Luis Frois: First Western Accounts of Japan's Gardens, Cities and Landscapes

277 Pages·2020·16.42 MB·English

by  Cristina Castel-Branco, Guida Carvalho

Cristina Castel-Branco
Guida Carvalho
Luis Frois:
First Western
Accounts of
Japan’s Gardens,
Cities and
Landscapes
Luis Frois: First Western Accounts of Japan’s
Gardens, Cities and Landscapes
Cristina Castel-Branco • Guida Carvalho
Luis Frois: First Western
Accounts of Japan’s
Gardens, Cities
and Landscapes
Cristina Castel-Branco Guida Carvalho
Landscape Architecture Professor; ACB Landscape Architecture Studio
Department of Natural Resources and Landscape Architect, MLA University
Landscape, School of Agronomy of Lisbon
University of Lisbon Lisbon, Portugal
Lisbon, Portugal
ISBN 978-981-15-0017-6 ISBN 978-981-15-0018-3 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0018-3
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Singapore
Father Luís Frois and Sen no Rikyū met in
Kyoto around 1580. Although their cultures
and religions were almost opposite, they
chose to listen to and learn from one another.
The former expressed his feelings and
impressions in literature, while the latter
made his mark in garden art and the
Japanese “way of tea”. Their followers,
Father Graham McDonnell at St. Francis
Xavier Cathedral, and Soshu Sen, 14th
President of Tea Ceremony, both in Kyoto,
sought to keep their ancestors’ legacy of
openness alive in the twentieth and
twentieth-first century. To the four of them,
we dedicate this book.
Foreword
Seen from Europe, the islands of Japan lie at the eastern limit of the globe; in the
United States, and even in California’s West Coast, we still refer to that part of Asia
as the Far East—although it may, in fact, be closer to us than the European conti-
nent. Even the Chinese people, who historically have referred to their land as the
Middle or Central Kingdom, termed Japan the “Land of the Rising Sun”, acknowl-
edging its position further east. Given the thousands of kilometres that separated
Europe from Japan, in the sixteenth century, the four main islands and thousands of
smaller islands that comprise today’s Japan might well have been part of another
planet. Columbus’s fateful journey in 1492, despite his misdiagnosed landing point
in Hispañola, helped popularize the perception of the Earth as a round sphere rather
than a flat plane, although others like Pedro Nunes had reached a similar conclusion
earlier on. During the Age of Discovery, landmark expeditions and circumnaviga-
tion followed suit. Portugal was to play a major role in the European “discovery” of
lands both to the west and the east; discoveries begun during the reign of Prince
Henry the Navigator (1394–1460). Vasco da Gama (1460s–1524) opened new vistas
of geography and trade with his voyage to India, rounding Cape Horn—a first for
European sailors—and arriving on the Indian subcontinent in 1498; a Portuguese
settlement, Goa, was established thereafter. Those efforts were furthered by the
Portuguese Fernão de Magalhães (Ferdinand Magellan, c.1480–1521) in his pio-
neer circumnavigation of the globe—that is to say, his ship, the Victoria, completed
the journey. Magalhães himself was killed in the Philippines, and the mission was
completed under the direction of the Spaniard Juan Sebastián Elcano (or del Cano).
With a base established in India in 1510, and knowledge that the world was indeed
round, the Portuguese pushed beyond the Asian mainland to the Far East. In 1511,
they subdued Malacca; in 1518, they constructed fortresses in Sri Lanka and
Indonesia; and in 1521, Tomé Pires arrived in Peking as the Portuguese Ambassador
to the Chinese Imperial court. From their thriving base in Macau, China, they con-
tinually expanded their commercial routes, reaching Japan in 1543.
For the Catholic kingdoms of Portugal and Spain, exploration always possessed
two instigating motives: the acquisition of riches in precious metals and other rare
commodities and the acquisition of souls for the Church. In some instances, the
vii
viii Foreword
force for exploration was religious, although the possibility for trade in commodi-
ties such as silk supported—at times financially—any efforts for religious evangeli-
zation. Having learned that Japan might provide a substantial pool of converts from
several Japanese who had accompanied the Portuguese on the return from their
initial voyage, a second expedition was mounted 6 years later. Accompanying the
sailors was the man who would later be canonized as St. Francis Xavier, who arrived
in Kagoshima, on the southern island of Kyushu on 15 August 1549. Numerous
publications have traced the rise and fall of Christianity in Japan during these early
days, and there is no need to rehearse that story in detail. In summary, however, it
could be said that the acceptance of Christianity was initially seen as a threat to
neither the Japanese religious brotherhood nor the aristocracy. Shinto, the indige-
nous belief system of Japan, involves the worship of both animistic deities and the
spirits of those who had once dwelled in human form—that is to say, one’s ances-
tors. The practice of Shinto did not proscribe the simultaneous holding of other
beliefs, however. In 522 (an estimated date), Buddhism had been introduced to
Japan; in the succeeding centuries, both religions would continue to thrive. Given
this peaceful co-existence, perhaps those in power believed that Christianity consti-
tuted no threat to the shogunate, the imperial court, or the Buddhist institution. Over
time, however, as it became clear that the missionaries were not as accepting of
indigenous religious practices as the Japanese were of Christianity, and the threat of
allegiance to the Pope and the Church of Rome increased, this benign attitude of
acceptance changed. Ultimately, Christianity in all forms was banned in 1614, with
Japanese Catholics being forced to apostatize or practise their religion underground;
the missionaries themselves were expelled, leaving the Dutch, who were restricted
to Dejima, a small island in Nagasaki Bay, as virtually the only remaining Europeans
to engage in commerce, while continuing to import Western knowledge first brought
to Japan by the Portuguese, which brings us to the observations of Japan and its
garden culture, primarily by four Portuguese Jesuits living in the Land of the Rising
Sun in the mid-sixteenth to late sixteenth century.
The four principal players in Cristina Castel-Branco and Guida Carvalho’s novel
investigation of the history of the gardens and landscapes of Japan were Luis
Almeida, who arrived in Japan in 1552, who was followed by Gaspar Vilela in 1556,
Luis Frois in 1563 and João Rodrigues in 1577. That is to say, Almeida arrived some
70 years before the ban against Christianity was enacted, a freedom which allowed
an extended stay in Japan and relatively free movement. Like the Portuguese traders
and religious who had come before them, these four Jesuits landed, and were subse-
quently based, on the southern island of Kyushu; with the support of influential
Japanese lords, they were permitted to travel in central Japan. Vilela, described cen-
turies later by a member of his Order “as strong, good-looking and of amiable man-
ners”, arrived in November 1552 and soon began efforts to erect a church. His later
protracted residence in Kyoto of almost (see pp. 42–43 in [1]) two years proved
sufficient for him to purchase a modest house and erect a simple chapel; it was prob-
ably during this time that he sampled Kyoto’s wealth of temples and commented on
their architectural features and gardens in his writings. Frois’ landing in Japan in
1563 was heartily welcomed by Vilela as this recent arrival provided him with
Foreword ix
much-needed moral and religious support for the small mission in Japan then less
than two decades old. Frois seems to have shared Vilela’s interest in all things
Japanese, including the island nation’s gardens.
In some ways, the missionaries arrived in Japan at a fortuitous if tumultuous
time, as the consolidation of the fiefs of the independent daimyo (lords) into a more
centralized government based on the Osaka plain, which included Kyoto, had been
long underway. Oda Nobunaga (1524–1582), the lord of Owari Province, nearly
succeeded in bringing the country under his control, but his efforts were cut short by
his assassination at the hands of one of his retainers. Oda Nobunaga was unusually
forward-l ooking, traversing established codes when necessary to achieve his goals.
He accepted gunpowder and firearms as advanced means necessary for victory
despite their crossing of established samurai moral codes. He is also said to have
enjoyed wine as much as any native alcoholic drink. These tendencies, whether due
to curiosity, expedience or a general quest for knowledge, suggest why Nobunaga
might have been receptive to the importation and use of foreign ideas and technol-
ogy—for their military application, if for no other reason. To him, Christianity, it
seems, was part of the package, and in all, he demonstrated considerable restraint in
allowing the promulgation of Catholic doctrine. Through his at least tacit approval—
with the support of other daimyo, some of whom had accepted Christianity—Vilela,
Almeida and Frois conducted numerous visits to the city’s Buddhist temples and
Shinto shrines, visits and their subsequent recording that are the subjects of Cristina
Castel-Branco and Guida Carvalho’s study.
This book centres on the writings of Luis Frois—principally his Historia de
Japam—which has provided us with the earliest and most comprehensive European
description of Japanese culture and its built environment. As revealed in his descrip-
tion of the religious structures and gardens he witnessed first-hand, Frois seemed to
have been unusually open-minded, less a Christian religious rendering judgement
than an anthropologist or ethnographer trying to understand, and at times even
appreciate, Japan’s “peculiar” culture and its constructions. For example, when
commenting on the 1000 Kannon (the Buddhist goddess of mercy) sculptures in the
thirteenth-century temple of Sanjusangen-do in Kyoto, he is remarkably approving
of their beauty and quality rather than denying any aesthetic appeal based on a rejec-
tion of the religion they represented. His summary judgement states: “All these
figures are gilded from head to toe with very fine gold thickly applied; the faces are
well-proportioned and beautiful […] such a large and astonishing quantity of fig-
ures represents something very noble” (see pp. 20–22 in [2]). Perhaps, it was Frois’
stay in Goa that introduced him to Indian Buddhist and Hindu art and iconography
and his subsequent appreciation of them. In this and other of his descriptions, we
rarely find any condemnations of works created by the “heathens”. Quite to the
contrary, at times, he demonstrates a true appreciation of the beauty of a building or
garden or a cultural trait such as the cleanliness of the Japanese people. “I cannot
explain all there is to tell about each garden and the houses of these monasteries”,
he confesses and in all honesty writes that “when suddenly faced with the beauty,
ingenuity and cleanliness of these houses no one may look at them for the first time
without being greatly enthralled” (see pp. 182–183 in [3]).
x Foreword
Father Gaspar Vilela shared a similar open mind about Japanese arts and their
aesthetic judgement. In describing the porch of an unidentified temple in Kyoto, for
example, he tells that it was made of “scented wooden planks kept scrupulously
clean. […]I leave many things there are to tell, he confessed, but was forced to omit
them so as to not cause boredom nor seem like an exaggeration; but [the temple
garden] was so lovely and enjoyable that it seems unlikely that there are many
places like this […] that are superior to this one” (see p. 321 in [4]). He understands
the naturalism of many of the gardens he visits, gardens which differed consider-
ably in design from the formal layouts and features common in Portuguese estates
at that time. In all, Vilela understood that the intention behind their design was to
produce the impression “as if they were nature’s work and not a human construc-
tion” (see p. 324 in [4]). Although Almeida’s, Frois’ and Vilela’s descriptions cited
by the authors say little of the dry (kare-sansui) gardens, keen observations and
evocative descriptions pepper the writings of these priests. Of their overall compo-
sition, for example, Vilela noted: “Each of the gardens is different from one another,
and each one of them has something new in relation to the others, in accordance to
its own taste”.
While those Portuguese visiting Japan’s gardens at that time might have expected
parterres, clipped hedges, basins and fountains in abundance, the friars encountered
gardens whose stones and gravel were often their principal elements. “These gar-
dens have a big diversity of stones”, Vilela recorded, “some are white, some are
black, and some are greenish blue. They are not very big, but small and well-
positioned between moss and greenery”. Commentary on vegetation also appears in
the writings, and from them, Castel-Branco and Carvalho provide a new perspective
on the role of plants and flowers in the Japanese gardens of the sixteenth century.
“There are some small and twisted cypresses inserted in these stones, and also some
small trees laden with flowers”. At that time, at least according to Frois, flowers and
flowering shrubs played a larger part in the making of gardens than we might think.
Today, flowers appear only to a limited degree within enclosed temple gardens, and
even the azalea, a staple of the Japanese palette, has the majority of its blooms
plucked by its gardeners to avoid being judged as too garish. The tsukubai, or stone
often set adjacent to the veranda that serves as a water basin, was also new to the
foreign visitors. “They have fountains and spouts, which are done with such artifice
that the water seems to come out of the same stones” (see p. 324 in [4]).
No doubt a dry garden like Ryoan-ji (of which there is no record, although Frois
describes the temple’s pond) would probably have stymied the comprehension of
the Portuguese religious as its form completely confronted their received ideas
about what a garden should be—especially the reliance on stones and gravel as the
garden’s prime materials. Still, the recorded observation (probably of the entry to
Daisen-in, one of the sub-temples of Daitoku-ji) lacked any hint of condemnation.
Alongside this corridor is a garden visible only after entering the veranda. It has nothing to
see but some little mountains made by hand. They are made of stone [probably gravel]
which is brought from afar, purposefully selected for this purpose. Over this collection of
stones, [there were] countless small trees, paths, and bridges, […] through which the stones
Foreword xi
are reached. The ground was in part of extremely white coarse sand and in part of black
gravel. From it rose several rough stones between one- and-a-half and two covados high.1
Almeida, Vilela and Frois displayed a genuine interest in plants, perhaps not unusual
given the scientific interests of many of the Jesuit missionaries posted abroad.
Indeed, Castel-Branco and Carvalho tell that by the early seventeenth century,
Japanese plants, mostly plants of the Camellia family, had already been introduced
into Portugal; conversely, the Portuguese had introduced to Japan the grape, the
quince and the fig. Frois noted that in one garden “there were many roses and flow-
ers, appropriate to the seasons”, their selection intended to “insure that some species
would be in bloom year round” (see p. 183 in [3]). Colour also seems to have been
of greater concern to Japanese garden-makers than we normally believe, but our
contemporary opinions are based primarily on the reduction that characterizes so
many of the existing dry gardens. The friars also expressed an interest in pruning
techniques and the shearing of shrubs into ornamental forms, “some green pines and
other trees”, remarked Vilela, had their “crown[s] shaped by hand”; these accompa-
nied “garden beds and ornaments that no doubt gladden the eyes of those who see
them” (see p. 324 in [4]). While serious about his religious vocation, it is obvious
that devotion did not prevent Vilela from appreciating the lighter side of garden
design. His mention of sheared plant forms, as Castel-Branco and Carvalho write,
indicates that the shaped forms of topiary (karikomi in Japanese) had been intro-
duced to the garden almost a century before the Edo-period date we normally assign
to its appropriation and development. (See p. 369 in [6].)
Among the interesting observations this book’s authors have uncovered is that
meat and fish were prohibited within the precincts of gardens such as Kinkaku-ji,
their being regarded as “filthy things that contaminate [the] place” (see pp. 29–30 in
[2]). This belief was so strongly held that guards were positioned to prevent the
entrance of these banned foodstuffs. We also learn that the highest of the three floors
of the Golden Pavilion at today’s Kinkaku-ji was entirely gilded, an observation that
contradicts the accepted lore that until the pavilion’s reconstruction after a fire in the
1950s, only the ceiling of the upper floor had been gilded—and that the pavilion’s
name was more metaphorical than a literal description of its surfaces. As noted
above, the abundance of flowering plants inside some gardens is also surprising as
reduction and absence are usually considered the hallmarks of the Japanese aes-
thetic tradition.
In their writing, the authors skilfully integrate the observations of Gaspar Vilela
and Luis Frois with the history, contemporary descriptions and discussions of the 17
gardens in Kyoto and the six gardens in Nara about which Frois reported. Their text
flashes back to historical conditions and integrates them with factual information
about the garden’s history and the authors’ own interpretations. It is a skilful bit of
storytelling, and like a historical novel enfolds chronicle and narrative, although in
the end this book is without question a scholarly work of today. Those of us involved
with landscape history in the English-speaking world are indebted to Cristina
1 Castel-Branco explains that the côvado is an old Portuguese unit of length equivalent to 66 cm [5].