THE BAMBOO
What would the Japanese do without the bamboo? Indeed so extensive is
the part played by the bamboo, not only in the beautifying of the land,
but in her domestic economy, that the question is rather, what does it
_not_ do? The number of species of bamboo in Japan at present is stated
to be fifty, not including numerous other varieties and sports; among
them thirty-nine are indigenous, and the others have been imported
at various times from Korea, China, or the Lu-chu Islands. From time
immemorial the Japanese have not regarded the bamboo as a tree--it
forms a category apart, and they speak of “trees and bamboos”; they say
it belongs to the grasses, and is just a giant grass and nothing more.
It is indeed a beautiful and wonderful grass with a rate of growth
which cannot be compared to that of any other member of the vegetable
kingdom; some species are said to show a growth of several feet in
the course of four-and-twenty hours, reminding one of one of the many
ghastly forms of Chinese tortures, when a man is pegged to the ground
on the top of a sprouting bamboo, whose shoots are so strong that they
will grow right through the man’s body in the course of a single night.
Most people persist in regarding the bamboo as a tender tropical plant
unable to stand our bitter Northern winters; but there must be many
hardy species, as often they may be seen bending under the weight of
snow, even in the northern provinces of Japan, where the snow-fall is
measured not in inches but in feet. Many varieties there are which
no doubt would not flourish, varieties associated in one’s mind with
the gardens of Trinidad or the well-known Perediniya gardens in
Ceylon, but these tropical species should not be confounded with the
hardy forms which find their home in Japan and China. In the _Bamboo
Garden_, the author has viewed the bamboo chiefly from the standpoint
of acclimatisation in England, especially in the damper western and
southern counties, for dampness seems essential to the life of a
bamboo; in fact, so greedy is it of moisture that in many countries
where the rainfall in summer is small the bamboo is condemned, as
it sucks the life from surrounding plants. One of the commonest and
most beautiful species, the _moso dake_ or feathery bamboo, was an
import from China; it is so named from its golden stem and overhanging
plume-like fronds appearing like a group of feathers; and it is used
to a great extent as one of the features of a Japanese garden. Other
imported species are the _hochiku_ tree or square bamboo, and the _samo
chiku_, whose stems when young are of a bright red hue. These bamboos
were imported for industrial uses or for the adornment of rich men’s
gardens; and besides these there is a long list of other native and
foreign varieties.
To the bamboo the Japanese owe much, for it would seem to be the cause
of much of their clever constructive work; properly handled it will do
most things, but it is necessary to understand its proper treatment and
peculiar qualities. How puzzled an English carpenter would be if he
were asked to construct one of those delicate, dainty little tea-rooms
entirely of bamboo! which it is possible to do.
The larger species will provide a combination of lightness and
strength, which makes them an admirable framework for houses, and an
intermediate size will make ornamental doors or panelling, the varying
height of the joints forming a natural pattern; while the ornamental
floor of the verandah can be made of bamboo. The water-pipes will
be of bamboo, as they neither rust like iron nor get hot like wood;
and the carpenter will tell you that bamboo nails serve better for
certain purposes than metal ones, being non-conductors of heat and
non-corrosible. The thick poles seem remarkably strong, and are always
used for carrying heavy weights and for punt poles. The national flag
of the Rising Sun is sure to be flying from a bamboo. A complete list
of its uses would appear to be never-ending, but it is amusing to think
how many things in daily use in Japan are made of this “grass.” The
smaller kinds make fans and baskets, penholders and tobacco-pipe stems,
umbrellas and coolies’ hats, ladles and delicate whisks for stirring
the “honourable tea” at a tea ceremony, chopsticks for everyday use,
and bird-cages, fishing-rods and walking-sticks, flutes and trumpets,
every description of toy, and ornaments of innumerable kinds. Sandals
and the soles of clogs are made from the dried sheath of the culm of
the young bamboo, and it also serves for wrapping up such things as
rice sandwiches, meat and cake, or anything which is liable to stain
its receptacle. Fish-baskets made of split bamboo have a clean, cool
lining of _sasa_ or bamboo grass, a variety which grows on hills or
by the wayside; in spring its leaves are of the brightest green, but
become edged with white as the year wanes, producing the effect of a
variegated form. Other kinds, split and twisted, make strong hawsers,
and are even used in rural districts in the construction of bridges;
and yet another kind is boiled and flattened out into trays which are
much prized. The young shoots are boiled and eaten, and taste rather
like flavourless asparagus. So there is no end to the uses of the
bamboo. As mentioned elsewhere, it is one of the “four gentlemen of the
floral kingdom,” being associated with the pine, orchid, and plum. Its
never-fading colour causes it to be compared to the virtue of man or
the chastity of woman. O Take, meaning honourable bamboo, is one of the
popular names for a Japanese girl; and their writers and poets use it
frequently as a _nom de plume_.
One of the first stories of Japanese literature, in the tenth century,
was called _Taketori Monogatari_. Taketori, meaning bamboo gatherer,
is the story of an old man who made his living by making bamboo ware.
One day he saw in the woods a bamboo with a shining stem; he split it
open, and discovered in one of the joints a beautiful little maiden
only three inches in height. He took this wonderful little bamboo
maiden home and adopted her as his daughter, giving her the name of
Kagujakime or the “Shining Lady.” She grew up to womanhood, and her
marvellous beauty attracted many admirers. She assigned a quest to each
of them, under the promise that she would marry the suitor who should
succeed in accomplishing the task allotted to him. One lover was told
to fetch Buddha’s begging bowl of stone from India; another, to bring
her a branch of the tree with roots of silver, stem of gold, and fruit
of jewels, which grew in the fabulous island paradise of Mount Horai;
from the third she required a garment made of the fur of the fire-rat,
supposed to be non-inflammable; a fourth was to get the shining jewel
of many hues from the dragon’s head; and the fifth a swallow’s cowry
shell. It is no wonder that they all failed. This bamboo maiden was
then wooed by the Emperor, but equally in vain, though they remained on
friendly terms and kept up an exchange of sentimental _uta_ poems. She
was eventually taken up to heaven in a flying chariot, brought by her
relations in the moon; for it seems she had been banished to earth for
an offence which she had committed. Thus this wonderful “Shining Lady,”
from the joint of a bamboo, only three inches high--disappears.
Another bamboo fairy-story dear to the hearts of all Japanese children
is that of the Tongue-cut Sparrow. Sparrows and bamboos have been the
closest friends from an unknown age, and we hear the song “The sparrows
sing on the bamboos so sweetly.” The bamboo and sparrows combined form
the crest of the great lord of Sendai. Any Japanese child will tell you
how the poor little sparrow was driven out of his bamboo cage after
losing his little tongue, because he had eaten starch for washing
clothes belonging to a mean old woman. When her husband returned home
from the mountain and learned the fate of his pet bird, he said, “He
meant nothing bad in eating your starch. When you could so easily have
forgiven him, how could you be so cruel as to cut off his tongue and
drive him away? If I had been here he should never have been punished
so severely: this heartless deed was done because I was away. Alas! how
can I help shedding tears?” He started out the next morning to find his
lost pet, singing--
“Tongue-cut sparrow,
Where are you?
Where is your lodging,
Where are you?
Tongue-cut sparrow,
Chu, Chu, Chu.”
The sparrow soon recognised the voice of his master, and jumped out
of his house, exclaiming, “Pray enter my humble home!” The house was
made, of course, of bamboo bush, as sparrows’ houses always are, and
the pillars and roofs were also of bamboo. The sparrow said, “You have
come a long way to see me. How can I thank you enough! I cannot help
shedding tears of joy.” The story goes on to tell of all the strange
things the sparrow did, which turned to fortune for the old man.
However, when his wife came singing the same song, her greediness made
her bring a heavy basket instead of a light one, as her husband had
done. So when she opened the cover she found not gold and treasures as
her husband had done, but a monster with three eyes, a giant toad, a
viper, and other terrible reptiles.
Another simple Chinese story is from the so-called “Four-and-Twenty
Paragons of Filial Piety.” There was a man whose filial piety was so
wonderful that his true heart moved even Heaven
[Illustration: IRISES, HORIKIRI]
and Earth. His old mother wished to eat the tender bamboo shoots one
cold winter day when it was absurd to try and get them. This man
started towards a bush of bamboo to look into it, and there, to his
great surprise, he found plenty of the new shoots. It is said that
his great filial piety moved the hearts of the bamboo bushes and they
answered his true devotion voluntarily. Filial piety is the virtue _par
excellence_ of the Eastern world; such a story is very popular with
the Japanese people, and is read to their children to encourage their
devotion towards their old parents.
Like its associate the pine, the bamboo plays an important part in
the art of flower arrangement, though there again we are told by Mr.
Conder that strictly speaking it is regarded as neither a tree nor a
plant. Possibly the most important of all its uses in the art lies in
the fact that so many of the vessels made for holding the flowers are
made of bamboo, some merely plain sections, others of the most fanciful
description. Some of the baskets of Chinese origin were made of split
bamboo, and were so much prized in Japan that high prices were given
for antique specimens. So complicated an art does this one of floral
arrangement appear to be, that it would require many years to learn
the correct choice of the vessels into which certain flowers should
be arranged, which flowers are suitable as offerings for ceremonial
occasions, the correct combination of flowers and trees or shrubs, and
the shape in which they are to be arranged. The list of bamboo vessels
alone, with their fanciful names, would require months to master, and
no doubt in each separate one only certain flowers are permissible.
The original use of bamboo flower-vases seems to date from the days
of Yoshimasa, and, like so many other things, started by being merely
simple sections of a thick bamboo cut so that the bottom was closed
by a natural division, and the cylinders were a foot or so high. Then
came the invention of innumerable fancy forms: portions of the sides
were notched out, side apertures were introduced, and sometimes four or
five compositions were arranged in one vase. The names chiefly refer to
some fancied resemblance in the general shape--so we read of the Lion’s
Mouth shape, the Travelling-Pillow shape, Chinese Gateway, Shark’s
Mouth, Wild Geese’s Gateway, Lantern shape, Five Storey shape, Crane’s
Neck shape, and Monkey shape; in fact a list of many pages in length
might be given of all the varieties, but from the above will be seen
the extreme fancifulness of the supposed resemblance. Then, again, do
not imagine that the much-prized baskets are just a basket and nothing
more. They also assume fanciful names and shapes, such as the Raincoat
basket, so called because the frayed top hanging over the edge is
suggestive of the collar of a Japanese farmer’s straw raincoat; Cicada
and Butterfly baskets, from their resemblance to the insect; and the
Hood-shaped basket, suggesting the shape of the hoods worn by Japanese
women in cold weather.
Then we come to perhaps the prettiest of all, the boat-shaped
vessels, which are suspended by a cord or chain. The simplest of
these are bamboo tubes splayed off at the ends, hollowed out, and
hung horizontally. These, one would have thought, were probably their
original form as conceived by Yoshimasa whilst observing children
sailing toy boats filled with flowers; but the more elaborate bronze
vases in exact imitation of ships and junks came first, and the simpler
ones are of later origin. Some attribute the first use of boat vases to
the fact that the celebrated philosopher Soami, to please his patron
Yoshimasa, took a bronze vessel of accidental resemblance to a boat,
and by his arrangement of the flowers suggested the idea of a sailing
vessel. The regent was so pleased with this novel flower arrangement
that Soami devoted his attention to drawing up certain rules with
regard to boat arrangements.
Bamboo rafts formed of bamboos of different lengths tied together to
hang horizontally, either supporting a basket of flowers, or with one
of the tubes hollowed so as to hold the stems of the branches, show yet
another way in which the bamboo is used. Such a raft laden with cherry
blossoms is arranged to suggest the mountain scenery of Arashiyama and
the flower-laden craft in the season of cherry blossoms. The correct
use of the branches of bamboo as a decoration would appear to be no
less complicated than the choice of the vessels. A portion of the round
stem or tube is selected and only a few leaf-clad twigs are permitted
to remain, and, according to the occasion for which the arrangement is
being made, the tube must be splayed or cut horizontally. For instance,
for wedding feasts the cut must be concealed by leaves, as the sight of
it would be considered unlucky and suggestive of severed friendship.
Regulations also exist as to the number of twigs or leaves which are
to be left on the stems,--three or five as a rule; and yet further
rules as to the number of leaves to be left on these same twigs. Three
combinations are approved, known as the Fish tail, Goldfish tail, and
Flying Geese shape, which consists of three sloping leaves suggestive
of the outline of a wild goose in flight. Probably the best known
combination is that of the pine, bamboo, and plum, as it is specially
employed at the New Year, when almost every house in Japan will have
such a combination arranged on the _tokonoma_. Enough has been said
to show the bewildering number of laws and regulations that surround
this especial art, and it is not to be wondered at that Mr. Conder
is probably the only foreigner who has ever mastered the subject, as
indeed it requires years of study before a flower arrangement completed
by the hand of one who is not a Japanese could hope to pass muster
before the critical eye of the professor.