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Fig. 1. -- TRAINED ASH TREE. ROYAL BOTANIC
SOCIETY, LONDON.
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Fig. 2. -- CHABO HIBA (CHAMÆCYPARIS BREVIRAMIA).
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Fig. 3. -- SHAPED TREES IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN.
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First of all, I should like to
show you a photograph of an ash tree trained into an arbour in the grounds
of the Royal Botanical Society, Regent’s Park [Plate I., Fig. 1].
The arbour interests me specially,
because of the training of the gnarled trunks; they come down from either
side to meet and intertwine. Abundant leaves flourish over them.
It is practical also, for one can sit down under that shade and take afternoon
tea with friends. This love of rustic decoration and countrified
effect in the centre of the metropolis is much to be admired. It
shows love of the country and of homes in the country. But yet we
know that what is done beautifully for its own sake, and what is done beautifully
for the sake of utility, are quite distinct one from the other.
In the next illustration [Plate
I., Fig. 2] we have an expression of dignity, gravity, and stability.
The tree is commonly known as Chabo hiba, the botanical name Chamæcyparis
breviramia. Its foliage is made up of tiny triangular scaly leaves,
and its massive green enshrouding a rock suggests the stolid power of individuality.
Evidently that is the idea of the artist.
The Japanese artists have this
peculiarity in their reproductions of nature: they minimize the actual
size of the models instead of magnifying it, and the conclusion is easily
drawn that their work is apt to be more often pretty and fascinating than
dignified and imposing. But the effect of this little plant will
upset that commonly alleged theory.
The height of this araucaria with
its pot is no more than two feet and a half.
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Fig. 1. -- GRAFT OF CHABO HIBA AND HIYOKU HIBA.
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Fig. 2. -- CHABO HIBA (THUYA OBTUSA NANA).
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The next illustration [Plate II.,
Fig. 1] is of a chamæcyparis, but two different varieties
are engrafted together. It measures over three feet, and stands rather
tall for a dwarf tree. Please notice the graceful boughs of Hiyoku
hiba mingling with the clusters of leaves of the ordinary Chabo
hiba. This is effected by whip-grafting. Hiyoku hiba
is the stock, and Chabo hiba is the scion. The whole thing
thus produced is rather different from either of these viewed separately,
and one would be inclined to think it imitated a weeping willow.
Now we shall pass on to examine
some of the constructions of these branches – perhaps I had rather say
the training of them. There never existed in this branch of art such
technicalities as in Chanoyu, commonly known as tea-ceremony, and
sometimes called the tea-drinking cult, although in treatises upon landscape-gardening
we learn a great many hard rules. But the cultivation of miniature
trees is more common in practice than any of the tea cults just mentioned.
It is vulgar, while they are sacred. One might almost say it is well
appreciated by “the man in the street,” and is therefore of peculiar interest
to us.
The Chabo hiba in the next
illustration [Plate II., Fig. 2] is the result of rather rude and severe
manipulation. This form of an upright trunk is seen quite as often
as a gnarled one in miniature trees. The stout trunk of the tree
is often not amenable to the arts of the artist gardener when he receives
it; so it is sometimes expedient to cut it off at the height required;
but often it is left untouched, and in other cases submitted to a skillful
grafting by approach – that is, a grafting effected by bringing a younger
tree to the point where it is required, and the roots of it are sawn away
when the operation is completed. This method is known as Yobi
ki, “a tree sent for.”
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Fig. 1. -- CHABO HIBA (THUYA OBTUSA NANA).
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Fig. 2. -- THE SAME (REVERSE SIDE).
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Next [Plate III., Fig. 1] we have
quite a different style of training from those which have been described.
The tree has here been severely handled, for the stem is twisted and bent;
evidently it was a young tree when it came under the supervision of the artist.
A comparison of its back [Plate
III., Fig.2] will give an idea of how its branches have been unsparingly
bent and twisted. In this picture, the vigorous bends and twists
of the twigs will remind one of smashed and mingled coils of the spring
of a broken watch. They are, however, all original branches, and
no grafting has been effected in any way.
If we examine closely, we find
what deliberate care is taken in all these bending, twisting younger branches.
The possibility of life and health in a branch, such as will be required
to work it up, or rather conform it to an ideal, is the first principle
of this kind of art. Only by trying it can one understand and appreciate
the difficulties there are to face, for every branch has its own habitual
growth, direction, and power of growth, and, finally, the possibility of
its future; all these factors must hence be taken into consideration.
The result is not one that can be obtained immediately. This bending
operation is usually performed in summer. One of the London journals
made a remark to the effect, “the pigmy-tree business hardly holds out
prospects enough for the next generation but one, for us to invest in it,
but perhaps the Japs think differently. Just fancy, this example
of living patience in the shape of a fan or a saké bottle
being sold in London, for half a sovereign! Enough to break the maker’s
heart, isn’t it?” It seems to me that the man who wrote in this way
must have been a true incarnation of the cast of people so often called
practical
men, whose aim is to be but a stout ledger and calculating machine
in frock coat and a silk hat.
[Grafting]
In the cultivation of miniature
trees there is one very important item we must not overlook – that is the
grafting. I have said a little about it just now. We will take
a Chaba [sic] hiba as an illustration.
There are many kinds of graftings very extensively applied to cedars.
To contrive that such a mass of foliage in compact forms shall be artistic,
it is evidently necessary to adopt and add fresh shoots where required.
Trees grow in their own way, and gardeners must bring them round to their
ideas, so these means are resorted to. The general practice of side
grafting is carried out about March and April, when the new buds are soft.
First you must cut the graft in an oblique manner about one-eighth of an
inch, and then sharply cut again just a little of the outer bark; cut the
stock also at the same angle about a quarter of an inch, and take out the
free portion of bark, and then place the graft in the appointed situation;
tie it once with a soft straw, and then apply a bandage. The introduced
branch must be no more than one inch and a half in length. When the
whole operation is finished, take it into a dark room for some thirty-five
to forty days, and then put it under a straw cover in the open air for
thirty days or so. After that it may at last be exposed without covering
to the open air and sunlight. The reason for avoiding the sunlight
at first is evident. The sap should not circulate too violently when
the joint is just made, until it can be distributed with equal force into
the other part of the tree. These operations are all beyond me to
describe minutely, for it is a delicate business, and needs careful handling.
These who wish to know will only learn well after some sad experiences.
Next we shall see how the pines
are treated. The graftings and bendings here are sometimes similar
to those performed on cedars. Yet at the same time the operation
is much simpler, for, among other reasons, the growth, and naturally the
flow of sap, are much more vigorous than in the preceding examples, and
the twigs do not crowd together so much. The pines are symbols of
bravery, while the cedars correspond to the idea of what is lovable.
The methods of training, and therefore of appreciation, must in consequence
be respectively varied.
Grafting is met with less frequently
where the growth is quicker and the younger twigs can be bent in a wavy
manner. The vertical undulations are called Tatenami, and
the transversal Yokonami. When the leaves do not grow densely,
there must necessarily be some methods used to make the appearance
of the tree more compact. A zigzag line of trunk is widely adopted
in pines. The younger shoots in every alternate concave curve are
nipped away, for the simple reason that they would be hidden from the sunshine,
and the development, therefore, generally unsatisfactory. But the
existence of such shoots is desired sometimes for bringing them out in
different planes and angles. They are called Futokoro yeda,
and may be translated as “pocket branches.” The shoots on the apex
of the concave curve are cherished and nurtured.
Pines have a tendency to shoot
out a set of branches from certain points. These points are treated,
when the bending into zigzag manner is carried out, in early summer, in
such a way as to form the sharpest points in the curves. At that
time all the useless branches are cut off, and the “pocket branches” done
away with. Such, for instance, are Kannuki yeda, the “bolt
branches,” so called because two sister branches spread out from the opposite
side of the trunk at right angles on the same plane [“bar
branches”]. This growth is to be avoided unless the trainer
can see any utility later on. Other forms are the Hasigo yeda,
“ladder,” which has three or more branches forming regular steps as in
a ladder, and the Ikari yeda, “anchor,” which has three younger
shoots at equal distances and curved as in the classical form of the Japanese anchor.
The last-mentioned “anchor” form
is very often adopted at the top of the tree, or rather the younger part,
because the chances of changing the whole shape are multiplied, and the
risk of failing to realize a preconceived design is proportionately lessened.
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GOYO MATSU (PINUS PARVIFLORA)
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A typical specimen of a well-trained
pine is shown in the illustrations [sic],
Plate IV.
In pines we seldom see grafting,
but sometimes compound growth with young maples; but these are very difficult
things to manage, and fine examples are very seldom met with. Pine
and maple are also wedded together; the green, and the golden or crimson
foliages are not altogether a vulgar composition, but the arrangement of
quantity and position of colours depends on personal artistic taste, and
some of these compositions are very distasteful to an æsthetic spectator.
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Fig. 1. -- A WELL-GROWN TREE.
[Not otherwise referenced in the
article.]
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Fig. 2. -- SPECIMEN OF NEAGARI,
"ROOT-LIFTING" (GOYO MATSU:
PINUS PARVIFLORA)
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[Neagari: exposed roots]
We generally come across, whenever
we visit an exhibition of these dwarf trees, one peculiarly trained root
exposed high above the ground. It is termed Neagari; that
is, “the root uplifted.” This is the most difficult of all to appreciate.
Here the gardener’s ideal is carried to the highest and finest point.
The example [Plate V., Fig. 2] reminds one of those solitary pine trees
dotted here and there amongst the hills in Japan as landmarks for pious
pilgrims.
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Fig. 1. -- SPECIMEN OF NEAGARI, "ROOT-UPLIFTING"
(Akamatsu: Pinus Densiflora)
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The uplifted roots are the main
object in this training; they look monstrous or ornamental, whichever you
like to call them [Fig. 1]. It is a theory, sometimes, and in some
places much in favour, that things artistic must be copied within proper
limits from the products of Nature that we see and experience frequently.
But the pines with their roots so exposed form an argument against this
favourite theory. Why should not the application to Nature of a preconceived
idea equally deserve the approbation of the highest critic of art?
The pine is such by its nature, as we always see; its foliage is not clustered
in masses, but widely separate. Something was needed to fill the
blank space. Besides, Nature, if I may say so, authorizes the gardener
to dispense with some of the roots in his pot, since the fibrous or hairy
part of the roots is only required for absorbing the nourishment, while
such as are exposed above the ground serve only to ensure the upright growth
of the tree. These are obviously not required in a little pot.
[Watering and soil mix]
Lastly, we must know how to look
after these trees. When we have secured a treasure, we must take
care of it. The dwarf trees should be watered from January to about
June at midday, when a little water may be sprinkled on the leaves; from
June to August, at about two to three o’clock in the afternoon; after August,
at the same time as in the spring. However, the quantity of water
depends upon atmospheric dryness; it is very difficult to fix how many
drops should be given to each pot. The mould contained in the pot
and the nature of the tree must also be considered; for instance, conifers
require little water when in pots. It is better to use the smaller-sized
pots for pines than those that seem to be large enough, for they prefer
dry mould. In potting them, therefore, it is desirable for gravel
to be put in the bottom of the pots, to let the water run through easily;
the mould laid on the top of the gravel should not be a heavy sort, nor
be pressed down tightly. The quantity of water to be given also depends
a great deal on what sort of mould they are planted in. Generally
speaking, the evergreens do not require so much water as the deciduous
plants, which should be habitually kept in a sufficiently damp condition
to let the sap flow in a gentle manner. This last consideration is
very important, for the sap must not be overloaded with water, either when
they are pruned, grafted, or, as is specially the case with pines, handled
so unsparingly by a process generally known as “rings” – that is, the fastening
up of young shoots in a calculated twist to an older branch of the same
tree. Besides the nature of the trees, we must take account of the
local atmospheric condition. Out-of-doors the weather and temperature
vary from one season to another; indoors or under glass they do so only
to a small extent. Finally, the size, shape, and make of the pots
must be considered. It is well to bear in mind that the water, like
domestic medicine, must be carefully administered. In this country,
where so much holiday-making is in vogue, and, indeed, is considered one
of the necessary privileges of the rich, your gardener may go off on a
summer’s day to see his cousin, and find on his return your Chabo hiba
in a drooping state from want of water. He should, in such a case
as that, take this plant straight away into the shade and begin to water
it by degrees; he must satisfy the thirsty tree little by little; let him
remember the fable of “The Thirsty Pigeon,” and say, “Zeal should not outrun
discretion.” [A century later, John Naka teaches
the same care for a briefly underwatered bonsai.]
[Hardy plants]
From the foregoing statements,
you may gather that the cultivation of these dwarf trees requires constant
supervision, and can only be entrusted to competent gardeners.
The general principle of nurture
is as depicted. But every one has his own way of giving water, manure,
and sunlight, and it only shows the dwarf trees are very hardy – indeed,
hardy enough to survive almost any treatment, unless it is overdone.
So the story runs of MIDZUNO Genchusai -- a famous
author who wrote about the cultivation of dwarf trees. Seeing such
a diverse method of attending them, he once asked Ichigoro, the gardener
of HIRAGA Gennai, how he managed to prosper in his
profession. Ichigoro welcomed the author with a smile, and said,
"Why, Nature knows and does her work far better than I. If anything
is the matter with the potted trees, they are pulled out and thrown [planted]
into the grounds. I take no heed of what may follow. The frost
may freeze, the raw wind bite to the pith, yet the zephyr will one day
play her tune upon the outcast plants to recall their energy in company
with the verdant meadows and fields." The author went home and took
the advice in good part; he dismissed all the earlier part of his manuscript
containing the fruits of his experiences of long years, which he now found
to preach quite a useless exercise of anxiety. He may have been reminded
of an old proverb -- "Spare the rod, spoil the child;" at any rate, his
book, when it appeared, displayed a firm conviction that the amateurs could
do their work as well as professionals. The book is entitled "Somoku
Kinyoshu," and from it I gathered much valuable information.
[Repotting]
We must take note of a few important
points as to changing the mould in the pot, which naturally must be exhausted
after feeding the roots confined in it for some time. When the mould
is changed, the fresh nutriment in it will give a sudden impetus to absorption,
and the consequent overflow of sap causes the trees to grow out of their
beautiful shapes; so the greater part of the hairy or fibrous roots have
to be cut out. This is, plainly speaking, to avoid the melancholy
effect of indigestion. To evergreens the fresh mould is given once
in every three years; to the deciduous plants once a year. In both
cases, late spring is thought to be the best season for changing the mould.
The more sandy and lighter mould, with a little mixture of ordinary manure,
is chosen for hard-grained trees; the darker clayish mould will not meet
the requirements of such trees that are habitually given a more frequent
supply of water, as it is more evaporative.
[Some history]
Next, as to the history of dwarf
trees. Some of them are said to be of great antiquity. If so,
this quaint art of training trees must be a very old practice. The
art connoisseurs and collectors generally draw from all sources the best
and oldest works of art. But sometimes things are collected and admired
only on account of being wrought during the reign of King So-and-so; no
matter what they are. For the purpose of historical researches, the
value of an Art Museum should be in proportion to its contents, but there
is not the least doubt [!] one would prefer
paintings on the walls of Burlington House to the frescoes consecrated
to the memory of an Egyptian king of an ancient dynasty. The influence
of age upon the value of a commodity is well known to be an important element.
But true art-lovers should not fail to appreciate their intrinsic value.
I would, therefore, fain dispense with discussion as to the ages of these
dwarf trees, and only mention my authority that potted trees are said to
have been general favourites since the time of SAKAKIBARA
Juda, who introduced [sic] the cultivation
of trees in pots somewhere about the end of the Kioho and the beginning
of the Genbun (viz. in the European calendar, the beginning of the eighteenth
century). But it seems rather doubtful whether this be the true date,
when we remember that the curious tea ceremony and the peculiar style of
garden-making originated as early as the thirteenth century. The
trees in the garden of this school were very likely trained in much the
same style as we see them in pots to-day. Again, we see some pictures
of potted trees drawn by Chinese artists over two hundred years old.
Hence I regret I can offer you no more than a conjecture that the practice
of potting trees was very likely learned from China early in our history,
and has undergone some changes on Japanese soil. Later on, it appears
to me that the schools of flower arrangement in various ways have affected
the cultivation of potted trees. But how far this is so I could not
ascertain at present, principally owing to the scarcity of references at
my command, and the short time which I had to prepare this paper.
In conclusion, I should like to
add (if I may do so without exceeding the generous limits of your patience)
how these miniature trees illustrate the character of our people. It is
evident that we can enjoy and dwell upon abstractions, though the traces
of this quality seem, especially within the last few years, to be on the
wane, being displaced by the more urgent necessity of turning out dynamos
and setting up boilers or engines. But what the Japanese are in heart
is reflected in their pastimes. Recreations tend to be mental rather
than physical, and our people enjoy more or less the same reputation in
this respect as the rest of the Asiatics.
I remember having spoken, in the
introduction to this paper, of paintings, which formed an idealistic contrast
to those of the realistic school, and now, in conclusion, though it may
seem scarcely germane to the intention of this paper, I may add a few remarks
about them. To do that we must go back a while to the masters from
whom the art of painting was learned. In the Sung Dynasty of Chinese
history we first meet “poem pictures” of WANG Mo-ko.
These are very peculiar pictures by an artist who was properly called a
Transcendentalist, since he simply sought the expression of emotions and
conceptions: in every case Nature only plays a subordinate part.
They are, perhaps, too original and too independent. They who painted
them took them from the imagination and from the models which Nature supplied,
as suggestions for developing expressions. The so-called “truth”
that Ruskin delighted in is almost entirely disregarded; in fact, such
pictures are like rhymes and stanzas of the artists who paint their thoughts
instead of imprisoning them in metres and syllables. This imaginative
school is an atelier, where the pupils all study such applications of the
strokes of brushes as are thought best suited to their purposes.
It is more like a child learning how to write out his thoughts in an established
method of writing. The painting is a mere means to transfer the ideas
of one to another. Indeed, when Eastern imagination comes into play,
many an original artist records his name on the rôle of human
achievement. But it often happens that his masterpiece is thought
absolutely impossible, and put away with a sneer by his European comrades.
Still, the racial philosophical temper, which is developed to the highest
pitch, is instinctively inclined to welcome and admire him in his native
land; it is only in his own country that he is understood. So we
understand that other school of painters, who, as copyists, painted whatever
beautiful things appealed to them. They put into their pictures what
they saw. They love Nature, and try to improve on Nature in their
daring designs. These two schools have come to Japan, and are there
still.
[Bonkei]
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A MINIATURE GARDEN (BONKEI).
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In the cultivation of our miniature
trees, it seems to me that these two schools of painting come together.
Need it be mentioned here that the influence of the idealistic paintings
had a great influence upon the gardeners in forming the shapes of their
trees? Now, the gardeners in Japan are keenly sensitive to the beauties
of the trees in Nature, but at the same time they exert all their art,
whilst copying them, to try and excel Nature. And how their humour
and ingenuity succeeds in the result! The Bonkei – miniature
landscape [Plate VI.] – is the highest development [sic]
in this industry of the cultivation of dwarf trees. The idealistic
painting is indisputably the foundation of the Bonkei. Their
peaceful recreation and gentle refinement may, as is often anticipated,
vanish away before the tyranny of economical competition, which is called
modern civilization. This point I cannot here discuss. But
they have happily established in the pages of Art-history their claim to
be artistic; they may not have been either thinkers, or scholars, or travellers,
or inventors, but they were artists who cultivated such a tree. And,
though we must understand before we can admire and sympathize, I have every
confidence that the world will admire them more in proportion as it understands
them better.
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PINE AND ROCK.
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The Paper was illustrated
by lantern slides, and several interesting and beautiful specimens of the
dwarf trees were exhibited.
After the reading
of the Paper, the CHAIRMAN thanked
the Lecturer for having prepared, on short notice, so excellent and interesting
an account of dwarf trees, and said he knew he expressed the thoughts of
all present when he marvelled at the skill with which our language had
been handled by a member from Japan. He trembled at the idea of what
would happen if a British member of the Society were called upon at such
short notice to read a paper in Japanese! He then asked Mr. Osman
Edwards, M.J.S., to propose a
Vote of Thanks, which that gentleman did.
Mr. ALFRED
EAST, A.R.A., M.J.S., who seconded
the Vote of Thanks, said that the subject of the Paper had interested him
very much. He well remembered having seen those little gardens in
Japan which gave the impression of being so much larger than they were,
and he had wished to know how the effects were obtained. He came
there that evening hoping that he might perhaps learn something of the
technical processes by which the dwarfing of trees was produced.
He had heard of the grafting of the branches on the stem, and of the pruning
of the roots, but unfortunately he had never had the opportunity on the
spot of learning what he wanted to know, and he was a little disappointed
to-night that the lecturer had not gone further into that part of the subject.
Mr. East went on to say that they must not run away with the idea that
Japanese trees were all small, and he alluded to the well-known magnificent
avenue of cryptomerias at Nikko, which contained some of the largest trees
in the world.
Mr. MICHAEL
TOMKINSON, Member of Council,
supported the Vote of Thanks, and said that no adequate idea of the beauty
of dwarf trees could be got from seeing them grow in London. It was
his opinion that the great fault of English growers in the treatment of
conifers was that they gave them too much water; while as to bamboos and
deciduous trees, he thought they probably did not get as much as they required.
The motion was then
put to the meeting, and passed unanimously. 1 |
