THE PINE-TREE
The pine-trees--_Matsu-no-ki_--of Japan are so closely and inseparably
associated with the country, in the beauty of the landscape, the
national customs and the national art, that it seems impossible when
describing the floral year to omit the pine-trees, surely the grandest
and noblest decoration of the land. They seem to welcome you to Japan,
for as your ship glides up the Inland Sea the pine-trees will greet
you on every side, the mountains will be clad with their eternal
green, every island will have some venerable trees twisted and bent by
storms and age. To the Japanese the pine is the king of trees, full of
poetical suggestion and perfectly incomparable; and certainly it would
be impossible to imagine Japan without her pine-trees. The impressive
grandeur of every Shinto temple, every Buddhist shrine, is deepened
by the grey-green trees standing in their silent gardens; they seem
a necessity to such august places. Think of the pines at Uyeno or at
Shiba; their merit is as great as the cherry-trees in the parks; to
them and the cryptomeria belongs the task of guarding all the temples
of the land. Every Tokugawa feudal castle had a moat bordered with
pine-trees--how many have now been swept away and nothing left but a
meaningless waste! The Imperial palace is chiefly shaded by the trees,
their heavy foliage suggesting the depth of the forest. To-day every
common house and garden has its guardian pine-tree at the gate.
The Japanese are very fond of visiting special _meisho_ or “famous
places,” and how many of these places have been made famous by the
beauty of their pine-trees, for where is the spot of natural beauty in
all the country which has no pines? The three most “famous places” owe
their beauty to water and the pines, nothing else. The great _hokku_
poet Basho found himself quite unable to sing his “seventeen syllables”
at Matsushima, the land of the pine-clad islands; he was a wandering
poet who left a line or two wherever he went, but here he considered
his silence was the greatest song of praise for the place, which he
said was the best in Japan. He wrote in his diary: “One isle stands
pointing up to the sky; another bows crawling over the waves; one
parts at the left, another joins again at the right. The green beauty
of the pine-trees is superb; the branches and leaves are bent quite
naturally by the wind and tide.” Indeed I do not wonder that he found
himself unable to describe this land of fairy isles within the limits
of seventeen syllables, for given unlimited space and an unlimited
number of syllables it is hard to convey any idea of the beauty of the
scene. Eight and its compounds are favourite round numbers with the
Japanese, so they assured me that there were 808 in all of these tiny
islands; and surely no one would dispute it. Each great winter storm
sweeping in from the Pacific makes one or more of these toy islands
crumble and disappear; but the sea makes rapid inroads and hollows out
fresh archways or fresh tunnels, so very quickly a promontory breaks
off and forms a new island, to be given a new fancy name, thus keeping
up the traditional number. In every available nook stands one of the
storm-bent trees which have given name and fame to the locality, whose
praises have been sung by
[Illustration: PINE-TREE AT MATSUSHIMA]
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:--
The dawn is near, and the hoar frost falls on the pine-tree twigs;
but its dark green leaves suffer no change. Morning and evening
beneath its shade the leaves are swept away, yet they never fail.
True it is that these pine-trees shed not all their leaves,
their verdure remains fresh for ages long; even among evergreen
trees--the emblem of unchangeableness--exalted is their fame to the
end of time--the fame of the two pine-trees that have grown old
together.
Their true poets seem never to tire of the pine, and it seems
especially to appeal to the essentially poetical mind of the whole
nation. In order to show me how it can be made the theme of poems and
songs in conjunction with so many different subjects, a poet said to
me, “It is simply wonderful to know what a good harmony the pine-tree
[Illustration: AZALEA AND PINE-TREE]
keeps with other natural subjects; it harmonises with the misty spring
moon, as well as with the summer moon. A well-known poem has been
written on the pine-tree of the rainy season; and many poets sing of it
together with the autumnal moon, and also it harmonises perfectly with
the winter moon. You will find hundreds of poems written on the pines
under snow; and the rain makes a beautiful combination with it also. It
harmonises with mists, winds, and thunder lights; and you will see many
pictures of the pine-tree and the rising sun. There is no better sight
than to see it with the waves of the sea; and it goes well together
with birds, with storks, pigeons, and with turtles or monkeys. The
cuckoo will remind you of the pine-tree, and it makes a good subject
with fire-flies and cicadæ.” It is said that the pine is a brother of
the plum and bamboo, and they make their appearance together in various
forms on occasions of congratulation; and in conjunction with the crane
and tortoise it is used in decoration to express the sentiment of happy
old age.
The pine plays so large a part in the art of flower arrangement, so
admirably described by Mr. Conder, that I cannot do better than quote
some passages from the _Floral Art of Japan_ in reference to the pine.
_Flowers used at Moon-viewing_
Moon-viewing is at all times a favourite pastime of the Japanese,
but the great moon festival of the year is on the fifteenth day
of the eighth month. The more important dwellings have a special
chamber from which the sight of the moonlit landscape can be
enjoyed. The floral arrangement occupies the recess of the chamber,
and has of course no real connection with the outside prospect;
but in the flower composition itself the moonlit landscape is
expressed. A branch of a pine-tree is used, and between the
_principal_ and _secondary_ lines of the composition a special
branch is introduced, fancifully called the _moon-shadow-branch_; a
hollow gap is also formed between the foliage, bounded by a special
branch called the _dividing-branch_. In the composition the idea is
to suggest both the opening through which the moon can be partially
observed and the dark branch which appears to cross its surface. To
fully appreciate the analogy one must be familiar with the scenery
of Japan, and have seen, on a clear night, the irregular pine-trees
standing out against the moonlit heavens.
We are told that the principal kinds of pine are the _Pinus
Thunbergia_, known by the Japanese as the black or male pine; _Pinus
densiflora_, called the red or female pine; and _Pinus parviflora_.
There appear to be many different ways of arranging the pine branches,
but in all cases they are left as much as possible in their natural
state; a favourite treatment is that of a broad stump cut off
horizontally, with a thick twisted branch springing from its base.
_Pinus parviflora_, on account of the straightness and delicacy of
its leaves, is often arranged in a simple vertical style, using the
sprays; but for compositions with other species of the tree, thick
gnarled branches are preferred. Mr. Conder also tells us of a pretty
and poetical arrangement in connection with wedding ceremonies--
At wedding feasts a double arrangement in a pair of similar
standing vases is employed. For this purpose a branch of the _male_
pine is placed in one vessel, and a branch of the _female_ pine in
the other. The general form of each design would be similar, but
the branch of the _female_ pine facing the opposite vase should
stretch a little beneath the corresponding branch of the _male_
pine. These together are called the “Destiny-uniting” branches, and
the complete design is said to typify eternal union.
In another passage he tells us how faithfully they reproduce the effect
of the forest as--
Occasionally in suspended arrangements of pine, long stiff threads
are hung from the branches, in conventional imitation of the
parasitic grasses which attach themselves to this tree; and in
disposing such threads, their balance into groups of three, five,
or seven irregular lengths is carefully attended to.
Another very favourite form of fancy arrangement is called the “Fuji
pine,” as in such a composition a branch is bent to resemble the
outline of Mount Fuji, and is combined with other branches and foliage
in such a manner as to give the profile of the bare conical peak, and
suggest at the same time the wooded country at its base.
Yet another form of pine decoration is the _Kadomatsu_ or pair of gate
pines, which are the most important decorations in front of every house
at the New Year; the first seven days of the year are called _Matsu no
uchi_ or “Within the Pines.” The origin of these _Kadomatsu_ dates as
far back as eight hundred and fifty years. One of the old _Kadomatsu_
poets says--
Kadomatsu no, itonami tatsuru sono hodoni
Haru akegatatano yoya narinuran.
(While busy decorating the pines at the gate,
The dawn of the New Year speedily comes.)
The pines in front of the gates are placed in pairs--the rougher and
more prickly one, called _Thunbergi_ or male pine, on the left, which
is the side of honour in Japan; the softer and more graceful one, _P.
densiflora_ or the female pine, on the right. The custom of adding
bamboo is of more recent origin; and the other decorations include a
rope, especially named _shimenawa_, with strips of white paper, a
cray fish, ferns, a large orange called dai dai, a leaf or two of an
evergreen tree, dried persimmons, dried chestnuts, etc. Each one of
these articles has its own peculiar origin, and is a symbol of good
luck for the year and for life. The poet Ikku Zenzi writes--
At every door the pine-trees stand,
One mile-post more to the spirit land;
And as there’s gladness, so there’s sadness.
And indeed, whatever the pine-trees at the gate may mean, it is for
ourselves to choose whether we be happy or sad.
THE END
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.