AN IMPERIAL GARDEN-PARTY
Silk dresses and frock-coats--A disappointed Colonel--The Royal
procession--The chrysanthemums--I am presented--A Japanese
play--Japanese royal sport--The Mikado and his subjects.
We had been in Japan nearly three months when we were invited to attend
the chrysanthemum garden-party given by the Emperor and Empress each
November in honour of His Majesty’s birthday. Invitations are sent but a
few days beforehand, as the date of the party depends on the state of
the chrysanthemums. Only the Corps Diplomatique, Government officials,
and a few globe-trotters are invited; the latter obtain their
invitations through their own Legations. As it is almost the only
occasion when Their Imperial Majesties are seen in public, I was
delighted at the idea of going.
Our invitation-cards were very large and thick, with the Imperial crest
at the top and a gold border of chrysanthemums. The writing was in
Japanese characters, but enclosed in the same envelope was a slip of
paper in French, saying that ladies were to appear in silk dresses and
gentlemen in frock-coats and top-hats. Not possessing a suitable
garment, I was puzzled at first to know what to wear, but I eventually
succeeded, with the assistance of one of the little Chinese tailors, in
converting a blue silk evening frock into one suitable for the
garden-party.
The day was fortunately fine and exceptionally warm for November. We
started from the Imperial Hotel in Tokio, where we were staying, at
about half-past one, Colonel S. and his wife from Hongkong sharing a
carriage with us.
Japanese horses are willing little beasts, not much larger than ponies.
Our coachman drove full gallop through the streets, and the ‘betto,’ or
footman, ran along in front shouting at the crowds to get out of the
way. How an accident was avoided I do not know, as the streets seem to
be the playground of all the children in Tokio; and I thought several of
the little doll-like figures must have been run over. Our driver and
betto wore dark blue linen with a crest embroidered on their backs, and
large white pith hats fastened under the chin with a strap.
[Illustration: OUR INVITATION-CARDS WERE VERY LARGE AND THICK (_p._
52).]
Colonel S., who was only passing through Japan on his way to England,
had no frock-coat with him, but in his well-cut dark suit and top-hat we
all thought he could not fail to pass muster. We were mistaken, however.
On our arrival at the palace, we were ushered into a large hall where a
row of officials in blue-and-gold uniforms were waiting to inspect us.
As the gallant Colonel passed up the room, two of the officials stepped
up to him, pointed to his frockless coat, began gesticulating wildly and
talking rapidly in Japanese, of which the Colonel did not understand a
word. My father, who speaks Japanese, attempted to explain matters, but
without success. The discomfited and disappointed officer had to retire,
leaving his wife, who fortunately had on the required silk dress, to go
on with us alone.
After walking about half a mile through the grounds, which are very
beautiful, over little bridges and up little winding paths, we arrived
at some large tents, where the chrysanthemums were on show. Numerous
groups of people were dotted about--Japanese officers and officials in
uniform; others in grotesquely-cut frock-coats and opera-hats; their
wives and daughters in European dress; also members of the different
legations and consulates. I could not help thinking how far better the
little Japanese ladies would have looked in their own national costume,
but European dress is the strict order at Court. The scene was a very
picturesque and animated one, and great excitement prevailed when, about
half-past two, the Emperor and Empress were announced to be coming. The
Corps Diplomatique arranged themselves in line--first the French
Minister as _doyen_, with his wife, daughters, secretaries, and Belgian
staff; then followed the English, German, American, Spanish, Dutch,
Italian, Russian, Chinese and Korean diplomats, the two latter looking
very picturesque in their quaint head-dresses and long robes. The
remainder of the guests stood in a group a little apart.
As the Royal procession appeared in sight, walking slowly up the winding
paths, the band played the Japanese National Anthem and there was dead
silence amongst the crowd.
The Emperor walked first in full General’s uniform, quite alone. He is a
tall man for a Japanese, stout and extremely plain. He had a stern,
somewhat forbidding expression, which he always wore in public; and as
Sir Edwin Arnold says, ‘The slightest bend of his brow in salutation
appears to be the result of superhuman effort of reluctant will.’ Yet he
is idolized by his people; it is said that his power is enormous, while
no one knows how he controls and rules the Empire from the privacy of
his walled-in palace.
Behind him walked the Empress, quite alone also, dressed in crimson
brocaded satin with a little Paris bonnet to match, followed by her
ladies-in-waiting and the Court officials and Ministers of
State--amongst them the Marquess Ito, Count Oyama, and General Yamagata,
all well-known names in Europe at the present time.
They bowed low as they passed us, and we kept up a succession of bobs
and curtsies until we joined into line and followed the procession into
the flower-tents.
[Illustration: THE GARDENS ARE VERY BEAUTIFUL (_p._ 55).]
Apparently the great feature at a chrysanthemum show, from a Japanese
point of view, is not the size and shape of each flower, but the number
of blossoms on a plant flowering at the same time. Three of the tents
contained but one enormous plant in each; with from one to two thousand
blooms all the same size and colour. We were told that one of these
plants alone requires a gardener’s entire time to look after it, as the
difficulty is to get all the flowers to perfection at once. In other
tents, chrysanthemums with small, different-coloured flowers had been
trained over wires to represent figures of people and animals, more
curious than beautiful.
After the flowers had been inspected, the Emperor and Empress entered a
large tent, where the presentations were made. Each Legation went in
turn to felicitate the Emperor on his birthday and to bow to the
Empress. All had to walk backwards out of the tent past the Court ladies
and officials--not an easy task. With some the Emperor said a few words.
His face when smiling lighted up, changing his morose expression to one
of almost benevolence. I own to feeling horribly nervous when my turn
came to be presented by our Minister’s wife, and breathed a sigh of
relief when I returned safe and sound from the Royal tent without having
utterly disgraced myself by tumbling over my train, or knocking down one
of the little officials who were stationed at every available corner.
Small tables were placed about on the grass, and we were offered
sandwiches of foie-gras, caviare and chicken, creams, ices, and
champagne.
It was amusing to watch some of the Japanese guests, not only partaking
of a hearty meal, but quietly secreting sweetmeats and cakes in their
pockets, probably for some little child at home.
The royal party, after having some light refreshment at a table a little
apart from the rest, then rose to leave. The National Anthem was again
played, and we all followed as we liked.
At one end of the gardens a play was going on. No stage, only a ring of
chairs and a big sheet. The actors were being made up and dressed in
sight of everyone. Men clothed in black, with masks, arranged the
scenes, and were supposed to be invisible. The play was ‘The Forty-seven
Ronins.’ All the Japanese in the audience held handkerchiefs to their
eyes and wept copiously, although I failed to see anything at all
pathetic in the wild gesticulations of the actors. The famous Danjiro
was there--the Irving of Japan. Amongst the audience the poetess of the
Empress was pointed out to us, a curiously shrivelled-up little lady in
a stiff green-and-white brocade, with a large bustle, green shoes and
stockings, and a wonderful erection of flowers and feathers on her head.
This costume must have done duty on these occasions for many years, to
judge by its antique style; but the little lady was evidently very proud
of her toilette. Three of the young Princesses, pretty little girls,
with round, merry faces and bright dark eyes, were also spectators. We
did not see the Crown Prince, a delicate, consumptive youth, already
married and a father. The Empress is not his mother. She is childless,
but the Japanese law has sanctioned the adoption of this boy, the son of
one of the Emperor’s unofficial wives, as heir to the throne. I am told,
however, that the Crown Prince looks upon the Empress as his mother.
The Emperor has five unofficial wives, all ladies of good family, who
have separate establishments in the palace grounds, but are never seen
in public; in fact, of the private life of the palace the outside world
knows nothing. Japan is one of the oldest dynasties in the world, and
the Japanese were living very much as they do now, except for electric
light and European dress, when we Westerners were savages in blue paint
and feathers.
In another part of the palace grounds are the duck-ponds and decoys. The
killing of these wild duck, which come in great quantities every winter
to the moat and decoys, is held to be a royal sport in Japan, and they
are considered more or less sacred. The official who showed us the decoy
begged us to keep quite silent, and we walked on tiptoe, in single file,
up a narrow path to a small wooden hut, where we were allowed to peep at
the sacred birds through little slits in the wood. There were already
great numbers of them collected together, all apparently quite tame. The
‘sport’ is this: There are long dykes, with a high net at the end. The
‘sportsmen’ stand on either side with large hand-nets, and the duck are
driven into the dykes from the pond, and, not being able to get out,
rise, when they are caught in the nets and their necks wrung. It is
supposed to be a great disgrace to miss a bird.
We were afterwards taken to the aviaries, where we saw a collection of
birds of every description, from a Cochin-China hen to an eagle. There
was a parrot there which is known to be a hundred and twenty years old,
possibly more. They were all beautifully kept and cared for. One of the
attendants amused us by saying: ‘Is it not a sign of the Emperor’s good
heart to have so many birds?’ But when we asked him how often His
Majesty came to see them, he said: ‘Oh, he never _comes_ here.’
The Imperial Palace is an enormous building of wood surrounded by a
moat. The rooms are decorated with valuable paintings, the walls hung
with ‘kakimomos’ by celebrated Japanese artists, and old embroideries;
the Emperor also possesses a priceless collection of gold lacquer and
ivories. The palace is fitted up with electric light, but the Emperor
considers it dangerous, so the rooms are lighted by thousands of
candles.
The palace grounds cover many acres in the centre of Tokio--the highest
position in the city. Imperial etiquette forbids that the ruler of the
Land of the Rising Sun should be looked down upon from any point of
view; therefore from his palace windows _he_ can look down upon every
part of the city. For the same reason, on the rare occasions when His
Majesty passes through the streets of the city, orders are given for all
the upstair window-blinds to be lowered.
[Illustration: BUTCHER’S.]
[Illustration:
UMBRELLA SHOP.
QUAINT SIGNBOARDS IN SOME OF THE STREETS, TOKIO.
]
Formerly men, women, and children fell on their faces as the royal
carriage passed by; now they only bow low, in token of their awe and
respect.
[Illustration: POULTRY AND EGG SHOP.]
[Illustration:
JAPANESE TAILOR.
QUAINT SIGNBOARDS IN SOME OF THE STREETS, TOKIO.
]
Soon after our arrival in Tokio I had a rather startling experience. I
was standing in one of the streets to watch the Emperor drive past in
his carriage, when suddenly my hat was wrenched off my head, and I was
pushed forward violently by some heavy hand. On looking round, I saw an
officious little policeman glaring at me, my poor hat in his clutches.
Not until the procession had disappeared from view could I understand
what had happened, but remained meek and hatless. It seems the little
man considered my attitude towards his Sovereign was not sufficiently
humble, and took this somewhat drastic way of correcting me. I must say
this was the only occasion when I have experienced the slightest
rudeness or incivility in the streets of a Japanese town, although I do
not consider that foreigners are altogether beloved in Japan.
An artist who painted the portraits of the Emperor and Empress told me
that he had been obliged to do them almost entirely from photographs, as
their Imperial Majesties are far too sacred to pose as models. On one
occasion he persuaded one of the Court officials to allow him to stand
behind a curtain at a Royal banquet. Through the curtain he made a
little hole, and was thus enabled to get a glimpse at the Emperor.
Another time he waited patiently for hours at some place where the
Empress was to pass; but on her arrival all present were obliged to bow
their heads in obeisance, and the poor man could see nothing. However,
the likenesses were considered good, and the artist received three
thousand dollars for each picture, as well as a large medal, of which he
is very proud.