Another entertainment of interest to which we went some time later was a ball given at the Chinese Legation by their Excellencies the Minister and Lady Yü, who had succeeded my old friend and philosopher, Mr. Wong, in Tokio. Looking at the large cosmopolitan company gathered together, all apparently on the most friendly and cordial terms, it was hard to believe that there had ever been war between China and Japan, or that even then there were strained relations between several of the countries whose representatives were there on apparently the most friendly and cordial terms. However, I suppose even the most zealous statesman must at times put aside his official capacity and yield to the enjoyment of the moment, and this they certainly seemed to be doing on the present occasion.
The Chinese Legation is a large European building of red brick, commanding one of the best situations in Tokio. But for its yellow flag flying aloft on fête-days and a few Chinese ‘monban,’ or guards, at the gates, there is nothing to distinguish it from any of the other official residences in the capital. The Legation is furnished in European style, with curtains and coverings of bright-coloured brocades, and has a large ball-room, with a parquet floor and electric light. On this important evening the walls were decorated with Chinese weapons and flags, arranged very effectively. The guests, who numbered between two and three hundred, arrived shortly after nine o’clock; they included nearly all the Japanese Ministers of State and high officials, the various Corps Diplomatiques and their staffs, the Russian Admiral and a number of Russian officers, and also the greater part of the foreign community of Tokio.
On arrival, we were met at the entrance by an imposing group of Chinese officials, who escorted us two by two across the hall and up a long flight of stairs to the dressing-room. After delivering over our cloaks and wraps to the quaintest and most picturesque-looking little maid-servants, we were marched arm in arm solemnly in procession downstairs to the drawing-room, where the Minister and Lady Yü were waiting to receive us. Lady Yü wore a European dress of violet satin and lace, and had a Court train trimmed with ostrich-feathers; although she is usually seen in her national costume. She is a nice-looking woman, with a kind, pleasant face. By birth she is American-Japanese, her father having married and settled in Shanghai. Her two daughters, Miss Lizzie and Miss Nelly Yü, were also in European dresses of white silk. They are bright-looking girls, very popular in Tokio society. All three speak English fluently. The Minister, however, speaks only Chinese, but, I believe, understands a good deal of the conversation going on around him. He is a native of the province of Manchu, in the North of China, and, like most of the inhabitants of that part of the country, is above the average height and a powerfully-made man. He adheres entirely to his Chinese dress, and was attired in a long coat of yellow brocade, lined with white Mongolian fur.
There are two sons, the eldest about twenty-one years of age, who is already married, and is a proud father--the other a boy of about seventeen. They both seemed thoroughly to enjoy the dancing, although their long satin petticoats and curious high shoes must have been somewhat inconvenient. They are being educated by French and English governesses, and one of them confided to me that his mother fines him 10 sen (= 2½d.) whenever he speaks Chinese!
A number of Chinese guests were present, their gorgeous, embroidered garments adding much to the general effect of the ballroom, as did also the gay uniforms of the various naval and military officers. There was a curious mixture of costumes. Chinese in Chinese dress, Chinese in European dress, Japanese à l’Anglaise, Japanese à la Japonaise, and Europeans in every imaginable combination of colour and style; some toilettes as much ‘up-to-date’ as the distance from the land of fashions permitted, others evidently desirous of striking out a line of their own. One American lady had actually draped herself in a Japanese kimono, but in a way that no Japanese lady would dream of appearing. I also noticed a German lady in a dress of pure white.
Perhaps, however, they imagined it was a fancy-dress ball! Contrary to the Chinese dress, which is a combination of the most vivid colouring, the Japanese ladies over twenty--in fact, even younger--wear nothing but the most sober colours--grays, drabs, fawns; and the elderly ladies are generally seen in black, the only adornment being their crest embroidered on the back of their kimonos. The men and boys wear gray, dark blue, and black ukatas.
The cotillon was led by Miss Yü and a secretary of the Russian Legation, and included some pretty and original figures. The Russian contredanses seemed to be especially appreciated, and the fun had waxed fast and furious towards the small hours of the morning when we took our departure. In fact, the ball was a great success in every way, and the general originality of the entertainment added much to its charm.
Some of the guests were a little disappointed in not having a real Chinese supper; but when I mention a few of the palatable dishes that were served to us at a Chinese dinner at which we were once present, I think you will agree with me that we had a lucky escape.
The chief dainties at that delectable feast--which, by-the-by, lasted three hours and a half--were swallows’-nest soup, a very expensive dish, I believe; sharks’ fins, more or less eatable; eggs, which had been buried for several months and had become the consistency and colour of old Stilton cheese; and many other similar dainties which I fail to remember, but all swimming in the inevitable and savoury Chinese sauce made of pig and goose fat. Of course, tastes differ, but I own to preferring the more commonplace chicken-and-ham supper menu to the above delicacies.