thousands of poets and how many kakemono; screens and fusuma have been adorned with the conventional views of Matsu-shima; Oshima, decorated with its shrines and lanterns, and connected with the mainland by a slender bridge, half hidden by the leaning trees, is perhaps the most favourite theme for the artist and poet. The pines of Matsu-shima appeared to be all the variety known as Pinus densiflora—possibly the most beautiful of all, with its red stems and deep-green foliage.
I read of them described as in the “form of crouching dragons, red-scaled and rough, with fins of living green.” Another of the three “famous places” of the Empire is associated purely with pine and water; for to the eye of the unpoetical foreigner Ama-no-Hashi-date, a spot where thousands of Japanese congregate annually, is nothing but a long narrow sandy peninsula with an avenue of leaning pine-trees on either side. Its poetical name, meaning the Bridge or Ladder of Heaven, was given to the spot in allusion to Ama-no-uki-hashi or Floating Bridge of Heaven, whereon Izanagi and Iganami stood when they stirred up the brine of the primeval chaos with their jewelled spear, the drops from which consolidated into the first island of the Japanese archipelago. Though the name of the locality is not derived from its association with the pine, there are many points from whence the prospect is most admired, such as Ippon Matsu (One Pine-tree) which have been called after the trees; and under the branches of this solitary tree the poet may sit and meditate and compose his ode to the lovely scene. The long narrow spit, the tranquil water, and a few moored junks is another favourite scene for the Japanese artist.
To the European the last of the three great sights will appeal more surely, for no one could fail to be lost in admiration of Miyajima or Itsukushima, the holy island of the Inland Sea. It well deserves its rank among the famous places. The Japanese are said to admire it most under snow. I have never seen it under those conditions; but I can imagine no more beautiful scene than meets the eye in the early morning of a scorching August day, when the sampan floats across to this pine-clad island, the light haze just clearing from the woods, the great temple looking as if it were floating on the water, and the noblest, simplest gateway ever devised, the great wooden torii, standing, as it were, knee-deep in the sea. The giant leaning pines shade the never-ending line of lanterns along the shore, their gnarled roots and trunks almost lapped by the waves; and here and there a twisted tree will seem to be hanging in mid-air, so slender does its root-hold look upon the cliff. The same eternal pines guard the little shrines all up the hill, and gather round the temple at the summit, from whence the prospect is the fairest man can see. Across the sea, as calm as a lagoon, so calm that it is hard to realise its surface is ever ruffled by winter storms, will rise other pine-clad islands, but surely none so fair as this.
The beauties of Lake Biwa, “a shell of mist and light,” are sung universally. Constant reference is made in Japanese poetry to the eight views, known as the celebrated “Eight Beauties of Omi”: the autumn moon seen from Ishiyama; the waning moon on Hiragama; the sunset at Seta; the evening bell of Miidera; the boats sailing back from Gabase; the bright sky with a breeze at Awazu; rain by night at Karasaki; and the wild geese alighted at Katata. If you examine these places, you will find that the pine-tree makes a background for most of them; and the rain by night would have no meaning if the pine-tree of Karasaki were not there. Probably this is the largest and most curious pine in the world; its great branches sweep outwards and downwards till they almost touch the ground, and, owing to the tree’s great age, have to be supported by wooden props and stone cushions. A poet writes of the old Karasaki tree—
There is a pine, a fount of age,
Root cramped the land and sea between;
Of mighty limbs, that curve and rage
In eddying knots, and gusts of green.
Its ancient trunk is lichen writ
With autographs of centuries;
The years, like sparrows, perch on it,
And twitter plaintive memories.
As usual convention enters largely into this Japanese choice of especially lovely scenes, and probably were a foreigner asked to choose “Eight Beauties of Omi” he would name eight entirely different scenes. Certainly for one, I should choose the view from the top of the Castle of Hikone when the rice is still young and green, and the bloom of the honey-scented rape plant spreads broad stretches of yellow on the plains, forming a brilliant foreground to the lake beyond.
Next to Lake Biwa, although more properly speaking it is a lagoon, Lake Hamana is their largest lake, and here again the pine does so much in beautifying the whole scenery. Hamamatsu, meaning the Pines of the Beach, is an historical place for pine-trees, and just beyond it lies the entrance to the lagoon; from the bridge can be seen on one side the breakers of the Pacific, and on the other the deeply indented shore line, clad with pine-trees, stretches away as far as the eye can see, while the mountains rise range upon range above the clear still water and form a picture dear to the heart of the poet.
If I were to tell you of all the places in Japan famous for their pine-trees, it would be one never-ending list, the pine is everywhere. If you travel along the sandy shore at Maiko or at Suma, across to the northern coast at Tsuruga, or at Maizuru, where the wonderful trees are of great antiquity, or back again to the coast near Kamakura, with the pine-clad island of Enoshima rising from the sea like a high green mass, through all the district of Hakone, or up north at Nikko, you will find the pine-trees,—no scenery can be parted from them; and if you are the happy possessor of a Japanese garden, the pine-tree will greet you at the gate.
Not only have the beauties of the pine been sung by poets for a thousand years, but they are also considered emblems of constancy, endurance, health, and longevity. The famous pines of Takasago are well known as the theme of the No play in which the spirits of the pine-trees will appear as human shapes to celebrate the age of gold and happy life. The trees, with the colour of eternity and with their unexhausted life, are regarded as emblems of joy. It is the custom to sing a passage from this Takasago play at wedding ceremonies. The spirits of the two ancient pine-trees, personified as an old man and an old woman engaged in a never-ending task of raking up pine needles, are the subject, typifying longevity. The following is a passage from the play:—