and was nearly thrown whilst endeavouring to fasten it on. Half-way across the review-ground the Minister of War's horse bolted, presently depositing its rider in the roadway, where he was picked up and brought back in a carriage happily unhurt. But what an augury at a military display of a great Empire!

The Mikado, always desperately clutching the yellow reins, walked his pony round the field in safety, and taking up his position at the saluting point, the march past began. As a military display the review can scarcely have been imposing to the German Minister who critically surveyed the scene. Immediately after the Restoration the French army was taken as the model of the Imperial forces of Japan. After Sedan it was thought that on the whole the German system would be a a safer model. Amid these changes the Japanese regiments have not perfected themselves in drill. But the men, though small, are hardy fellows, and, as was shown during the Satsuma rebellion and in other civil wars, they are full of fight.

The honours of the day were unanimously voted to the artillery, who trotted past in smart style. The soldiers of the line were