THE ORNAMENTAL CHERRIES OF JAPAN. 



FESTIVITIES OF THE CHERRY 



HE MERE mention of the word 

 cherry calls up vivid pictures of 

 the luscious, long- stemmed, 

 juicy fruit, which from child- 

 hood has been a favorite with 

 most of us. And when we speak 

 of planting or cultivating the 

 cherry tree, we have the same 

 luscious fruit in mind as the ultimate reward of our 

 efforts. The utilitarian idea lies uppermost in 

 thoughts of the cherry. The tree and the fruit stand 

 in the relation to each other of cause and effect. 



It may therefore surprise the practical American to 

 learn that the Japanese plant cherry trees very exten- 

 sively, and yet never gather a cherry. Their trees bear 

 no fruit ; they plant them for their flowers, and for them 

 only. With our firmly-rooted idea of the function of a 

 cherry tree, it may not be easy to prove that their trees 

 are worthy of our attention ; and yet I venture on the 

 task in the hope of gaining a few converts. I should 

 not despair of success if it were possible to impart to the 

 reader a realization of a tithe of the charm of the cherry 

 flower season in Japan, and of the enthusiastic admira- 

 tion which the tree then inspires. All classes of society, 

 from the emperor to the coolie, rich and poor, old and 

 young, all are enthusiastic admirers of the cherry flow- 

 ers. The trees are planted in groups in the parks, in 

 temple groves, in avenues, lining many of the principal 

 streets and roads, singly and in clusters in the gardens 

 and yards about dwellings ; they are dwarfed and grown 

 in pots of all sizes, and trained in many forms and with 

 pendulous branches ; they are favorite objects with 

 artists for conventional representation in paint, in lac- 

 quer, in metal — everywhere, both in nature and art, one 

 finds unmistakable evidence of the innate love which the 

 people have for this flower. The trees bloom during the 

 balmy month of April, when the raw and chilly winds 

 of winter have given place to the warmth and calm of 

 cheery spring, and all nature leaps into renewed life. 



Invited by the irresistible charms of nature, the people 

 collect in gayly dressed throngs under the pink clouds 

 of cherry blossoms, and there abandon themselves to 

 jest and merry making. In Tokio, Ueno Park and the 

 street called Mokojima are especially renowned for the 

 charm of their cherry blossoms, and on pleasant days 

 these places are visited by tens of thousands of people, 

 who have banished care and are bent solely on enjoy- 

 ment, and they form, perhaps, the happiest collec- 

 tion of humanity that the world ever sees. It is a motley 

 but always good-natured and orderly throng. The grave 

 savant, the spectacled student, the flushed and prosper- 



SEASON IN THE ISLAND EMPIRE. 



ous merchant, the careworn poor, the decorous matron, 

 giggling maidens and hilarious children — all are there, 

 with laughing faces and in holiday attire. Mokojima is 

 particularly a favorite resort. It is a long but rather 

 narrow street, which borders the river Sumida. It is 

 thickly lined with cherry trees, and when they are in 

 bloom, numerous small and temporary refreshment 

 stands are put up on the land side, in which the pleasure 

 seekers stop to rest and smoke, sip tea, eat sweetmeats, 

 drink sake (rice wine), and watch the surging mass of 

 humanity moving by, under the slowly swaying clouds 

 of bloom. No pen can do justice to the scene. To be 

 fully realized, it must be seen. 



The cherry blossoms also usher in a series of private 

 festivals, which ministers of state and the mighty in the 

 land who glory in the possession of cherry groves give 

 to their friends. Even his Imperial Majesty, the mikado, 

 called by his subjects O'Tenshi, the son of heaven, is af- 

 fected by the general impulse the blossoms impart, and 

 issues a mandate to the effect that on a certain day, if it 

 does not rain, he and the empress will give a cherry- 

 blossom festival in one of the imperial parks. Large, 

 handsome cards inviting the guests are issued several 

 days beforehand. The guests comprise all high officials 

 of the government down to a certain rank, the corps 

 diplomatique , foreign employees of the government at 

 the capital who receive a salary of 300 yen or more per 

 month, high officers of the army and navy, and repre- 

 sentative officers of foreign war vessels, which happen 

 to be in the Yokohama harbor. The writer had the 

 honor of attending three of these parties, and can there- 

 fore speak from personal observation. Usually a similar 

 party is given in the fall when the chrysanthemums are 

 in flower. In each case the ceremony is the same. At 

 the appointed hour the guests collect in some pleasant 

 place, not far from the entrance, the foreign represen- 

 tatives and high officials on the right side of the walk 

 and the remainder on the left side. Presently bands, 

 stationed about in the park, strike up the national anthem 

 with which the emperor is always greeted. Dressed in 

 military uniform and followed by only a few attendents, 

 the emperor passes between the two groups of waiting 

 guests, stopping, however, to shake hands with the for- 

 eign ministers, and he is followed at an appropriate dis- 

 tance by the empress and a bevy of court ladies. When 

 the royal hosts have passed, the guests follow, and to 

 the sounds of music alternately caught up by the bands, 

 stroll through blossom-shaded paths, over wistaria cano- 

 pied bridges, by swelling mounds studded with brilliant 

 maples, until finally a flower-decked pavillion is reached. 

 Here a long table is spread with a truly royal collation. 

 Their majesties and excellencies are seated at the upper 



