The Log of the Empire State | Page 9

Park. Here the Japanese journey miles to see a statue. The old scholars always preached the potency of something half concealed to stimulate the imagination, but it took a Japanese sage to conceive the idea of building a fine statue of a favorite war hero and then to bury it. And now thousands come to Kyoto to the very spot where the statue is buried, imagining its proportions, and praying for strength and success in their encounters.
We were told that the belief that the Emperor is a God-like being is strengthened by the fact that he is never seen and therefore his people's glorified imagery of him is never shattered. We were told that the Emperor is seen only by a carefully selected group twice a year, once at the Cherry Blossom season and once at the Chrysanthemum Festival, and if it rains on these days the reception is put off for another year.
Why, the mystery of the Orient was even found in our menus, and it did not take long for the Pandoras of our party to find out that "Bubble and Squeak" was good old ham and eggs and "Angels under Cover" were oysters wrapped in bacon.
After official business was over for the day, the party "did" Theatre Street, where our own movie queens reigned beside some poster depicting a Japanese soldier fighting a dragon. Byron Mauzy told us that our jazz music is often called for and that pianos with a specially made case to withstand the dampness, were in demand.
Our party found out why someone said, "There is as much red-tape necessary to go through a Japanese palace as there is to get married," for we faced the grim-armed soldiers at the outer gates, but were not allowed to enter until our credentials had been carefully inspected. Then we were permitted to go into a small outer room where we wrote our names, addresses, etc., in a large book. After a scrutiny of this and a long wait, giving them sufficient time to telephone and see if our passes were authentic, we were formally escorted through beautifully carved portals, past endless, handsomely decorated, empty rooms, over the squeaky door sill (that is supposed to warn the inmates of someone's approach) and finally to the canopied gold-mounted throne itself.
We began to feel a little easier, when we got out in the sun of the garden, but even there we felt formal, for in these sacred gardens no gay flower or dashing stream is permitted. Nature, too, must be subdued, and even the little trickle of water circling the buildings, was there for the sole purpose of suggesting purity, we were informed.
After the reception and investigation tour of Kobe, forty of the party boarded a train for Peking, under the direction of Hoover's representative, F. R. Eldridge.
We had enjoyed Fujiyama by moonlight, but did not know that we were also to glide by the Inland Sea at sunset. Korea's roads, built of course, by the Japanese soldiers, and the guarded stations of Manchuria, were of much interest to the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce investigators.
Every evening impromptu speeches on conditions were held in the dining car. M. A. Gale, Henry S. Bridge, and Louis Mooser also vied with each other telling funny stories, Carl Westerfeld contributing to the entertainment by organizing a group of the party into "The South Manchurian Quartet." Dave and Resse Lewellyn started to sing "Annie Rooney" and "Mother McCree" whenever things were too quiet.
We stopped long enough at Seoul, Korea, to talk to representatives of trade and commerce and to chat with the "Grand Old Man of Korea," before arriving in Peking.

Chapter VII

Our stay in three-thousand year-old Peking was too short, for besides investigating conditions, attending our Minister Shurman's reception, visiting the country home of the former Prime Minister Hsuing Hsi-Ling, we would have enjoyed spending more time seeing The Summer Palace, The Jade Fountain and the Temple of Heaven to say nothing of studying conditions.
About one-thirty, when the gay dance had ended at Hotel de Peking, which by the way, would be a credit to London or New York, we took an hour's rickshaw ride in the moonlight to the Forbidden City. The solemn pom-pom-pom of the funeral dirge for the Mother of the heir to the Chinese Throne, was indescribably impressive. About eighty men bore the casket from the dwelling to its canopied hearse. One of the mourner's told us that the fourteen-year-old heir to the throne, had not cared much, when all his playthings were taken from him, or even when his throne was taken, but that now he was inconsolable over the loss of his mother.
After seeing this weird funeral procession of the last of the Ming Dynasty in the gray of early dawn, seeing a Buddha with eyes of