forget that the most important thing about a bonsai is its beauty. Many people do not realize that the creation of bonsai is, for Japan, a comparatively new art. A good deal of confusion comes from the fact that certain trees are said to be six or eight hundred years old, and Western people assume that the practice of dwarfing is older than that. This is not the case. These very old trees have probably been entitled to the name of bonsai for less than half that time, although their age is fully documented. The Japanese have always loved miniature things, and since very early times naturally stunted trees have been collected and treasured. But these are not bonsai; they are classified by the Japanese as "potted trees" to indicate that there has been no attempt to improve on nature. The oldest existing bonsai started in this way.
The early history of bonsai is a subject of some dispute and is not important for the- purposes of this book. Certainly by the early years of the Meiji era (1868-1912) the art had become quite well established in its present form. And it was probably during the late sixteenth century, at the close of the Muromachi period (which might be described as Japanese Rococo), that the idea of artificially improving,the shape of potted trees came into existence. At first it was merely a question of training these trees so as to compensate for natural defects, and it may be noted that to this day the most treasured bonsai are still those which are naturally stunted. Potted trees were to be found only in the houses of wealthy nobles, who could afford to pay the price for a thing so rare. But as the idea of improving on nature took hold, gardeners began to realize that it would be possible to create artificial dwarfs from seed or cuttings. These could be produced in quantity and were often as beautiful as the older trees, with a naturalness outrivaling nature, a factor which the taste of the period found particularly appealing. Moreover, there was a new and inexhaustible market for bonsai among the wealthy and cultivated merchant class, then beginning to rival the aristocracy as a patron of the arts.
Thus bonsai came into being. Their creation remains one of the cherished arts of Japan, and the care and patience which go into the making of one miniature tree is infinite. Of course, not all bonsai are exhibition pieces. We have laid some stress on the time and trouble required to create a fully matured tree, but again we emphasize that this should not discourage the novice from trying his hand. It is true that there are no short cuts to perfection, and bonsai growers generally think in terms of months and years instead of days and weeks. But, although to the connoisseur only a fully trained tree is worthy of note, that does not mean that to the grower, and particularly to the amateur grower, the tree is not both beautiful and exciting from its early stages. The very fact that it exists at all, that it puts out leaves and behaves like an ordinary tree, is a wonder in itself. And there are many bonsai of real beauty which have been in training for only three years, or even less.
Not all trees are equally slow in growing, and trees which begin as cuttings or layerings-or, faster yet, as a small and untrained but promising potted tree such as can be discovered at any nursery-have a good start over trees grown from seed. The willow is a particularly good subject for a beginner as a willow cutting takes very easily and is extremely hardy. It grows fast and training can begin as soon as shoots develop-within a month or two of planting the cutting. In two or three years the willow will be a fair-sized tree with graceful drooping branches and can be used very effectively in rock plantings, where it can be made to hang over a miniature pool.
Even if the young tree must stay in its training pot for some years, it has all sorts of charms-some perhaps visible only to the eye of its creator. A tree that is five years old and has still not outgrown its three-inch pot is a triumph. Its shape may not be remarkable, but that will come. The tiny lilac tree grown from a cutting taken ten years ago and now covered with minute clusters of flowers is as much a treasure as the splendid two-hundred-year-old pine whose branches spread so gracefully.
After all, the pine was once a seedling, one among many. It grew into a gawky little sapling, and its tender branches were first persuaded to follow the line which would lend it most beauty when a full-grown tree. For years it received un- ceasing care. Perhaps the first owner never lived to see the completion of his work. His son may have watched the tree develop into a handsome bonsai, worthy of a fine pot. But it is his grandsons and great-grandsons who inherit the full benefit of all this thought and labor and continue the work, pruning the old tree, wiring wayward twigs, watching for signs of disease, and above all enjoying its beauty.
The miniature "Japanese garden" with tiny houses, bridges, people, animals, and the like, which is often seen in the West, is regarded by the Japanese bonsai lover as a rather vulgar object. But the tiny landscapes formed of group plantings and rock plantings belong to quite another category. They have the advantage of making use of young trees and dwarf shrubs which can be easily obtained from a nursery, if they are not available in the reader's own garden, and may be shown with pride within a week or two of their completion. The pleasure of arranging one of these group plantings is enormous. Japanese tend to prefer groups all of one species, but Western people often like to make a "mixed wood" like their groves at home. The little landscape can have a rocky cliff hanging over it or a grotto made from a hollow stone. It can be provided with a "river" of sand or made in the form of a gentle mossy slope which looks like a heath in Lilliput. On the practical side, these arrangements make excellent table centers and, if they consist of evergreens, go far to solve the winter flower problem. The same may be said of rock plantings, in which the pleasure of creating a miniature landscape is enhanced by the search for an interesting stone to build it on.
The bonsai owner finds that his trees ' become part of the family; he has a tendency to gravitate toward them at any spare moment of the day, just to make sure that all is well. Each one has its moment of glory, when it is the favorite child. The plum, quince, and apple follow each other in the spring; the deciduous trees are brilliantly green in early summer; in autumn the maples turn red, gold, and orange; and in winter there is the rich,. dark color of the pines. And even though the maples and the fruit trees stand bare and leafless through the winter months, their owner can still take pleasure not only in the delicate tracery of their branches, but in the strong buds on every twig. Spring never seems far away with these reminders.
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PROPAGATION |
BONSAI ARE ORDINARY TREES which, whether naturally or artificially dwarfed, have been trained in pots to grow into naturally beautiful shapes. It is important to bear this in mind, for the chief beauty of the bonsai is its form, and even when that form is fantastic it still must not be grotesque. Anyone studying the photographs in this book will understand this. Even the strange "cascade" trees, which grow down over the edge of the pot instead of upwards, should look like trees clinging to a ledge of rock above a precipice; and the type known as the "literati's tree"-so called from its resemblance to the trees seen in paintings by the scholar-artists of the Southern school of Chinese art-should not be distorted more than nature will at times distort. Above all, the bonsai should never be trained into a shape that does not naturally become its species; it should remain a forest tree, seen through the wrong end of a telescope. This training is the antithesis of topiary work, which at one time was almost as great a passion in England as bonsai are in Japan. Bonsai art aims at creating artificially perfect trees, while topiary art aims at amazing by the ingenuity with which trees can be made to look like anything but themselves. Yet there is a similarity between the two, for without constant care the products of neither would reach and retain perfection.
Because a bonsai is a forest tree it takes as long to come to maturity as it would if it were growing in a wood. It has the same span of life, except that, since it is cared for and protected, it may well outlive an ordinary tree, sometimes achieving a very great age indeed. Evergreens such as pines, cryptomeria, or cypresses reach maturity more slowly than most deciduous
