Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

“[IT IS NATURE COMBED AND TRIMMED]”

It is not “pure nature,” or nature untamed and wild, which the Japanese art of gardening aims simply to reproduce and to represent. [It is nature excessively combed and trimmed]; or—to present the thought in more carefully chosen æsthetical language—nature as she would be if arranged and arrayed according to the most precisely developed ideals of the human artist. Every tree and shrub must, then, be cultivated and pruned with attention to the details of each stem and twig; even the decayed or superfluous leaves, or the needles and cones from the pine trees, require to be picked away. On visiting the famous garden of Count Okuma, in the late Autumn, we found two-score and more of persons, working under expert direction in this way. The same pains is taken in holding up to view the work of nature in marring her own products or in removing them utterly, in order to make room for the fresh creations of her bounteous life. Worn rocks, worm-eaten woods, bare trunks, broken stumps, and all the other results of the ceaseless forces that minister decay and death, have an important place in the Japanese art of gardening. But the worn stones must be carefully placed and kept scrupulously clean; the worm-eaten woods must be selected with due regard to the fantastic patterns which have been worked upon them; the bare trunks and broken stumps need to have their shapes defined by the back-ground of foliage or of open sky; for—to quote again from Baron Kuki—the effort is to “abstract the essential aspect of objects, and to give expression to the artist’s sentiments by their portrayal.”

Only a little reflection is necessary in order to make it evident that for the æsthetical appreciation of the Japanese garden, in its most purely native form, whether as originally imported from China or as developed on native soil, a sympathetic share in this characteristic, sentimental attitude toward nature is absolutely indispensable. In viewing the best examples, where the scale is fairly generous and the artistic theories in control have not been too individualistic or fantastic, such sympathy is not difficult for one of cultivated æsthetical taste; although the Japanese art may still make the impression of being something unusual and foreign. Where, however, such sympathy is wanting, and in the cases of multitudes of inferior examples, no amount of this feeling—or, at least, no reasonable amount—can easily prevent an unfavorable judgment, on account of the impression of artificiality, pettiness, and excessive devotion to details, without a corresponding largeness of spirit. But when one recognises the amount of innocent enjoyment, and of a valuable sort of æsthetical education and refinement—for the Japanese garden is seldom or never vulgar,—which comes to the homes of the lowly in this way, one’s criticism is either totally disarmed or greatly modified in its points of view. Indeed, there is no nation in Europe or America to whom the Japanese may not give valuable lessons in the art of the quiet, soothing, and refining enjoyment of nature and of out-of-door recreations, to the discredit and relative neglect of those coarser and more exhausting ways of enjoying themselves which these other nations prefer. Moon-viewing, cherry-blossom viewing, and mushroom-gathering parties may seem to us lacking in “strong” inducements, as modes of pleasure-seeking; but the men and women who have made an art of cultivating them—and these have been among the greatest in the history of Japan—certainly can no longer be considered as a nation of dilettanti or of weaklings.

It is a not uncommon impression, even on the part of those who have visited the country, that Japan is a “land unrivalled in the beauty and abundance of its flowers,—a belief that nature has lavished her floral gifts with special favour upon these sunny islands of the Far East.” But as Mr. Conder points out in his admirable book upon “The Floral Art of Japan,” in the sense of “profusion in wild floral plants, it must be admitted that certain Western countries possess attractions which Japanese scenery can scarcely boast.” And although, as he goes on to say, “the comparative scarcity of groups of wild flowering plants, as a colour feature to the landscape, is to some extent made up for by the blossoming trees,” the peculiar characteristics and values of the Japanese art of gardening have not been so much derived from the nature that is without as from the nature that, centuries ago, lay slumbering within the spirit of the race. It must also be remembered that, just as the Japanese floral art does not confine itself to the æsthetical treatment of “flowers,” in our narrower use of the word, but, the rather, includes all flora in the botanical meaning of the term, so the art of gardening in Japan aims to take account of all forms of material and of situations and even of remote suggestions, which fall within the limits of man’s artistic control. “The secret, then, of Japan’s floral fame and floral enchantment lies rather in the care that her people bestow upon Nature’s simpler gifts than in any transcendent wealth of production.”

“Flower-viewing excursions, together with such pastimes as Shell-gathering, Mushroom-picking, and Moon-viewing, form the favourite occupations of the holiday seeker throughout the year. By a pretty fancy, even the snow-clad landscape is regarded as Winter’s floral display, and Snow-viewing is included as one of the flower festivals of the year. The Chinese calendar, used formerly by the Japanese, fitted in admirably with the poetical succession of flowers. Haru, the Japanese Spring, opened with the New Year, which commenced about February, and was heralded by the appearance of the plum blossoms.”

Floral art in Japan, therefore, makes extensive and effective use of flowerless trees, as well as of flowers, and flowering shrubs and flowering trees. Among such flowerless trees, the most important is the pine; and this hardy evergreen is found almost everywhere in the mountain and coast scenery of the country, and in all the gardens, as well as in a large proportion of the floral arrangements designed for in-door enjoyment. In its natural growth and struggle against the violent winds, it is habitually so quaintly distorted that the miniature representations in the smallest gardens and in tiny pots, are scarcely at all exaggerated. Then follow, in order of preference, the bamboo, the willow, and other flowerless trees.

Inside-floral arrangements should have regard to the character and uses of the room in which they are placed, to the season of the year, to the nature of the festival or other ceremonial occasion which they may chance to celebrate, to the other art-objects and the furniture of the same and adjoining rooms, and to the scenery of the garden and the remoter landscape upon which the room opens. To quote again from Mr. Conder: “Some writers go so far as to say that the floral design in a chamber should have a contrast in style with that of the adjoining garden. This fancy is better appreciated if it be remembered that during a great part of the year the outer walls of the Japanese house, which consist almost entirely of paper slides, are thrown completely open. If there be a landscape garden adjoining, consisting of lakes and hills,” (and as we have already seen these objects may exist in exceedingly miniature form) “the floral arrangement in the rooms should by preference partake of a moorland character; but if the garden be level and waterless, then water plants or mountain trees should be selected for the flower decorations of the chamber interior.”

I have already said that a great deal of philosophy—originally derived from China—together with not a few traditional superstitions, underlies the art of floral arrangement and the allied art of gardening, in Japan. But, what is more important in its influence upon the life of the people, is this: The expression and cultivation of virtue, and of the religious spirit,—of self-denial, gentleness, and the forgetfulness of cares—are both theoretically and in practice realisable and actually realised through this form of art.

Without retracting my previous disclaimer of the intention to venture into the field of philosophy in its relation to the Japanese art of landscape and other forms of gardening, I will make this final quotation from Mr. Conder’s treatise on the subject of floral arrangement, in one of the few passages where he extends his observations to the wider fields of the art of gardening. He has been speaking of the applications made of the male and female principles, so often referred to in Confucian philosophy, to contrasts of forms, surfaces, and colours, in the composition of floral material. “It has ever been a favourite fancy of the Japanese to apply distinctions of sex to inanimate nature. In natural scenery, and landscape-gardening, it is customary to discriminate between male and female cascades, male and female plants and trees, male and female rocks and stones. The distinction is not one so much of individual and separate quality as of forms placed in combination or contrast, and regarded as male or female in respect of one another. Thus the main torrent of a water-fall is considered masculine, and the lower fall in proximity feminine. In like manner, rocks used in gardening have no distinguishing sex, unless they are placed in pairs or groups. In the case of two stones of different character placed side by side, the one of bolder and more vigorous shape will be called the male, and the other the female stone. Curious as such fancies may seem, they are of considerable value when applied in the arts of design, their observance helping to produce that harmony of well-balanced contrasts which should pervade all artistic composition.”

Another striking illustration of the influence of quasi-moral and religious sentiment over this form of art is to be seen in the use made of the lotus in the landscape gardening of Japan. “The lotus is closely connected with the Buddhist religion, and is, therefore, associated in the minds of the people with spirit-land. The lakes of the temple grounds, especially those dedicated to the water goddess Benten, are frequently planted with lotuses.... Wherever undisturbed pools and channels of muddy water exist, the lotus is to be found, and even the ditches beside the railway connecting Tokyo with the port of Yokohama are rendered gay in the Summer by the lotus flowers in bloom. As the peony is said to be the national flower of China, so the lotus is regarded as the national flower of India, the source and centre of Buddhism. It is therefore considered out of place as a decoration for occasions of festivity and rejoicing, but is constantly used for obsequies and other sacred ceremonies. The lotus serves as suitable theme for religious contemplation” (and according to the psychologically true thought of the Japanese, the most fit and profitable place for such mental exercises is in the open air, and under the sane and soothing and uplifting influences of nature) “and is the favourite flower of monastic and temple retreats; the best displays are to be seen in the lakes of the old temple groves of Kyoto and other cities. Growing out of the muddiest and most stagnant water, its leaves and flowers are always fresh and clean; although it is particularly sensitive and quickly withers if brought in contact with any of the fertilisers by which other plants are nourished. This purity which the lotus maintains amid surrounding filth is mentioned as one reason for associating this plant with the religious life. A well-known book of Buddhist precepts contains this text:—‘If thou be born in the poor man’s hovel, but hast wisdom, then art thou like the lotus flower growing out of the mud.’”