shapes. ‘There,’ he said, ‘is an emblem of the Japanese nation under the Bakufu (Shogunate). That is what Chinese learning did for us.’ ”
But, luckily for the lover of Nature, as well as for the lover of this nation, these artificialities, these conventions, could not permanently hold the affection and respect of the people. As they threw off the yoke of the Regents, so they cast from them the slavish imitations of Chinese literary forms, arts, and crafts, and allowed the native genius to assert itself. From the beginning, we are told, in order to keep up the standard of landscape gardening, a bad design was considered unlucky, and the minds of sages, artists, and philosophers combined not only to prevent any decline in the science, but even to improve it and enlarge its scope.
I add another quotation, from a quaint and delightful book which has just come to me from the Kyoto Commercial Museum—the Official Guide:—
“ ‘The growth of the gardens shows the prosperity of Rakuyo, while their lack speaks of her decline,’ observed a Chinese writer in speaking of the relation that the art of gardening bore to Rakuyo, an ancient Chinese metropolis. ‘And Rakuyo is the best barometer registering the state of affairs in the country. Her rise means peace and happiness in the nation, while
