To understand thoroughly and appreciate justly the theory and history
of the art of landscape and other gardening in Japan would require the
study of a life-time. It is doubtful if any foreigner could accomplish
this task even at the expense of so great devotion;--so subtle and
in some respects bizarre and whimsical is the philosophy of nature
implied in the tenets of some of the various schools. The native
experts, too, take the same delight in minute distinctions, and in
the arguments urged in support of them, in the field of æsthetics,
which characterises the speculations of Japanese Buddhism in the field
of religion. And, indeed, in Japan, as everywhere else in the world,
the philosophy of nature and the philosophy of art are both closely
related to ideas and sentiments of at least a genuine _quasi_-religious
character. I shall therefore make no attempt to discourse on so
abstruse and difficult matters.
It may safely be said, however, that the art of landscape-gardening,
as it has developed in Japan, has the general features which are
common to all forms of Japanese art. According to Baron Kuki, official
custodian of the Emperor’s art treasures, these are, chiefly, the
following three: “The first is mildness and pure simplicity. Colouring
is for the most part sober and plain, and very seldom gorgeous.
Japanese art prefers moderation and genial ease to excessive grandeur;
sobriety and chastity to profundity, intensity, and vulgarity. Even
such horror-inspiring subjects as the pictures of hell are not
thrilling in effect. The statue of Buddha at Nara is grand, but it
is only the highwater mark of Continental influence, and does not
represent the pure Japanese disposition.
“The second characteristic of Japanese art is its exquisite lightness
or delicacy. This is due to the joyful frame of the people’s mind, and
to the wonderful dexterity of their hands. There is no artistic product
which is not marked by charming workmanship.
“The third feature is its idealism in representation. Japanese art
is not realistic, it does not aim at photographic accuracy; but by
the free and bold exercise of imagination, it tries to abstract the
essential aspect of objects, and to give expression to the artist’s
sentiments by its portrayal. It is for this reason that form is
comparatively little regarded, while idea is considered all-important;
that it is weak in realistic delineation and strong in decorative
design. These three characteristics underlie all Japanese art, and
distinguish it from the art of other Oriental nations.”
So far as I am able to recognise these characteristics as present in
the gardens which I have seen, they have resulted in certain marked
excellencies and in certain scarcely less marked defects. These gardens
are to a degree realistic, in that they try to present a picture
of all the principal features of nature,--oftentimes, and indeed
generally, within a small and seemingly inadequate amount of space.
Miniature mountains, rivers, lakes, water-falls, forest, and stretches
of sea-coast, may be comprised within the grounds of a gentleman’s
ordinary estate, or even within the few square-feet of the humbler
citizen’s back-yard. And it is uniformly the _back-yard_ in Japan,
where the grounds for “plaisance” are situated. Even a platter or other
dish may be made the receptacle for a garden which shall essay to hold
up to view a picture of those complex artistic achievements that are
accomplished by nature on a so much larger scale.
[Illustration: “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.’”
The most beautiful and perfect of the gardens of Japan, in the
old-fashioned Chino-Japanese style, which I have ever seen, are the
Kōrakuen in Tokyo, and the Katsura-no-Rikyū in Kyoto. The former
was originally the garden of the Prince of Mito, the site of whose
mansion is now occupied by the Koishikawa Arsenal. Thus the quiet
beauty of the art of the “Old Japan” is brought into contrast with
the preparations for displaying its strength of the “New Japan.” But
the garden remains intact; and it is justly pronounced “the finest
specimen of the Japanese landscape gardener’s art to be seen in the
capital.” It is not seen, however, by most visitors to Japan, both
because they do not take an interest in, or know where to look for
the best things, and also because a special order is necessary to
gain admittance to it. The very name is an embodiment of the finest
philosophical sentiment with regard to the relations in which the
leisurely enjoyment of nature stands to the sterner duties of a devoted
human life. It is derived from three Chinese words:--_Kō_ (“afterward”)
_Ra_ (“pleasure”), and _Kuen_ (“garden”). It is, therefore, an
“afterward-pleasure-garden”;--the thought being that the wise man
has his anxieties earlier than others, is beforehand, so to say, in
thoughtful care; but his pleasures come later.
The original plan of Kōrakuen was to reproduce many of the scenes of
the country with which the literati were familiar--at least, by their
names. And Prince Mito had it laid out as a place in which to enjoy
a calm old age after a life of labour. One of its miniature lakes is
copied from a celebrated lake in China. A temple on a wooded hill is a
replica of a famous temple in Kyoto. Again, a bridge and zigzag path
lead to a shrine famous in Chinese history; and then we come to an
arched stone bridge and another shrine which has an octagonal shape in
allusion to the Eight Diagrams of the Chinese system of divination.
Everywhere there are magnificent trees, which were selected so as to
have some one species at the heighth of its beauty at each season of
the year; thus there are cherry-trees for the Spring, maples for the
Autumn, and plum-trees for the Winter.
An attendant who was to serve as an escort was already in waiting, when
we and the Japanese lady whom we accompanied arrived at the gate; and
somewhat later General Nishimura, the Government officer in charge of
the Arsenal, joined us. After we had taken tea and had a pleasant chat
with him we were given the very unusual privilege of taking several
photographs of different parts of the garden, among them one or two of
a group, which included the General himself.
The Katsura-no-Rikyū, or Katsura Summer Palace, was formerly a retreat
made for a Princess of the Imperial family by this name. It is now one
of the four so-called “Palaces of the Mikado”--more properly speaking
there are two palaces and two villas,--in the city and suburbs of the
ancient capital. Permits must be obtained from the Department of the
Household, in order to visit any of these palaces; and when I was
first in Japan, in 1892, they were much more difficult to secure than
they are now. Through Marquis, then Count, Matsukata, who was at that
time Prime Minister, the necessary permission was obtained; and the
same kindly service furnished me with a letter to the Governor of the
District of Kyoto, who sent his private secretary to act as an escort
to all the four palaces. This was particularly good fortune; for this
gentleman, in his youth, had served on the side of the Mikado’s forces
in their contest against the forces of the Shōgunate; he was thus able
to point out many details of interest--among them, the defacements
of the decorations of the Nijo Palace, that “dream of golden beauty
within,” which were made by these young patriots, who thought in this
way to show their contempt for the Shōgun, and for ancient art, and
their devotion to the cause of the Mikado and of progress.
[Illustration: “WINDING PATHS OVER RUDE MOSS-COVERED STEPPING-STONES”]
The garden of the Katsura Summer Palace represents the style of the art
which was practised by Kobori Enshū and his “School.” These men were
as aristocratic in their tastes as they were enthusiastic in teaching
and practising their theories of the arts. According to their canons,
everything was to be exceedingly plain and simple; and all the other
arts were to be combined in the celebration of the _cha-no-yu_, or
tea ceremonies. Indeed this garden, and all the buildings and other
structures in it, may be said to be planned for use in the highest
kind of style belonging to such æsthetic enjoyment. Its exceedingly
plain summer-houses are, accordingly, so placed as to look out on
modest pools and artificial streams, on plain rustic bridges and
winding paths over rude moss-covered stepping-stones, brought from the
two extremities of the Empire. Everywhere there are trees of various
species and trained in manifold artificial shapes; there are also
moss-clad hillocks and a goodly store of antique lanterns; and in the
lake there are islets deftly placed. The lake itself is full of the
water-plant _Kohone_, which here has red flowers as well as the usual
yellow ones.
It is not necessary to describe or even refer to the more celebrated of
the temple gardens, such as _Kinkakuji_ and _Ginkakuji_, in Kyoto; or
the groves surrounding the Tombs of the Shōguns in Shiba and at Nikko;
or the park at Nara, and other nearly or quite flowerless specimens of
the art of gardening in Japan; for has not everyone who has spent not
more than a single week in the country seen them all; and are they not
all sufficiently described in the guidebooks?
The more beautiful of the modern gardens in Japan, while retaining
the most admirable features of the native art, have succeeded in
adding something which it formerly lacked and in avoiding more
fully its suggestion of pettiness and of artificiality. This they have
accomplished by allowing a larger freedom from ancient conventions and
conceits in the way both of modifying the native traditions and of
introducing foreign elements. And since in the best private gardens
there has been a most judicious selection and combination of natural
resources and æsthetical ideals, there are some examples of the art of
landscape-gardening in Japan, which are not excelled, if indeed they
are equalled, by anything else of the kind.
I do not expect ever to see again a landscape, prepared and cultivated
by human skill, quite so perfectly beautiful as was the Imperial garden
at Aoyama, on the afternoon of November 16, 1906, when the annual
“chrysanthemum party” was given there to His Majesty’s guests. The
rainy weather of the days preceding had prevented the Imperial party
from attending the festivities in person. But it had added something
to the customary charm of the landscape; for the showers had freshened
all the colours of ground and foliage and sky, and the moist haze was
now producing that exquisite softness and blending of them all which is
so characteristic of the “atmosphere” of Japanese natural scenery and
of Japanese pictorial art. The size of the garden and the manner of
its artistic treatment render it, in some of its features, more like
an English deer-park than are any of the gardens of the more purely
Chino-Japanese style. There were large pines and maples and autumn
camelias of wonderful growth. There was great variety to the surface,
both natural and helped out by art; and on such a generous scale as
nowhere to suggest artificiality or pettiness. The hills were real
hills, and worthy of the name; they made the assembling guests climb
their sides and gave them new and extended views as a reward when
they had reached their tops. There were also many ponds and winding
streams, with picturesque curved bridges crossing the streams. But most
conclusive of all the proofs of the highest æsthetical skill was the
arrangement of all the larger and the minuter features, from whatever
point of view one held them in regard. The most brilliantly coloured
maples, of the cut-leaf variety, were planted singly rather than in
groups; and every detail of their delicate shapes was carefully brought
out against a background of the dark green of pines or the golden
yellow of the jinkō tree. As one strolled up any of the several winding
paths that led to the high plateau on which the show of chrysanthemums
was placed, one could stop at almost every step and admire the change
of far-reaching vistas or nearer views; and over every square yard of
the whole, not only each tree and shrub, but each twig and leaf, seemed
to have been made an object of loving care.
To speak of the show of flowers, the entertainment, and the friends we
met on this occasion would savour more of gossip about garden parties
than of description of the art of landscape-gardening. But a word
about the flowers. I am of the impression that while we raise in this
country as fine, or finer, individual chrysanthemums, the Japanese
excel us in the culture and development of the whole plant. For
example, some of the specimens shown at this Imperial garden party had
as many as 985 flowers on a single stock, making a plant fourteen feet
in circumference; and others had no fewer than fifty-five varieties
growing from one stock. The more properly artistic character of the
show, however, was maintained by the elegant and simple arrangement of
the single flowers as to colour and other kindred effects.
Among the private gardens in Japan which have combined the excellences
of the native art with certain modifications introduced from abroad,
may be mentioned those of Count Okuma and Marquis Nabeshima. The
former seems to me to have been more influenced by English examples;
it has a remarkable collection of Japanese maples,--more than one
hundred varieties in all. The Count is also quite justly proud of
his chrysanthemums, which are as fine as any in Japan. On the other
hand the Marquis’ garden has the appearance of having been under the
influence of Italian examples,--not, indeed, of the older and more
artificial style, but of the sort surrounding the more beautiful of the
modern villas.
I have already referred to the fondness of the Japanese for exceedingly
minute representations of large natural objects, or even of extensive
natural scenes. Hence those single specimens or collections of
_Bonsai_, on which certain wealthy æsthetes have spent thousands of
_yen_, and which may render their possessors as much the objects of
friendly or envious rivalry as were the rival cultivators of rare
species of tulips, in Holland some decades of years ago. Some of these
aforesaid _Bonsai_ are tiny pines or other trees, only a few inches
in heighth, but of years mounting up to a half century or more. Such
specimens require more tender and intelligent cultural care than
the majority of human beings are wont to receive. One of the most
delightful and benevolent and widely useful of Japanese ladies never
travels from home even for a single night without taking along her
choice collection of _bonsai_, which she cares for daily with her own
hands. This same lady presented to my wife one of the products of this
art, which consisted of scores of tiny pines growing out of the sand
and so arranged that the eye could look through the grove as though
upon the distant sea,--a fairly complete picture in miniature of a
celebrated view in Kiushiu, along the seashore near Fukuoka.
In Japan every national festival and, indeed, almost every form of
social gathering or species of entertainment partakes more or less of
the character of a garden party. At the remotest and meanest tea-house
in the mountains or by the sea, if the weather permits, you take
your cup of tea where you can look upon a scene which nature or man
has made into a work of art. If you call upon a native friend, you
must enjoy the refreshment which is always offered, either in the
garden or in a room or on a verandah, which looks out upon a garden.
At every dinner party, when the season is favourable, either before
the meal, or afterward in the moonlight, the guests are expected to
wander over the grounds of the host or of the tea-house where the
entertainment is given, enjoying its natural beauties. Of the various
forms of excursioning, the pleasure of which implies an appreciation of
nature,--such as mushroom-gathering, snow-viewing, etc., I have already
spoken.
Garden parties are not infrequently given by the more wealthy Japanese
at an expense of thousands of _yen_. The programme of one of the most
elaborate of those given in Tokyo in the Autumn of 1906, included not
only the inspection of the gardens and extensive museum of the host,
music and refreshments, but the exhibition of Japanese histrionic
performances and dances, in which actors and scenic apparatus were
as good as could be seen in the very highest-class theatres. The
most elaborate of these histrionic performances bore the title of
“Urashima,” the Japanese Rip Van Winkle, and employed a _dramatis
personæ_ and orchestra of twenty-one persons. The description in the
programme of the First Scene reads as follows: “In the depths of the
broad expanse of the Ocean, stands Ryūgū, the seagod’s palace, bathed
in serene moonlight which shines bright upon the corals and emeralds.
Young fishes swimming about the palace add to the charm of the scene.
The graceful movement of the sea-bream, the lively evolutions of the
lobster, the brisk flouncing of the flounder, etc., are comically
represented in the _Joruri_.” Thus ran the description of the printed
programme. The ill condition of the weather,--for it had been raining
steadily all day, and the out-of-door part of the entertainment had to
be much curtailed,--did not prevent the several thousands of invited
guests from attending, or the feast from being spread in the large
refreshment tent, which was so arranged that its open side gave a view
of a fountain surrounded by chrysanthemums and a beautiful bit of the
garden beyond.
About the same time, another wealthy Japanese celebrated an important
birthday for which the out-of-door preparations were more elaborate
and unusual, if not so æsthetically refined. Mr. A---- had reached his
sixty-first year, a time when Heaven should be thanked for prolonging
one’s life beyond the customary span, and one’s friends should be
summoned to render fitting congratulations. This time, also, the
weather was most unpropitious; but the continued downpour, the soaked
grass, and liquid mud, did not deter several thousands of guests from
assembling. The entire wall surrounding the extensive grounds was
solidly covered with ground-pine and diamond-shaped medallions of
flowers set in at intervals,--the whole outlined with the national
colours, red and white. Boards raised and spread with matting furnished
dry paths from place to place inside the garden, where numerous booths
of bamboo and ground-pine were cleverly distributed, from which the
guests were served with tea and many kinds of cakes, with fruit, and
with tobacco and beer. Hundreds of little maids in the gay dresses
and with the painted faces of the professional waitress, were running
about everywhere, ready to bring the various foods and drinks. In two
large tents “continuous performances” of fencing or of a theatrical
and other sort, were going on; and at the entrances of each stood
scores of boys with Japanese paper umbrellas, employed in escorting the
rain-bedrizzled crowd from one booth or tent to another. Several bands
were stationed here and there, some playing foreign music and others
performing on native instruments.
But the most astonishing attempt at the extraordinary by way of
entertainment took the shape of a miniature Fuji, which was more than
seventy-five feet in heighth, and which could be climbed by a spiral
path from the inside. In a clear day, a fine view of Tokyo and its
immediate and remoter surroundings, including the real Fuji, could
have been seen from the platform at the top. All the rooms of the house
on the garden side had been thrown into one, in which, on tables and
rows of steps were arranged the store of presents from the guests.
The greater number consisted of “_katsebushi_,” or fancy wooden boxes
filled with dried fish. But besides, there were many rolls of white and
red silk, for underwear, or for wadding kimonos in the cold weather;
numerous screens decorated with the appropriate emblems of pine, bamboo
and plum branches, or with cranes to signify wishes for long life, and
made of a variety of materials from candy cake to bronze; a pair of
rather more than ordinarily well-modelled bronze camels, designed to
decorate the grounds and presented by four different banks in which the
host was a director.
In each of the large tents a camp fire of charcoal was kept burning,
which softened somewhat the damp air; and if one was especially
honoured with a _hibachi_ full of live coals at the back, one could
sit to see through a play with a fair amount of comfort. Of these
histrionic performances, the most interesting to me was one especially
designed to typify congratulations and wishes for long life, and
regularly performed at the period of the New Year’s festivities. In it
a priest figured as the guardian of a mystical bridge which led up to
Paradise; and over the crossing of which a hermit from the mountains
contended with two devils, one with hoary locks and one with long and
tangled hair of brilliant red, who gnashed their tusks and danced and
stamped the ground with fury.
A very different garden party was that given, on a similar occasion,
by the Marquis and Marchioness Nabeshima. Although the date was so
much later, the fifth of December, the weather was all that could
be desired. The engraved and embossed card of invitation, literally
interpreted, asked us to do the host the honour of attending a
“sixty-first birthday wine-drinking party.” The Marquis was born under
that one of the twelve signs of the Japanese zodiac which is called
“the sign of the Horse!” It should be explained that the coincidence
of the Japanese reckoning of the periods of life by twelves with the
Chinese system of reckoning by periods of ten, affords a reason for
the pleasant fiction that, at sixty-one, a man begins life over again
by becoming a child as it were. It is therefore proper to give him
presents adapted to the improvement and pleasure and employment of
children. The guests who gathered on this occasion were the élite
of Tokyo; and the Emperor and Empress had signalised the occasion by
sending congratulatory presents. Some of the presents, sent by the
various friends, were simple offerings in wooden boxes, of food, or of
crape; but others were beautiful and expensive dishes of silver, or
bags of money resting underneath effigies of the “god of luck.” From an
edge of the garden, which overhangs a valley, Fujiyama was to be seen
in the distance. Returning to the house, we found that the stage in the
ball-room was being used for an exhibition by two famous dancers of the
old-fashioned kind (the older man said to be the most famous in Japan),
who were dancing to the music made by six or seven samisen players
and singers, seated above a chorus of four or five others who were
drumming and “yowling” after the fashion of performers in the “Nō.” At
a delightful collation which followed, the speech of congratulation to
the host was made in English by Prince Ito, who had just returned to
his own country, for a brief stay, from his work as Resident-General
in Korea. This garden party became the more memorable, because it was
while walking in the grounds that I was summoned to meet the Prince,
and receive the first intimation of an intention, which culminated in
the invitation to visit Korea as his guest and “unofficial adviser,”
the following Spring. And now, alas! this great statesman has--to quote
the words of a native paper--“died for the Koreans at the hands of a
Korean.”
It has been for several years the custom of Count Okuma to throw open
his beautiful grounds to garden parties, not only in the interest of
entertaining his many personal and political friends, but also in the
favour of an endless variety of good causes. Here rare roses, and
wonderful chrysanthemums, and various native exhibitions of athletic,
or musical, or histrionic skill, may be seen; here, also, problems of
state and plans of beneficence may be discussed.
[Illustration: “THE WORSHIP OF NATURE IN THE OPEN AIR”]
It would be a great mistake, however, to suppose that the enjoyment of
the Japanese garden in a social way is confined to the wealthy and the
nobles with their large estates. All over the country the multitude of
the people love nature and have it abundantly at their command to enjoy
in quiet ways. In Tokyo thousands of artisans and common labourers and
coolies, with wives and children, will trudge for miles to view the
plum or cherry blossoms, or to see the morning-glories open at four
o’clock of a Summer morning. The temple groves on all the many holidays
are thronged with crowds, who combine their unintelligent and not
even half-hearted worship with a much more intelligent and heartfelt
appreciation of the beauties of nature. Indeed, with these multitudes,
the worship of the departed ancestor in the family shrine in-doors, and
the worship of nature in the open air constitutes their only religion.
How profoundly influenced is all the art and all the national life of
the Japanese by this love and æsthetical appreciation of all forms
of natural beauty, it is not necessary to say in detail. Gardens and
garden parties are not trifling incidents or accessories of man’s
existence, happiness, and progress, in Japan; for there, indeed, they
are taken very seriously, and as necessaries of living well and happily
at all.