498 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
[ December 4, 189(7. 
THE CHRYSANTHEMUM IN ART. 
By Mr. G. C. HAITE, F.L.S., Bedford Park, W. 
It has very properly been thought that so important a celebration 
as the centenary of the introduction of the Chrysanthemum would be 
incomplete without some reference to its position in the art expression 
of the country whence it came, a country remarkable for many 
qualities, but chiefly for the charm of its decorative arts and skilled 
handiwork ; and would also be incomplete without some recognition of 
its introduction in the ornament of our own manufactures. Although 
the introduction of the flower may be considered recent, it has of late 
years become a favourite and prominent motif v ?ith our art workers ; so 
much so that it must of necessity be associated with the great art 
revival of the latter part of the Victorian era. 
The Committee of the National Chrysanthemum Society in asking 
me, as a practical worker in applied ornament, to talk to you on this 
phase of a most fascinating subject, paid me a great compliment, and, 
as the task was by no means an uncongenial one, I ventured to accept 
the honour, and shall endeavour to keep the few remarks I propose 
making as comprehensive and clear as the time at my disposal will 
allow. I need, therefore, offer no apology for the subject of my address 
or for its introduction here ; I can only regret that it was not under¬ 
taken by someone more competent than myself. 
It must be clearly understood that my remarks upon the art aspect 
and adaptation of the Chrysanthemum will be confined exclusively to 
that branch of art known as the applied or decorative ; inasmuch as the 
selection of this flower for purposes of imitative painting can offer little, 
if any, food for reflection, seeing that its beauty and variety of form— 
combined with its richness of colour, would alone be sufficient to recom¬ 
mend it for such purposes. But a flower, or growth, must possess some¬ 
thing more than an abstract beauty to take a foremost place in the orna¬ 
ment and history of a people. A flower may be beautiful in itself, and 
lack the qualities necessary for the purposes of applied art. As an 
example of this we may take the cultivated Rose, beautiful enough to 
satisfy the most fastidious taste, and absolutely unequalled in its exqui¬ 
site colour, range, and subtleness of perfume, and yet can we call to mind 
a single instance in which it has been successfully treated as a decorative 
motif ? On the contrary, it is painful to reflect that the only claim it 
could possibly advance to artistic utility—save the mark ! would be its 
frequent recurrence in the crochet and wool-worked table-mats and 
antimacassars of the last generation ; now, let us hope things, I had 
almost said sins, of the past. The Rose will, of necessity, be associated 
with the darkest age in the art history of this country. Again, the Dahlia 
has been developed and cultivated to its full pitch of perfection, possibly, 
but has left no record, at least of a creditable kind, upon our every-day 
art. . The Tulip was at one period more than popular. It became a 
fashionable craze —in some cases almost criminal in its consequences— 
riding foremost in the gilded chariot of fashion, and yet, as regards the 
influence upon taste and art, we meet with it chiefly in gaudy chintzes 
or abominable specimens of naturalistic wood-carving. 
1 might give further instances of a like nature, but these will suffice 
to justify the assertion that a flower may be beautiful in itself, but yet 
totally unfit for the purposes of applied art. Something more than 
culture and development, something more than the caprice of fashion, 
something more even than abstract beauty, gratifying though it be to 
sight and smell, is necessary for a growth to be exalted and to live for 
all time as a characteristic feature in a nation’s ornament. The Lotus, 
the Iris, the Tudor Rose, the Ivy, and the Chrysanthemum not least, 
illustrate and prove this. Without prejudice I think I am justified in 
saying that in only too many instances, although the selection of a 
plant for cultivation has resulted in finer flower heads and more 
luxuriant growth to the gain of our gardens—all this has only been 
obtained by the elimination of those very points and characteristics 
which made it acceptable to the artistic eye, and possible artistic 
adaptation. But this has not been so in the culture and wonderful 
development of the Chrysanthemum. Never, perhaps, in the history of 
the world—certainly there is no parallel in our own memories—has art 
been so indebted to the florist as she is to-day for the development of 
this wonderful flower. 
It must be confessed that the florists and chief growers possessed, 
and it is said still possess, a strong predilection for the type known as 
*’ incurved.” That is a form which, viewing the flower from its artistic 
aspect, does not commend itself to artists, while the definition of its 
ball-like form restricts its use. But to their credit be it said the growers 
have been equally devoted and enthusiastic in their culture of the 
reflexed, the Anemone-flowered, the Pompon, and, as they are c-dled, the 
dishevelled Japanese varieties. The last is the dearest to the artistic 
nature, and is evidently alike the favourite of the ornamentist at home 
and in far Japan. 
As I shall have occasion to use the words conventional and con¬ 
ventionalism somewhat frequently, this may be a not altogether 
unfitting opportunity to attempt some clear definition of this much- 
abused, because misunderstood, term. To many, not only of the general 
public,, but also to our art workers, it is understood to simply mean the 
flattening out of an object. South Kensington is supposed to have 
originated and propagated this idea. Certainly the development is 
responsible for a multitude of drawings in which this definition has 
been practically shown. It may also claim the honour of instituting 
the. exact turnover, and the sub-division of the circle, the result of 
which is a lifeless and irritating repetition of aimless form, conventional 
indeed, but not in the sense desired. This convenient word is, moreover, 
relied upon by many as an excuse for want of truth, consequent upon 
superficial observation. As I understand the real meaning of the word, 
conventionalism is the principle of selection, the discerning and adapt¬ 
ing of the most salient characteristics of a flower, so that in the best 
conventionalised ornament the growth may never be an outrage upon 
Nature, but rather a clearer delineation of the same. This playful 
rendering of a spray of Chrysanthemums is designed to suggest a 
stork on the wing, and demonstrates how possible it is to realise the true 
growth and characteristics of Nature for a definite purpose, and further 
that conventional treatment does not necessarily restrict invention or 
fancy. The effect is so natural that we can discern but little difference 
at the first glance from a drawing of the actual bird. Indeed, we can 
quite imagine a spray of the flower growing by a freak of Nature in 
this manner. I am aware that this question of Nature in art is but a 
small factor, inasmuch as a growth may be conventionalised, as in much 
of the Chinese work, beyond recognition. Yet it by no means follows 
that it is not a good ornament, and fit for the purpose, but it at least 
lacks that interest which association always gives, and therefore I take 
it there is a distinct loss. But for a plant that is to appeal to as such 
to be delineated false in growth, and excused on the plea of conven¬ 
tionalism, is nothing less than an outrage on the principles of art and 
our common sense. 
It is important to observe that the flower and foliage growths have 
stamped a nation’s ornament with individuality and character for all 
time, are invariably conventional in treatment. We have no instance 
of a naturalistic treatment possessed of sufficient vitality to lire, much 
less to form a vowel in the grammar of decorative art. The Lotus of 
Egypt in its conventional rendering alone would serve to prove the high 
civilisation and antiquity of Egypt, and to this day it stands the finest 
instance of conventionalism known, and yet in noway does it outrage 
true growth. The Lily of France, in its conventional treatment, is 
destined to immortality as the Fleur de Lis, is a rendering of the Iris, 
while the selection and use of the Tudor Rose of England stamps the 
best period of our own art, although it existed in its adopted form long 
before that date. And with the true instincts of an artistic people, we 
find the Chrysanthemum is rendered by the Japanese more or less con¬ 
ventionally, according to the purpose or material for which it is selected. 
Everyone knows that the Chrysanthemum is the imperial badge of 
Japan, but it may not be generally known that it shares this honour 
with the Paulowniaimperialis, a growth equally capable of conventional 
expression and recalling in its form our purple Foxglove. 
We find the simplest expression and severest form of the Chrysanthe¬ 
mum—as we might expect—in its adaptation to heraldry, as the imperial 
badge, in which it is shown as a simple rosette or Daisy composed of 
sixteen petals. Even in the later adaptation of the flower for postage 
stamps this simple and severe form was adopted. We may rest assured 
that its selection for this important function was not mere haphazard-, 
prompted by personal caprice, or even srme incident connected with the 
flower, but rather because it had within itself possibilities of a simple 
and satisfactory conventional treatment. The conventional rendering 
of an object is not due to either tradition or what is called taste, it but is 
the outcome of necessity, and simply means that the material to be 
decorated delineated the motif and method of treatment. Returning to 
its use as a badge. The reason for this simple expression is at once 
apparent first, that it might be clearly seen, and from a distance, with¬ 
out possibility of confusion, and equally important that it might be 
capable of execution upon and in every kind of material. Hence we 
see it in^the hardest alloy for weapons and armour ; carved in metal and 
crystal ;* beaten in high and low relief in brass : carved in wood and 
ivory ; woven in fabric of dress and banner, and raised in lacquer, simple 
but unmistakeable. But apart from being the badge of the Royal House of 
Japan, the flower is evidently dear to the people for its beauty alone. It 
appeals to them in its general adaptability for the ornamentation of their 
domestic surroundings, while it is by no means uncommon, I gather 
from one of those delightful letters from Sir Edwin Arnold, which 
appear from time to time, to find the Japs naming their daughters after 
these favourite flowers, O-Kiku-Sau, the Hon. Miss Chrysanthemum, in 
much the same way that we call our girls Rose, Violet, Lily, &c. 
The Chrysanthemum is the leading, if not the most characteristic, 
feature in the ornament of this nation, who have taught us so much, 
and who are destined to still further revolutionise many of the ideas 
connected with applied ornament of the Western world—a nation whose 
history is so interwoven with the adaptation of this beautiful flower 
that I venture to say Japan is better known to the multitude to-day by 
the flower of her choice than by her civilisation of thousands of years, 
or by the character and history of her patient and talented people. As- 
I have before said, we find it used in every imaginable way, from the 
severest possible form, as shown in the Imperial Badge, to the natu¬ 
ralistic paintings on silk or paper or the fanciful expression of form. 
It would be nothing short of a calamity to lose the varied expression of 
this flower, whilr it wmuld be difficult to imagine the art of Japan 
without it. It stamps the native work with individuality, and in con¬ 
junction with the Bamboo serves to typify this art. 
It is not possible to more than briefly allude to the extensive use 
made of the flower by designers and ornamentists in our own decorations 
and manufactures. Attention should be directed to the matter, inas¬ 
much as I am compelled to admit that the flower is often either mis¬ 
applied or adapted without sufficient simplification. As pointed out. 
Nature has done much of the designer’s work, and we are too apt to rely 
upon this fact, utilising the flower as it is, instead of making it con¬ 
sistent with our requirements. As an instance, we not infrequently see 
in repousse, pointed-petaded blossoms, selected for high relief and 
