THE MIKADO'S THIRTY-THREE DINNERS.
The sublime Son of the Gods was bored. He sat cross-legged on a raised
dais covered with mats, between curtains of gold brocade which hung
from the ceiling and were drawn back in heavy folds on either side. A
succession of rooms opened, one from another, before the monarch's gaze.
He thought that he was very majestic; then he yawned.
The one hundred and ninth Mikado, Go-Mitzou-No, although young, was
excessively fat,--made so, no doubt, by the almost constant inaction of
his life. His face was pale, no ray of sun ever resting on it; several
chins reposed upon his breast; his purple robes fell about him in ample
folds; the lofty plate of gold adorned his brow. At his right were
arranged all the insignia of his omnipotence,--the sword, the mirror,
and the iron tablet.
The Mikado found his existence monotonous. Every action of his life was
arranged in advance, and must be accomplished in accordance with the
most minute etiquette. If he left the precincts of the palace, he was
shut up in a superb vehicle drawn by buffaloes; but he felt suffocated
in that close box, and preferred to remain on his throne. If he wished
to admire the flowers in his garden beds, he must go out in company
with a vast suite, and the annals of the kingdom made careful note
of the event. The greater part of his time was supposed to be passed
in meditation: but to tell the truth, he meditated very little; his
intellect had become blunted. When he tried to think, the strangeness
of the ideas that buzzed confusedly through his brain astonished him.
Some of his fancies were criminal, some ludicrous. The latter amused
him; but he dared not laugh, knowing that he was watched. He would
then strive to bring his mind back to celestial things; but it wearied
him, and he returned to his whimsical dreams. Sometimes he was seized
by an irresistible desire to move about, to run and jump and leap; but
that would ill comport with the silent immobility appropriate to the
descendant of the Gods. One day, however,--or rather one night, the
mysteriously achieved his desire. He slipped out of bed, and while
all around him slept, he performed a wild dance; no one ever knew
it,--at least so he thought. As he never saw anything but the bent
back of his subjects, he may really have supposed that he belonged to
a superior race, and that the common herd of men walked on all fours.
And yet he thought that they sometimes treated him like a child. His
bow and arrows were taken away, because on one occasion, while a
body of delegates from the Shogun lay prostrate before his throne,
he let fly an arrow at the highest dignitary among them. In spite of
the rage which sometimes boiled within him, he dared not rebel; his
inaction, the perpetual association with women, who alone could serve
him, had weakened his courage. He felt that he was at the mercy of his
ministers; he feared lest he should be assassinated.
And yet, at times, an immense pride took possession of him; he felt
divine blood course through his veins; he knew that the earth was not
worthy to be trodden beneath his feet, that the race of men had no
right to behold his face; and he dreamed of making thicker still the
veils which separated him from the world. Then, the very next moment,
he would fancy that perfect happiness lay in solitary rambles over the
mountains, in working in the open air, in being the lowliest of men;
then he would be seized by a vague despair, he would groan and bewail
his fate. But he was soon persuaded that his grief was nothing but a
homesick longing for heaven, his native land.
Just now the Mikado was ready to receive the envoys from Fide-Yori.
They had come to testify the latter's gratitude towards the supreme
ruler, who had conferred the title of Shogun upon him.
The curtains were drawn before the throne; then the princes were
ushered in, falling at once upon their faces, with arms extended in
front of them. After a long delay the curtain was drawn aside.
Profound silence reigned: the princes remained with their faces on the
floor, motionless.
The Mikado considered them from the height of his throne, and made
silent reflections upon the arrangement of the folds of their garments,
on a sash end which had turned over and showed him the wrong side. He
thought that the crest of Satsuma, a cross within a circle, looked like
a dormer window barred by two bamboo slats.
Then he wondered what they would all think if he were suddenly to utter
frantic yells! How he would like to see them jump up, with stupefied
faces!
In a few moments the curtain was again let down; the princes withdrew
backwards. Not one word had been uttered.
After the audience the Mikado left the platform and was stripped of his
very burdensome state dress. Robed once more in simpler garments, he
bent his steps towards the apartments in which he took his meals.
Go-Mitzou-No regarded the dinner-hour as the most agreeable moment
in the day; he prolonged it as much as he possibly could. The Mikado
liked good living; he had a decided preference for certain dishes.
On account of these preferences a terrible difficulty had formerly
arisen. The Son of the Gods could not reasonably be expected to bend
his lofty mind to the details of the kitchen and decide upon the dishes
he would eat; and yet no more could he submit to the caprices of his
cooks or his ministers. After prolonged reflection the Mikado found a
way to reconcile all parties. He ordered that thirty-three entirely
different dinners should be prepared for him every day, to be served
in thirty-three saloons. It then only remained for him to walk through
those rooms, and choose the meal that pleased him best.
Sometimes it happened that after eating one dinner he would go into
another hall and eat a second.
When he crossed the threshold of the first of the thirty-three rooms,
twelve very noble and most beautiful damsels received him. They alone
were entitled to wait upon him. Their hair, in the presence of their
lord, must be undone, and hang dishevelled in the folds of their
trailing garments.
The Mikado had seated himself on a mat before the dinner of his choice,
and had begun to eat, when the Kisaki entered, unannounced. She, too,
when appearing before the supreme master, was obliged to wear her hair
flowing loosely. Her superb black tresses were therefore unconfined,
and fell in waves to the very ground.
The Mikado raised his eyes to her in amazement, and hurriedly swallowed
the morsel that he had in his mouth.
"My beloved companion," said he, "I did not expect to see you!"
"My divine lord," she replied, "I have come to inform you that I shall
very soon lose one of my women; the fair Fatkoura is about to marry."
"Very good! very good!" said the Mikado; "and whom?"
"The Prince of Nagato."
"Ah-ha! I consent to the marriage."
"And what princess do you name to take the place of the one who is to
leave me?"
"I will name any one whom you may select."
"I thank you, master," said the Kisaki; "and I depart from your divine
presence, imploring your pardon for having dared to interrupt your
repast."
"Oh, it's no matter!" said Go-Mitzou-No, who hastened, as soon as his
wife had gone, to make up for lost time.