THE MORNING GLORY
“_Asagao_ blooms and fades so quickly, only to prepare for the morrow’s
glory,” such is the theme of one of the oldest songs on the _asagao_
or morning glory, written by the Chinese priest at the temple of Obaku
near Uji, who is said to have been the first person to introduce the
flower to Japan.
It was but a primitive weed when it first came from China; it is only
in the land of its adoption that it has evolved its thousand varying
forms and developed into the floral wonder of to-day. It was still a
semi-barbarous beauty, and had not advanced to its present plane, when
_Kaga no Chiyo_ wrote her well-known morning glory poem, better known
to us from Sir Edwin Arnold’s version--
The Morning Glory,
Her leaves and bells have bound
My bucket handle round;
I could not break the bands
Of those soft hands.
The bucket and the well to her I left;
“Lend me some water, for I come bereft.”
For centuries the _asagao_ in Japan remained the same trifling little
Chinese flower, only the wild morning glory of the bamboo fences in the
back gardens; but even then the bright poetesses of the Kyoto Court
admired it, and the Nara poets sang its praises. As they delighted
to write of the fleeting condition of our human lives, they found a
congenial subject in the morning glory, for it is true that no flower
has a briefer life and beauty, and the buds of yesterday are flowers
to-day, but only for a few short hours, and then nothing will be left
but ruin and decay; though how quickly fresh buds will appear and fresh
flowers open to be the morrow’s “morning glory.”
It was not until the eighteenth century that the _asagao_ became
fashionable among the Daimyos and _hatamoto_, who worked wonders in
its cultivation in the rival _Yashiki_ or noblemen’s gardens at Yedo.
Their blossoms developed in size, depth, and variety of colour, until
suddenly at the close of the eighteenth century a spell of cold weather
during their season of flowering, dwarfed the blossoms and ruined
all the seeds in Yedo. So the _asagao_ culture was dropped until the
_Tempo_ period (1830). Then a revival of interest culminated in the mad
craze at the time of Commodore Parry’s visit, when princes, priests and
potentates, nobles, _hatamoto_, and gardeners all vied with each other
in the culture of this flower. Fancy prices were put on plants and
seeds, as much as fourteen or eighteen yen (2s.) being given for one
seed of some new favourite. Naritaya of Yedo and Tonomura of Osaka were
rival gardeners, and the latter sent his precious flowers to the Yedo
show by means of relays of coolies, to compete with those grown at Yedo.
The restoration and complete change of social conditions were
unfavourable to the culture of the morning glory, as it again went out
of fashion and only languished, until its recent revival about fifteen
years ago, when an _asagao_ club was formed and many prominent persons
became members.
To-day the craze has spread among all classes, and there is hardly
a house--more especially in Tokyo, but almost throughout the
country--where there are not a few pots of this favourite flower, it
being within the reach of the poorest in the land; for a few sen the
seeds may be procured to raise the plants which are so often grown
upon the house-top.
Iriya (an attractive name meaning “Within the Valley”), beyond Uyeno
Park, is the most famous place in Japan for the morning glory; here
thousands of carefully trained plants of every shade and variety of
colour, fancy flowers less than half an inch in size, in clusters, and
shaped like a butterfly orchid, and other strange varieties may be
seen; some trained in pots over light bamboo frameworks representing
rustic structures and other quaintly designed frames. The gardens are
visited by hundreds of visitors in the early morning, for it is at
four o’clock in the morning of a scorching July or August day that the
plants will look their best: the buds will just be opening, the faded
flowers of yesterday will have fallen, and all will be fresh and make
you forget the heat of the day that is dawning. One of the _asagao_
experts remarked to me--
We don’t call him an _asagao_ man, however large his garden be,
however good the other preparations; the rarest _asagao_, one
which makes our mouths water, as we say, comes frequently from the
hands of a _Hachiko_ or _Kumako_, and is often raised upon the
roofs in Nihonbashi or Kyobashi, where the ground is too dear for
any garden, where we say “one handful of ground means one handful
of gold.” And there’s almost no expense in _asagao_ cultivation.
What’s needed for it is only a little time to spare--the little
time which you can spare from the resting hours or nap-time in the
midsummer days. And any common sort of pot which you can buy for
two or three sen will do just as well. And since it is the glory
of early morning you have not to prepare anything, even when you
invite your friends; a cup of tea will be sufficient. We hear quite
often of cases of chrysanthemum parties which were the cause of
poverty; but the _asagao_ is not such a vulgar thing at all. And,
on the other hand, it will make you forget the summer heat. It
is the nature of the flower to love the intense heat; in the hot
weather you have them more beautiful. The _asagao_ man is simply
glad to have the hottest days: “Surely to-morrow morning’s display
will be a splendour,” he will say. He will not lose his time in
taking a nap, but busy himself arranging the flower vines; and his
brain will not suffer from the heat if he wear a large hat--on the
contrary it will feel better. I have seen many cases of _asagao_
cultivation curing brain illness. And it represents the true spirit
of Japanese democracy; it is such an aristocratic flower, like the
chrysanthemum. A peer and a heimin will equally enjoy it: at the
Himpivokwai (_asagao_ show) people of every station have equal
freedom and enjoyment.