THE FLOWER OF NOVEMBER 



JANE LESLIE KIFT 



[HE myths, symbolisms and legends that have come 

 down through the ages are always fascinating, for we 

 » all have some romance in our natures. When these 

 stories in the remotest way touch our own lives, they 

 take on a deeper meaning. There is so much that is old and 

 quaint ; so much of the land of long ago woven into the imagery 

 surrounding them. 



And so it is with the legends regarding the flowers which are 

 commonly attributed to certain months. There does not 

 seem to be much definite information regarding the origin of 

 this delightful, fancy, but, as far back as it is possible to trace, 

 the Chrysanthemum has been the accepted birth flower for those 

 of us fortunate enough to be born in November with its crisp 

 days and Scotch-plaid foliage. Much of the romance of this 

 gorgeous blossom is very old. One legend, perhaps the most 

 fascinating of all, goes back to 256 B. C. 



In the days when brave Romeos won fair maids in ways that 

 were other than modern, flowers spoke a language all their own, 

 naturally sweet to ear and heart as well. In those golden 

 days of plumed gallants and lovely maidens, a white Chrysan- 

 themum represented truthfulness, a red one meant " I love you," 

 and a yellow one beseechingly asked, " Lovest thou me a little?" 



"It was a white chrysanthemum 



I came to take away; 

 But, which are colored, which are white, 



I'm half afraid to say, 

 So thick the frost to-day!" 



So writes Mitsume, a Japanese versifier of the tenth century. 

 The flower playing so significant a part in the life of the people 

 of Japan naturally had its place in the written expression of 

 their thought and so we keep stumbling upon repeated mention 

 of it — says Rametsu: 



"Yellow chrysanthemum, white chrysanthemum: 



Why, the other names for me 

 Are of no use." 



Should you have lived in those mediaeval days and your Prince 

 Charming had, like young Lochinvar, come out of the West 

 and tossed over your balcony a red blossom and a white one, 

 would it not have thrilled? 



In the early part of the fourteenth century the Chrysan- 

 themum became the national flower of Japan. Just before its 

 ascent to popular favor, history tells of a " War of the Chrysan- 

 themum" suggestive of the "War of the Roses" in England; 

 and as this was long, long ago, when weapons were still primi- 

 tive, it lasted fifty-six years. 



One particularly delightful old Chinese legend tells the tale 

 of a king occupying the throne of China in the distant days 

 when monarchs were all saints or deep-dyed villains. This 

 particular king was cruel and naturally afraid to die. He 

 learned, we are not told how, that in an island many miles 

 east of his kingdom grew a rare plant with an unusually lovely 

 flower. This plant was known to yield the "elixir of life." 

 But, alas and alack! only the pure in heart could touch it with- 



out causing it to lose its virtue. He was debarred from attempt- 

 ing the journey. The same reason prevented his court from 

 any attempt to obtain this precious liquid. 



So he called his wise men and they spent many years trying 

 to overcome the difficulty. One old sage, like King Solomon 

 wiser than all the rest, finally solved the problem. The king, 

 acting on his suggestion, sent three hundred boys and maids 

 on a journey in quest of the island on the shores of which the 

 charmed blossom grew. These youths and maidens, being 

 pure in heart, were qualified to secure the precious juices. 



After the usual procession with garlands of Cherry blossoms 

 and paper dragons the voyagers embarked; the wise man, as a 

 physician on whom the god of health had bestowed special 

 favors, having been appointed leader. We do not know whether 

 they found the Chrysanthemum, the flower which would mean 

 perpetual life for the king and court, but we do know they never 

 returned. 



On landing, the wise man devoted his energies to setting up 

 a kingdom with himself as king. For many centuries all con- 

 tinued well on the beautiful little island, now known as Japan. 



Another delightful story refers to the lasting qualities of the 

 Chrysanthemum blossom, which to the Oriental mind is sym- 

 bolic of longevity. All along the banks of the River Kai grow 

 the Chrysanthemums: when they fade, the river, being narrow, 

 is covered with their petals. The natives at this time flock 

 to the banks and drink of the waters, believing that by so doing 

 they prolong their lives. This same idea suggests placing a 

 petal in a glass of wine when you wish a guest long life and 

 happiness — a charming bit of symbolism. Coming as this 

 flower does near the end of the year, it suggests human per- 

 fection to the Japanese as they watch its petals unfold. 



Kiku is the name by which this popular blossom is known in 

 Japan. Say it over a few times; catch the music of the name. 

 Doesn't it suggest a rare old print or a lovely bit of porcelain? 



In Dango-Zaka, the florists' quarter of Tokio, they have their 

 Annual Chrysanthemum Shows, which might almost be spoken 

 of as ceremonies, for they are the result of genuine love and 

 worship. There is no suggestion of anything commercial enter- 

 ing into the spirit of the occasion and the one penny entrance 

 fee charged means no profit. From an artistic point of view 

 the Show is a disappointment, because it is rather artificial 

 and utterly lacking the charm of the Japanese garden, where 

 the flowers are permitted to follow their own sweet way. At 

 the Show huge grotesque statues, quite deficient in the exquisite 

 detail of most Oriental art, are bedecked with clothes made 

 entirely of blossoms. (As seen in the photograph on page 134.) 



These Shows are interesting, however, when we consider the 

 reverence that enters into their preparation — the simple, 

 childlike affection bestowed on each flower that is handled. 

 Viewing them from this angle we catch their charm and some- 

 how their lack of grace fades into obscurity; we feel the fascina- 

 tion and forget the strangeness of this characteristic ceremony 

 of the Flowery Kingdom. 



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