PEACH BLOSSOM
The peach blossom has never attained the fame in Japanese art, or among
their poets, that its classical predecessor the plum, or its successor
the cherry of patriotic fame, has been honoured with; but it is none
the less beautiful for that reason, and its blossoms excel those of the
plum in size, richness, and colouring. Towards the end of March the
first flowers of the peach-trees will be opening, although long before
this time, branches closely covered with the bright-pink buds will
have been among the flowers offered for arrangement on the _tokonoma_,
as in the warmth of the house (though surely there seems to be very
little warmth in a Japanese house all through the long cold March days)
the buds will quickly open and last in beauty for many days. These
will be branches of the early bright pink variety, but it is not until
the beginning of April that the large flowered pure white, double and
semi-double flowers of every shade of pink, and even a deep crimson of
a remarkably beautiful tone, will be in their full glory, and it is
hard to understand why this splendid blossom should be comparatively
neglected and relegated to secondary rank by the artist as a decorative
motive and material.
The less severely artistic, who find enjoyment at any spot where
blossom and colour are to be seen, will visit Momoyama (Peach
Mountain) in crowds during the first week in April, and the narrow
streets leading up to the hill will be gay with visitors, and among
the orchards the little temporary tea sheds will be set out for their
comfort and refreshment. So yet another “Feast of blossom” will be
celebrated. The trees may perhaps lack some of the grace of the old
gnarled plum-trees, and they do not appear to have such a long life, as
never did I hear of any very celebrated old specimen trees, but rather
groves or orchards of younger trees, which no doubt, in order to make
them bloom freely, receive drastic treatment at the hand of the pruner.
Very lovely are these groves of peach-trees, and surely they must have
found favour in the ancient days, as on Momoyama stood
[Illustration: PEACH BLOSSOM]
Hideyoshi’s palace, the grandest ever built in Japan, whose spoils in
the shape of gold screens and _fusuma_ adorn half the temples in Kyoto.
The peach orchards of _Soka-no-momoyama_ at Senju are a favourite
resort of the Tokyo holiday-makers, who make annual pilgrimages to do
honour to the peach blossoms, and parties sit feasting on the matted
benches; here and there perhaps a group discussing the politics of the
capital, or a solitary poet composing a _hokku_ on the peach blossom,
or a family party; and there the little boys and girls, decked out in
their brightest-coloured kimonos and obis in honour of the holiday,
will be listening with rapt attention to the fairy-story of Momo Taro,
who jumped out of a large peach-stone. To the older children it is an
old story, for every Japanese child has listened at bedtime to the
tale of Momo Taro told by its mother, but for the little ones this may
be their first year of “peach-viewing” and understanding, and their
eyebrows will rise in amazement when they hear the history. “Once upon
a time,” the story says, “there was an old man and an old woman; the
old man went up the mountain to collect dried brushwood, and the old
woman went to the river to wash clothes,” and there one of the older
boys will interrupt, I am sure, saying, “A big peach came down the
river; and Momo Taro jumped out of the stone when the old woman brought
it home and cut it open, didn’t he?” So there is not a child in Japan
who does not know the history of Momo Taro, the children’s hero, who
made an expedition into the Oniga Shima (Devil’s Island) followed by
his dog and monkey servitors. It would be no surprise to them to see
even a fat little boy like themselves spring out of the end of the
fruit, so the Japanese boys adore the peach; and the little girls share
their affection for it, as it is always associated in their mind with
their own especial festival.
During the season of the early peach blossoms (on 3rd March) the
Girls’ Festival (_Jōmi-no-sekku_) is celebrated throughout Japan;
it is also called the Feast of Dolls (Hina Matsuri), and the Peach
Festival, for no Girls’ Festival is complete without some branches
of peach blossom in the vase on the _tokonoma_. This day is eagerly
looked forward to by every little girl in Japan, from the highest to
the lowest in the land, for every house possesses its little store
of dolls, only to be brought out and exhibited with due pomp and
ceremony on this one day in the year. In the houses of the rich, the
Dairi Hina--tiny models of people and their belongings--the dolls
will be dressed in gorgeous silk, and their accessories mostly made
of priceless lacquer. The whole ancient Japanese Court in miniature
there may be: these will all be displayed on the _tokonoma_ of the
guest chamber, possibly on a piece of brocade as gorgeous as the
peach blossom in colour. And there you will see an emperor and an
empress and a set of Court musicians; before them the most elaborate
dinner sets in ancient form; beside them there will be the _Sho kudai_
(lamp-stand with paper shade) with pictures of peach blossom on it.
The little daughters of the house will surely look to our eyes only
like larger dolls, with their delicate coloured silk crepe kimonos and
stiff brocade obis standing out like great butterflies on their backs,
their hair carefully dressed according to their age, the older ones
with just a little powder on their tiny inscrutable faces, acting as
hostesses with all the solemn grace of their mother, offering to the
guests tiny cups of tea and little fairy cakes shaped and coloured
like peach petals. This girls’ day is one of the prettiest sights in
Japan, and yet there is no record how far back the festival originated,
though it is believed to date from a thousand years ago. In the days of
the Tokugawa feudal régime--days of perfect peace and prosperity--it
became a very expensive festival, and great sums were expended on these
toy Dairi Hina, so it is not surprising that they were handed down as
heirlooms in families only to be displayed once a year, or sometimes
a bride, scarcely more than a child herself, would take her set of
favourite dolls with her to her husband’s house, so that her little
daughter might perhaps some day also use them to celebrate the Girls’
or Peach Festival. So in Japan the peach is truly the children’s tree.
_Momo_, meaning a hundred, is considered “emblematic of longevity and
perfection,” which probably is the origin of the story of Seibo the
fairy who governed the western realm of China. She gave some peaches
to the Emperor Butei, and told him that that variety of peach only
bore fruit once in three thousand years, and he would live eternally
from the fruit’s heavenly influence. If we could only get such peaches
to-day? Perhaps it might do as well to eat a common peach from the
market and dream, if possible, of the beauty of eternal life and be
happy.
In Chinese art the peach blossom seems to rank higher than it does in
Japan, and a very favourite subject with Chinese artists is an ox in
a peach orchard. The finest pot-grown peach-trees I ever saw were in
China, their gnarled stems looking truly a thousand years old, their
branches trained and bent or merely drooping like a willow, covered
with the clear pink blossoms. The trunks of these fine old trees
may have been three or four feet high; but in Japan it is possible
to procure a little plant for perhaps 25 sen (about sixpence) whose
branches are so tightly packed with blossoms it is impossible to see
a trace of even the bark between them--a perfect little tree in a
delicate green or mottled blue porcelain pot. I could not help thinking
what pleasure such trees would give in England, but apparently it
is only the Japanese who know the real secret of growing them, the
exact shoots to leave and which to cut away, to ensure this wealth of
blossom. I felt in England my little peach-tree would only flower here
and there, and its beauty would be lost.
There is a popular saying in Japan, _Momo kuri san nen, kaki
hachinen_, meaning “three years for peach and chestnut, eight years
for persimmon.” The peach-tree is of rapid growth; this fact is proved
by there being a variety called _Issai momo_, because it blooms the
first year of its growth, and bears fruit the second. There is _Futairo
momo_, the two-coloured peach, whose blossoms are mingled red and
white in colour, single and double in petals; there is _Hiku momo_, or
chrysanthemum peach, as its blossoms are the shape of a chrysanthemum
flower, in clusters of twelve or thirteen; the camellia peach and
many others with fancy names from their supposed resemblance to their
god-father. The native peaches do not bear good fruit, and the better
varieties have been introduced from America, but up to now with only
moderate success. There are no good eating peaches in Japan; this may
be the fault of the climate, possibly the hot damp summer does not
suit them, or the cultivation may be at fault; but when their blossoms
provide such a feast of colour and beauty it seems altogether too
unromantic and too material to worry over the texture and flavour of
the fruit.
[Illustration: THE PAGODA, KYOMIDZU]