Nagashi, the arrangement of long, streaming sprays on each side of a group, is, as approaching the symmetrical, especially to be avoided. “Window-making,” the crossing of stalks in such a manner as to give the appearance of loopholes, and “lattice-making,” where the crossing suggests lattice-work, are both grave faults, as is also any suspicion of parallelism in the main lines.

It is not sufficient either that the finished study should look well from the front. It must bear the test of examination from all points of view.

There are also distinct rules regarding the vessels employed to hold the compositions. Sometimes beautifully wrought bowls of bronze are used, sometimes vessels of wood or porcelain, sometimes a simple wicker basket.

The shallow bronze bowl is the most usual, as in it little vices of wood may be conveniently fixed across to hold together the stems, and metal crabs, dragons, tortoises, and frogs are often used to hold the cuttings in position, and at the same time form part of the design. Sometimes the vessel is made in the shape of a boat, a style said to be first inaugurated by So-ami, and since forming a class of composition by itself.

A favourite combination is a rough wooden tub used for horses to drink from and a bronze horse’s bit. Its use dates back to a time when a famous general of old, during one of the duller intervals of a campaign, employed his leisure in composing a flower study, using as vessel and vice the only articles at his disposal.

Holders of bamboo are used in various forms, as many as forty-two different methods of cutting and notching the hollow stem being recognised. Some of the names of these are delightfully expressive—such as “lion’s mouth,” “singing mouth,” “flute,” “stork’s neck,” “conch shell,” and, most imposing of all, “cascade-climbing-dragon’s form.”

The plants themselves are grouped in many grades. Seven—the chrysanthemum, the narcissus, the maple, the wisteria, and the evergreen rhodea—are of princely rank, and form a veritable aristocracy of flowers. The iris, also, is of equal rank with the foregoing, but, owing to its purple colour, must never be used at a wedding.

Then, again, within the same species, the flowers take rank according to their colour, in most cases the white bloom ranking highest. Among chrysanthemums, however, the yellow takes precedence, with the peach and cherry pale pink, and with the camellia and peony red.

Certain plants, also, must never be used, and this “Index Expurgatorius” includes all strong-smelling or poisonous plants, and a long list comprising the aster, the poppy, the orchid, the rhododendron, and many others.

Male and female attributes are also applied to plants in many ways. The front of leaves is male, the back female; red, purple, pink, or variegated flowers are male; blue, yellow, and white female. So that a flower composition in Japan, apart from its intrinsic beauty, bears a wealth of symbolic meaning.

In all important rooms there is an ornamental alcove or recess, called the toko-no-ma, with raised floor polished and lacquered, and a handsome corner pillar of rare wood. On the back wall is hung the kakemono, or in some cases a pair, or set of three, and on the dais before it, or suspended from above, is placed the flower study. In this recess are displayed, one at a time, the choicest art treasures of the house, and in front of it is the place of the honoured guest.

There is an etiquette even in looking at flower studies, and in praising them only appropriate epithets should be used, always softly expressed. White flowers are “elegant,” blue “fine,” red “charming,” yellow “splendid,” and purple “modest.”

But the greatest compliment that can be paid to a guest on such an occasion is to ask him to make an extempore arrangement himself. And here the ceremonial is delightful in its graceful formality. The host brings a tray with vase, cut blooms and sprays, scissors, knife, and a little saw. If the vessel brought be a very valuable one the guest modestly protests that he can produce nothing worthy of so fine a setting, but, on being pressed by his host, should comply with his wishes. The host then removes the kakemono, for to allow it to remain would impose upon the artist the task of designing his group in harmony with it, and with the rest of the company withdraws to an adjoining room until, the work being completed, the guest summons them, having placed the scissors beside his composition as a silent request for the correction of its faults. When his host enters he apologises for the imperfections of his work, and begs that the whole may be removed. The host in his turn assures him that in beauty it is all that could be desired, and so the delicate interchange of compliments goes on.

Not the least attractive feature of this gentle art is the evanescent nature of its charms. The painter, the sculptor, the artist in lacquer or in metal, works for posterity: hundreds of years hence his fame may be greater far than it is to-day. But the artist in flowers can hope for no such permanence in his work, its creations are verily but “the lilies of a day,” his modest task but to give sweetness and beauty to the passing hour.

A JapaneseFan.