You must not think that you are a person of no consequence if you do
not receive an invitation to the Mikado’s garden-party, for there are
a great many important people not always on his Majesty’s list. I
cannot tell you just what are the necessary qualifications to the royal
favour, for the presence of the entire diplomatic corps is not always
requested, the pride of many a native noble receives a fall, and no one
knows what anguish of mind the majority of the democratic Americans
in Yokohama experience at not receiving a card. Perhaps the most
fortunate thing connected with the party is the delicate flower that
is its most prominent feature; everything in Japan connected with the
cherry-blossom is sacred, and this probably accounts, to some extent,
for the chariness with which the Mikado distributes his favours. In
October the advent of the chrysanthemum is similarly observed, but this
function is not as important as that held in April. Everything depends
on the capriciousness of the cherry-blossom, and the party is given
early or late as the pink and white deign to display themselves to the
worshipping Japanese. Invitations, therefore, are issued only a few
days in advance, and are then subject to recall should circumstances
happen to prevent the spring-time flower from looking its daintiest.
[Illustration]
The invitation is written in highly-refined Japanese with a
sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum crest in gold. The party is held in the
royal Asakusa garden, and the Mikado is always present with his slim,
pretty little wife at his side. The guests are usually very punctual in
assembling; the national anthem is played with a royal sonorousness;
the Emperor and Empress, with a dignified suite, pass through the
garden with the genuine stolidity of ceremonial Japan. Presentations
are seldom made, and when there is a person of sufficient dignity and
importance for this honour, the ceremony is more stately than cordial.
The larger part of the time is spent in admiring the cherry-blossoms,
which are everywhere, and which in their early glow are of singular
beauty. All this is very well; yet it is not the Mikado or the flowers
that are likely to attract the greater part of your attention. There
is a feature of the party of more surpassing interest than these: this
is the high hat. It is this picturesque head-piece which redeems the
sombreness of the gathering, and makes it an event unique in social
life. You are probably somewhat surprised that our occidental high
hat and the delicate white and pink cherry-blossom of Japan should
have anything in common, but they do have a great deal. Several years
ago the Japanese saw that this article of dress was the very thing
needed to crown gracefully their _kimono_-clad forms, and they eagerly
took it. They borrowed it of course from western foreigners, for the
Japanese imagination is not capable of such wild flights as this.
It has so become the fashion that they now regard it with a kind of
reverence, and require its appearance on the most sacred occasions. It
is therefore specially stipulated in the Mikado’s invitations to his
parties that the gentlemen shall wear frock coats and high hats. The
ladies are left to their own judgment, and generally appear in light
calling dresses.
But this stipulation has been the cause of no end of dismay to those
foreigners so ambitious of social advancement in Japan. The American
is more likely to suffer in this respect than his European cousins. At
any rate it not unfrequently happens that when sailing for the land
of the _kimono_ you leave your high hat on western shores. And so an
invitation to the Mikado’s party affects you with mingled feelings of
apprehension and tickled vanity. It is a case where a beaver hat can
be quite a serious affair. At first you give up in despair, and decide
that the invitation must be declined, but on second thought you think
it might be well to consult your confidential Japanese friend. You
are somewhat relieved when this gentleman assures you that everything
can be arranged, and that there is nothing to prevent your attending
the party,--and in a high hat too. The Japanese friend now murmurs
something about “The Beaver Pound,” and you immediately recall certain
institutions at home where stray animals are gathered from their
wanderings, and protectingly held until the requirements of the law
are fulfilled. You are a much puzzled man; but after you have been
conducted to the place mentioned, this state of mind is likely to give
place to another. With the utmost gravity your friend discloses to you
the treasures of the place, and politely invites you to help yourself.
For here are high hats, both silk and beaver, of all sizes, ages, and
countries, and you must be a very fastidious person indeed if you find
nothing to your taste. Every time a westerner leaves a high hat behind
him it is immediately spirited away by mysterious hands, and it is
seen no more until it graces the head of a careless foreigner at some
social occasion of more than common import. By this time there is quite
a collection, ragged and marred as the coins and stamps that are a
frequent hobby with us.
[Illustration]
You had better visit the Pound early, as the hats are in great demand,
and you may have difficulty in fitting your head. You finally make a
choice; the likelihood being at best that you will have a size too
large or small, but this is only the simplest of the complications. You
are by no means the first man that has worn this hat, and it shows the
effects of many cherry-blossom parties. Occasionally a new sleek hat
finds its way into the Pound, and there is considerable competition as
to who shall secure the prize. You had better in some way exhaust all
the humour that the idea gives you before you attend the party, else
you will not have sufficient command over yourself to view the occasion
with the stoical eye of the Japanese; for the hats show off to a better
advantage from a comparative point of view. You must place a neat,
decorous, low crown of the latest style beside the parabolic curve of
several years ago to see really how funny it all is. There is the white
and drab head-piece, suggestive of the gentleman of sporting tastes,
and an occasional shaggy something that we now see only in pictorial
representations of Uncle Sam. All this is very amusing; but it is a
graver matter when a young man of eighteen has to parade around in a
widower’s weed, or a staid clergyman or pompous Member of Congress is
obliged to hide behind the trees in order to conceal the fact that his
head is adorned by one of the little peaked affairs in vogue a long
time ago. Nor are these the only things in the same line. The ladies
of the court have caught that disease which is spreading so rapidly in
Japan, -- Europamania, -- and have cast aside their beautiful native
costumes for a western dress. Their success at best is doubtful, but
there is one who seems to have managed things with a greater skill. You
will likely wonder how the Mikado’s wife can look so well when you have
heard of the difficulties she has to undergo in her desire to dress
like a European lady. Her person is too sacred to be touched by vulgar
hands, and this unfortunate fact interfered with her progressive plans
for some time, until the problem was solved by fitting her dresses upon
one of her attendants of similar height and figure. In spite of this
inconvenience, the Empress appears very well, and is one of the few
Japanese ladies who wears the European costume with dignity and grace.
Yet all this is only a fair example of what you may see in any part of
Japan. The changes that have been sweeping over the country have not
been confined to political institutions, but have affected the most
trifling details of Japanese life. It makes no matter where you go,
or the people you meet, everything bears the traces of the new lands
and peoples that have found such favour in their eyes. To any one
who has a taste for the picturesque, the attempts of the Japanese at
cosmopolitanism are an interesting field of study. The background of
their life is, of course, the Japan of ages gone by, with its Mikado,
its flowers, its sunshine, and its tea; but upon this are sprinkled the
innumerable foreign traits that make everything grotesquely amusing.
With their Mikado they have parliamentary government, and though they
are perhaps as fond of their tea as ever, they can occasionally lay it
aside for the champagne of the West, and beer flows almost as freely as
in Germany itself.
[Illustration]
We Americans may take a pride in all this, and may feel delighted
that the Japanese will christen themselves with such names as George
Washington and Abraham Lincoln; yet I have my doubts whether it is not
a mistaken idea of development that persuades us to dignify it by the
name of progress. The Japanese are extremely quick and imitative, but
like most imitative people, they are likely to perceive only what is
most obvious, and so become grotesque. They can see that there are many
attractive things about the feminine attire of the West; they fail to
see that it is not suitable to themselves. It is a question, after all,
whether it is the preferable qualities of the new things which they
meet that leads them to adopt them, or whether it is a mania simply for
what is new. At the best they are in a stage of transition. The East
is constantly touching the West, and the average Japanese to-day is
an interesting combination of the inherited traits and emotions of a
remote civilisation, and an environment too powerful to be resisted.
You will understand all this immediately, should you take a short walk
in one of the streets of a representative Japanese city. The appearance
of the people will strike you as un-Japanese. The women, as a rule, do
not now blacken their teeth, or shave their eyebrows, as you have been
brought up to suppose. There are still, it is true, many who do not
like to see these usages die out; but most of them live in the country
districts, which have naturally not been affected by the changes in
the same way that the cities have. The old women still go around with
blackened teeth, but it is because they were disfigured this way before
the innovation was introduced. The Empress adopted the new idea a few
years ago, and the people have rapidly followed. Most of the women
still wear the dress of their ancestors, yet it is doubtful whether
this is by inclination or necessity; anything in a foreign line is a
luxury, and only the higher classes can afford to follow the style.
They still retain their peculiar ambling walk, which is like a slow
run, but there are many little indications that this will be abandoned
soon.
It is in the dress of the men, however, that the greatest changes are
to be seen. The number of combinations that the average Japanese can
ring upon _kimono_ and coat and trousers, I have never yet tried to
count, but you cannot go into a city street without seeing a new one.
It is sometimes the _kimono_ and trousers, sometimes the trousers
without the _kimono_, or the _kimono_ without the trousers. They view
the derby hat with great favour, and some wear their hair long, like
an American football player. They have caught the infection of creased
trousers, and take satisfaction in rolling up the ends of them in
the clearest weather. I once saw an enthusiastic and progressive Jap
walking stolidly through the streets with a small stiff hat perched
on the back of his head, with his _kimono_ turned up in the back,
disclosing a pair of flannel underdrawers, white stockings, and laced
American shoes, the whole gracefully consummated by a cane, which he
swung jauntily as he marched along. The conscious pride that he took
in this outfit was something delightful to see, and the serious and
possibly envious glances showered upon him by his friends showed that
he was a centre of admiration.
I was surprised one day by a vehicle that I saw slowly creeping up one
of the streets of Tokio. It was a small affair, with a single horse in
front, the approach of which was announced by the mournful jingle of a
bell. At a distance the equipage looked like a little yellow box, and
it was some time before I could convince myself that it was a sorry
specimen of that most American of institutions,--a horse-car. I learned
later that it was only Tokio that could boast of such an incongruity,
and the contented and proud air of the driver was in itself an
indication that his position was an unusual one. It was rather the idea
of the thing that was so delightful, for so far as convenience was
concerned, the slow motion of the car could not be thought much of an
improvement over the _jinrikisha_.
I have a Japanese friend who had been educated in America and had
adopted our ways, who relates an amusing experience he had in
connection with this strange innovation. The cars have bells and
conductors after the American plan; but, unlike our custom, they
are used for the purpose for which they are designed. My friend did
not know this, and so when he wished to alight he walked out to the
platform and jumped off while the car was in motion. He had not gone
far, however, when he saw the conductor running frantically after him,
with an air of the utmost consternation. The car was stopped, and quite
a crowd collected to watch the outcome of the dispute. My friend was
astonished, and completely in the dark as to what it all meant, when
the conductor in angry tones asked him how he dared to disregard the
law by alighting from a horse-car while it was going at full speed?
The accused man protested his ignorance of such a statute; but the
conductor was unpacified, and threatened to call a policeman. It was
only when he learned that his unruly passenger had lately returned
from America, where they do all kinds of barbarous things, and where he
had learned to disregard the conductor, that he consented to let him
go. My friend received a solemn warning never to repeat the act, and on
so promising was reluctantly released.
Many other things in the streets will remind you of home. It is nothing
strange to see a bicycle come leisurely down the street, perched upon
by a Jap clad in the combination of trousers and _kimono_ that most
strikes his fancy. The electric light is rapidly being introduced. The
Japanese have their policeman, and they dress him after the European
style. He has a blue uniform, a small peaked hat, and a club,--but here
the comparison must cease. He does not exactly know what to do with
all the power bestowed upon him, and he will never arrest a man except
on extreme provocation. When he does decide to enforce the dignity of
the law, he calmly goes up to his prisoner, ties his hands together
with a hempen rope, and leads him off with the utmost gentleness.
The English language suffers at the hands of our commercial friends,
and their attempts to catch the American trade in this way reveal many
startling things. One shop informs us that “cakes and infections” are
found within; but the best thing in this line I have seen, is the
following business card of a Yokohama firm: “Jewelry maker, a finest
in town, Whiskey Boy. Our shop is best and obliging worker that have
everybody known, and having articles genuine Japanese crystal and
all kinds of Curious Stones, Shells, Ivory Cats-eyes--work own name
on monograms or any design according to orders. We can works how much
difficult Job with lowest price insure, please try, once try. Don’t
forget name Whisky.”
[Illustration]
English, however, is spoken fairly well, and with what Japanese he will
pick up, the average foreigner gets along without much trouble. There
has been lately introduced that ever-present travelling companion, the
phrase-book, in which we are told how to ask the time of day, what we
want for dinner, and other needful questions; but the language is so
strange in its construction, that few have courage to try anything very
elaborate, and for more intricate matters must rely upon the guide, who
usually speaks our language with fluency. One of the men of our party
tried on a certain occasion to show a little gallantry to his attending
_geisha_, and began to tell her, by the aid of a phrase-book, that she
had very beautiful eyes. He thought that he had succeeded so well in
this that he would go one step further, and presumed to inform her that
they shone like the stars. You will see that this latter is not only
a more delicate compliment, but that it is a more involved sentence,
and requires knowledge of grammatical construction not essential to the
more simple statement. The little _geisha_ did not understand him at
all, but he kept at it persistingly almost the entire evening. Finally
the interpreter was called in, and the puzzling speech was rendered
into Japanese. The girl glanced coyly up and replied: “Oh, but there
are a great many favoured in the same way.” After that our friend gave
up the phrase-book, and conducted his future gallantries by means of an
interpreter.
The Japanese have learned more things from the visits of foreigners
than a change of costume and the art of war. Perhaps the spirit of
trickery is inborn, but the numerous signs we saw of this were of an
order that would do credit to the shrewdest Yankee. One of our party
was always a little sensitive to any reference to ducks, and I myself
had an experience with certain artistic representations of dragons of
which I was frequently reminded by my friends. Our companion, while
taking an evening walk in Kioto, had been attracted by a certain
individual carrying, by means of shoulder straps, a miniature pond,
in which there were very dainty images of ducks swimming around as
naturally as you could wish. He paused to watch the proceeding, and
became deeply interested. His enthusiasm reached its height when he saw
the fowls occasionally dive under the water and reappear, apparently
greatly refreshed by the plunge. My friend excitedly asked the price of
these phenomenal birds, paid down a large sum with great willingness,
received a paper with instructions as to the way to produce the
desired effect, and started for the hotel. Arriving there, he began
to read the paper in order to prepare for the first exhibition. He was
somewhat chagrined by being advised therein to buy a few sprightly gold
fish, attach them to the ducks, place both on the water, and await
developments.
[Illustration]
And now, I suppose, it would be only fair to tell you how I was
victimised by a similar piece of roguery. I had not been in Japan
long enough to distinguish the good shops from the bad, nor to know
the proper methods of collecting curios. I was attracted one morning
by a graphic representation of a woman sitting on a dragon, the whole
evidently the work of a Japanese sculptor. The colour of the image, a
rich dark brown, was what particularly struck my fancy. The keeper of
the shop informed me that it was a rare piece of art, that it was made
of a certain sacred wood, and that the price was thirty dollars. I did
not buy that morning. In the evening we took a walk through one of the
busy streets, and lo! here was an itinerant merchant with my dragon at
his side, anxiously looking for a customer. I quickly stepped up to
him, and listened to the same tale I had heard in the morning, with
one important exception,--the price was now eighty-five cents. Perhaps
because I thought I was getting a bargain, perhaps out of curiosity,
I purchased the statue, had it done up in paper, and departed with my
treasure. Before I showed it to my friends I thought I would wash it a
little, as it had a very dusty look, and would be improved by a bath. I
was somewhat startled to see the rich dark brown colour fade away and
leave me a pure white dragon of a cheap Japanese material resembling
plaster-of-paris. I called in the guide, who gave a broad grin as he
surveyed the melancholy object before me. He kindly told me that it had
been “dipped in medicine,” and I made him a present of the curiosity
for his information. He bore it away with a satisfied air, and that was
the last I saw of my dark brown dragon,--though by no means the last I
heard of it.
These are only a few of the ways in which the influence of the West can
be traced in Japan. It will be interesting to watch what the next few
years will bring about; whether the _kimono_ will triumph over the
trousers, the tea over the beer, or whether there will be a gradual
mingling into a new type. The whole thing may be but a temporary mania,
a passing aberration of a quickly assimilative people; and perhaps in a
few years the progressive Japanese will see the folly of his ways, and
learn that he can best advance after a manner of his own.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]