Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

The drive to the Palace showed us the Capital City as it appears only when it is decked out in characteristically Japanese fashion, on this, Japan’s most notable gala time of the entire year. The weather of the day was glorious, bright sunshine and soft dry air. There appeared not to be a hut in Tokyo too small or too poor to be decorated with at least two tiny pieces of pine boughs tied together with a bit of new straw rope. Even the draught horses and the stakes to which the scows were moored in the canals were ornamented with pine, bamboo, and fern-leaves, and with little white Shintō “prayer papers” fluttering in the gentle breeze. The larger houses and shops, the banks and business buildings, had set into the ground at each side of their doorways and gates young bamboo trees, of from four to eight feet high, around which young pine trees were tied compactly into a form resembling a huge bouquet. To this an added significance is given by tying into the queerly knotted rope at its centre a collection of fern leaves, strands of straw, stalks of rice, streamers of Shintō paper, dried fish, and an orange or a boiled lobster. Peace, plenty, long life, prosperity, and happiness,—everything that the human heart can desire or hope for—are supposed to be symbolised in this way. Along the narrower streets, where only native shops of the smaller sort and of unfamiliar specialties abound, the line of the projecting roofs, which was itself not more than six or eight feet above the ground, was decorated with a deep fringe of plaited straw, held together by a rope that carried little flags and gay lanterns. Not at all a gorgeous or expensive style of decoration, surely! But universal and expressive of thoroughly human sentiments, mingled, indeed, with quaint ancestral beliefs and superstitions, it certainly is.

On arrival at the Palace, we were shown into a dressing-room to remove our overcoats and wraps, where the ladies were assisted by three Japanese maids, two of them in foreign dresses of silk with trains, and the third more splendid in the old-style Japanese court dress. When, about fifteen minutes later, the time for the Audience of our “degree” had arrived, a Master of Ceremonies came and ushered the party into a large and beautiful salon, where about one hundred persons, with five or six exceptions all Japanese, were waiting for the coming of their turn to enter the throne-room. All were in court costume; the officers of the army and navy in full-dress uniforms, wearing their decorations and cocked hats trimmed with black or white ostrich tips; and the University professors decked out in coats of antique style elaborately embroidered with gold, cocked hats with feathers, and gold bands down their trousers. It was, indeed, a sight to delight the eyes of those who are delighted with such sights, and one that any person interested in brilliant colour schemes and the human impulse to parade, might look upon for once with a measure of keen enjoyment.

In good truth, there was an abundance of time to enjoy, and even to sate one’s self with the brilliant spectacle; for it was fully three-quarters of an hour before we were convoyed to the throne-room. One was led anew to admire the superior physical endurance of the ladies, who had trains weighing many pounds each to support and manage all the meanwhile. It was a relief to know, however, that the sum-total of suffering caused in this way could not have been great, for there were not more than a half-dozen ladies in the whole company.

The former custom of making the New Year’s Audiences more particular and personal has now, for all except the Princes of the Blood, the higher Japanese nobility, and the Diplomatic Corps, been abandoned; it had become too seriously burdensome, especially upon the Empress, who in her sincere and self-sacrificing devotion to her manifold Imperial duties and benevolent enterprises, is constantly tempted to exceed her strength. Instead, therefore, of Their Majesties undertaking to stand for many hours, while those received by them advanced and were introduced and made their bows, the ceremony has been in a manner reversed. When, then, we entered the throne-room, we found that it had been divided along its entire length into two about equal parts by a thick cord of red silk. Along the side of this cord, opposite the throne, the entire number, which had now increased to about one hundred and seventy-five, were allowed to arrange themselves as they chose. This arrangement having been accomplished, and all having quieted down, the Imperial party entered without flourish of any kind to announce them, at one end of the side opposite to their guests; and when they had reached its centre, right in front of the throne, they stopped and bowed three times to those waiting in audience, all of whom, of course, acknowledged the Imperial salutation by themselves bowing as low as their somewhat more than ordinarily stiff costumes would permit. The Imperial procession then passed out of the throne-room at the other end from that at which it had entered. This was all there was of the Audience at New Years, to which the privilege of an invitation is so much coveted and which it is so impossible for one outside the circle prescribed by court rules to obtain.

Of late years a somewhat comic supplement has been added to the ceremonial drama in the form of a function which bears the suggestive but not euphonious title of “Tails and Tea.” It has become the custom for some one of the foreign diplomatic corps, usually the acting Doyen, to invite to his official residence for tea that same afternoon a considerable number of those who have not attended any of the audiences of the earlier part of the day, as well as all those who have been in attendance. This function not only gives the opportunity for much chat such as is customarily inspired by tea-drinking on similar occasions, but it also has the added advantage that it affords to some of the ladies the gratification of displaying their trains to a larger circle of admiring or critical spectators, and to others the consolation of seeing some of the elements of the pomp of the morning, whose tout ensemble has been denied to them.

In 1899, the year of my second visit to Japan, audiences with the Emperor for foreigners, not connected with royal families or members of the diplomatic corps, were more rarely granted than they are at the present time. Indeed, our Minister at that date, who was greatly respected and beloved by the Japanese, told me that he had ceased asking them for his own nationals, unless some indication of favourable disposition toward any particular request were first received from the other side. It was then toward the close of my work in behalf of the educational interests of the nation, and when the lectures in the University and before the Imperial Educational Association had come to a successful end, that the Department of the Household, moved by the representations of the Department of Education, sent to our Minister the assurance he desired. This was followed by the formal request for the Audience, which was promptly granted. The date, however, could not be at once definitely fixed; for His Majesty was suffering from a slight indisposition which had led his physicians to forbid him every sort of exposure. This indefiniteness of itself made indefinite the date when we could leave Tokyo without a serious breach of politeness; or else without Imperial permission granted for an imperative reason.

We were summoned back from Kamakura, where we were spending a day or two as the guests of Baron Kuki, by a telegram from Colonel Buck, which informed us that the time for the Audience had been set for the morning of the next day, at ten o’clock. On our way from the Legation to the Palace it was a real pleasure to hear the Minister say—what my subsequent experiences have convinced me is strictly true—that the friendly services and courtesies of educated men were worth more for cementing relations of friendship between the two nations than a great amount of what is called diplomacy. As to this, I am inclined to insist once more upon the judgment that financial greed and commercial rivalry have been of late, and still are, the chief causes of war between nations. Witness the powerful influence of the South-African gold and diamond interests in bringing about the Boer war; and of the infamous procedure of Bezobrazoff’s Yalu River Timber Company, with its issue in the Russo-Japanese war. A vigorous but unscrupulous “trade policy” is almost certain ultimately to lead to a war policy.

Arrived at the Palace, Minister Buck and I were taken through long corridors to a drawing-room adjoining the audience chamber, where Counts Toda and Nagasaki were, with other gentlemen, already in waiting. Here we were kept engaged in conversation for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes before being ushered into the audience chamber. But before its doors were thrown open, Count Toda remarked that “His Majesty was very gracious this morning and wished to shake hands with Professor Ladd.”

When the Minister and I had entered the room in the prescribed form—he, two or three steps in advance, and each of us bowing low three times (at the threshold, about half way, and just in front of His Majesty)—the Emperor, who was standing near the other end of the chamber, addressed through his interpreter a few questions to Colonel Buck. He particularly inquired after his health, and whether the buildings or trees of the Legation had been injured by the severe storm of the day before. I was next introduced, the Emperor cordially extending his hand. His Majesty then inquired about my coming to Japan, the time of my leaving; expressed his pleasure at seeing me, and gratification at the work which had been done; and, finally, the hope that he might some time see me again. This last utterance I understood as a permission to withdraw. And this was promptly done, by backing out and bowing the requisite three times in the reverse order.

It was more than seven years later and on my third visit to Japan that the honour of another private audience was accorded to me by the Emperor. At this time, the newly arrived First and Second Secretaries of our Embassy, with their wives, and Mrs. Ladd, were all to be presented. The gentlemen would have audience with both the Emperor and the Empress; the ladies with the Empress only. The whole party, on arriving at the Palace, was rapidly conducted along the corridors, past the waiting-room where my own deceased friend, Minister Buck, and I had rested for a few minutes on the former occasion, to the room of waiting set apart for the Empress’ guests. There three of the gentlemen-in-waiting and three of the maids of honour met us; and introductions followed. After twenty minutes of chatting together, the men of the party were taken in front and to one side of the door of the audience chamber, to await the summons of His Majesty. They had not long to wait, for he makes it a point to be very prompt in such matters. Here, to my no small surprise, I learned that my decoration gave me precedence of the Secretaries of the Embassy, and that I would therefore be presented first. Ambassador Wright then led the way into the audience chamber, leaving the others standing outside. After exchanging inquiries with the Ambassador as to his health, on my being presented the Emperor held out his hand and cordially welcomed me. I expressed my thanks for the honour done in permitting me to see him again, and congratulated His Majesty on the successful termination of the war and on the apparently prosperous condition of his country. His Majesty then said that he had heard with pleasure of the work which I was doing for the moral education of his young men; that it would prove very useful for Japan; and that he wished to thank me for it. I expressed the great pleasure I was taking in the work, and my sincere gratitude for so favourable an opportunity. Whereupon he expressed the hope that I would continue it. I replied that it would be an honour as well as a pleasure, if I might be permitted to continue to be of service, however small, to Japan; since, next to my own country, I had learned to love Japan best of all. When this was interpreted to the Emperor, his face, which is ordinarily very immovable—almost like a mask—showed a gleam of satisfaction which was unmistakable; and he again thanked me and took my hand for the second time.