astic costumes, faces so heavily painted as
to have the effect of masks, were running about in groups, sometimes
as many as forty or fifty together, dancing and mumming. They
addressed us frequently with a phrase, the frequent repetition of
which impressed it upon our ears, but, in our ignorance of the
language, not upon our understandings. At times, if one laughed,
liberties were taken. These the customs of the occasion probably
justified, as in the carnivals of other peoples, which this somewhat
resembled; but there was no general concourse, as in the Corso at
Rome, which I afterwards saw--merely numerous detachments moving with
no apparent relation to one another. Once only a companion and myself
met several married women, known as such by their blackened teeth, who
bore long poles with feathers at one end, much like dusters, with
which they tapped us on the head. These seemed quite beside themselves
with excitement, but all in the best of humor.
Viewed from the distance, the general effect was very pretty, like a
stage scene. The long main street, forming part of the continuous
imperial highway known as the Tokaido, was jammed with people; the
sober, neutral tints of the majority in customary dress lighted up,
here and there, by the brilliant, diversified colors of the
performers, as showy uniforms do an assembly of civilians. The
weather, too, was for the most part in keeping. The monsoon does not
reach so far north, yet the days were like it; usually sunny, and the
air exhilarating, with frequent frost at dawn, but towards noon
genial. Such we found the prevalent character of the winter in that
part of Japan, though with occasional spells of rain and high winds,
amounting to gales of two or three days' duration.
Unhappily, these cheerful beginnings were the precursors of some very
sad events; indeed, tragedies. A week after the New Year ceremonies at
Kobe, the American squadron moved over some twelve miles to Osaka, the
other opened port, at which our minister then was. Unlike Kobe, where
the water permits vessels to lie close to the beach, Osaka is up a
river, at the mouth of which is a bar; and, owing to the shoalness of
the adjacent sea, the anchorage is a mile or two out. From it the town
cannot be seen. The morning after our arrival, a Thursday, it came on
to blow very hard from the westward, dead on shore, raising a big sea
which prevented boats crossing the bar. The gale continued over
Friday, the wind
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