the soul of the far east-第14部分

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es　of　a　face！　From　the　tiles　of　its　terrace　to　the　encrusted　gables　that　drape　it　as　with　some　rich　bejewelled　mantle　falling　about　it　in　the　most　graceful　of　folds；　it　is　the　very　eastern　princess　of　a　building　standing　in　the　majesty　of　her　court　to　give　you　audience。

A　pebbly　path；　a　low　flight　of　stone　steps；　a　pause　to　leave　your　shoes　without　the　sill；　and　you　tread　in　the　twilight　of　reverence　upon　the　moss…like　mats　within。　　The　richness　of　its　outer　ornament；　so　impressive　at　first；　is；　you　discover；　but　prelude　to　the　lavish　luxury　of　its　interior。　　Lacquer；　bronze；　pigments；　deck　its　ceiling　and　its　sides　in　such　profusion　that　it　seems　to　you　as　if　art　had　expanded；　in　the　congenial　atmosphere；　into　a　tropical　luxuriance　of　decoration；　and　grew　here　as　naturally　on　temples　as　in　the　jungle　creepers　do　on　trees。　　Yet　all　is　but　setting　to　what　the　place　contains；　objects　of　bigotry　and　virtue　that　appeal　to　the　artistic　as　much　as　to　the　religious　instincts　of　the　devout。　　More　sacred　still　are　the　things　treasured　in　the　sanctum　of　the　priests。　　There　you　will　find　gems　of　art　for　whose　sake　only　the　most　abnormal　impersonality　can　prevent　you　from　breaking　the　tenth　commandment。　Of　the　value　set　upon　them　you　can　form　a　distant　approximation　from　the　exceeding　richness　and　the　amazing　number　of　the　silk　cloths　and　lacquered　boxes　in　which　they　are　so　religiously　kept。　　As　you　gaze　thus；　amid　the　soul…satisfying　repose　of　the　spot；　at　some　masterpiece　from　the　brush　of　Motonobu；　you　find　yourself　wondering；　in　a　fanciful　sort　of　way；　whether　Buddhist　contemplation　is　not　after　all　only　another　name　for　the　contemplation　of　the　beautiful；　since　devotees　to　the　one　are　ex　officio　such　votaries　of　the　other。

Dissimilar　as　are　these　two　glimpses　of　Japanese　existence；　in　one　point　the　bustling　street　and　the　hushed　temple　are　alike；in　the　nameless　grace　that　beautifies　both。

This　spirit　is　even　more　remarkable　for　its　all…pervasiveness　than　for　its　inherent　excellence。　　Both　objectively　and　subjectively　its　catholicity　is　remarkable。　　It　imbues　everything；　and　affects　everybody。　　So　universally　is　it　applied　to　the　daily　affairs　of　life　that　there　may　be　said　to　be　no　mechanical　arts　in　Japan　simply　because　all　such　have　been　raised　to　the　position　of　fine　arts。　　The　lowest　artisan　is　essentially　an　artist。　　Modern　French　nomenclature　on　the　subject；　in　spite　of　the　satire　to　which　the　more　prosaic　Anglo…Saxon　has　subjected　it；　is　peculiarly　applicable　there。　To　call　a　Japanese　cook；　for　instance；　an　artist　would　be　but　the　barest　acknowledgment　of　fact；　for　Japanese　food　is　far　more　beautiful　to　look　at　than　agreeable　to　eat；　while　Tokio　tailors　are　certainly　masters　of　drapery；　if　they　are　sublimely　oblivious　to　the　natural　modelings　of　the　male　or　female　form。

On　the　other　hand；　art　is　sown；　like　the　use　of　tobacco；　broadcast　among　the　people。　　It　is　the　birthright　of　the　Far　East；　the　talent　it　never　hides。　　Throughout　the　length　and　breadth　of　the　land；　and　from　the　highest　prince　to　the　humblest　peasant；　art　reigns　supreme。

Now　such　a　prevalence　of　artistic　feeling　implies　of　itself　impersonality　in　the　people。　　At　first　sight　it　might　seem　as　if　science　did　the　same；　and　that　in　this　respect　the　one　hemisphere　offset　the　other；　and　that　consequently　both　should　be　equally　impersonal。　　But　in　the　first　place；　our　masses　are　not　imbued　with　the　scientific　spirit；　as　theirs　are　with　artistic　sensibility。　Who　would　expect　of　a　mason　an　impersonal　interest　in　the　principles　of　the　arch；　or　of　a　plumber　a　non…financial　devotion　to　hydraulics？　Certainly　one　would　be　wrong　in　crediting　the　masses　in　general　or　European　waiters　in　particular　with　much　abstract　love　of　mathematics；　for　example。　　In　the　second　place；　there　is　an　essential　difference　in　the　attitude　of　the　two　subjects　upon　personality。　Emotionally；　science　appeals　to　nobody；　art　to　everybody。　　Now　the　emotions　constitute　the　larger　part　of　that　complex　bundle　of　ideas　which　we　know　as　self。　　A　thought　which　is　not　tinged　to　some　extent　with　feeling　is　not　only　not　personal；　properly　speaking；　it　is　not　even　distinctively　human；　but　cosmical。　　In　its　lofty　superiority　to　man；　science　is　unpersonal　rather　than　impersonal。　　Art；　on　the　other　hand；　is　a　familiar　spirit。　　Through　the　windows　of　the　senses　she　finds　her　way　into　the　very　soul　of　man；　and　makes　for　herself　a　home　there。　But　it　is　to　his　humanity；　not　to　his　individuality；　that　she　whispers；　for　she　speaks　in　that　universal　tongue　which　all　can　understand。

Examples　are　not　wanting　to　substantiate　theory。　　It　is　no　mere　coincidence　that　the　two　most　impersonal　nations　of　Europe　and　Asia　respectively；　the　French　and　the　Japanese；　are　at　the　same　time　the　most　artistic。　　Even　politeness；　which；　as　we　have　seen；　distinguishes　both；　is　itself　but　a　form　of　art；the　social　art　of　living　agreeably　with　one's　fellows。

This　impersonality　comes　out　with　all　the　more　prominence　when　we　pass　from　the　consideration　of　art　in　itself　to　the　spirit　which　actuates　that　art；　and　especially　when　we　compare　their　spirit　with　our　own。　　The　mainsprings　of　Far　Eastern　art　may　be　said　to　be　three：　Nature；　Religion；　and　Humor。　　Incongruous　collection　that　they　are；　all　three　witness　to　the　same　trait。　　For　the　first　typifies　concrete　impersonality；　the　second　abstract　impersonality；　while　the　province　of　the　last　is　to　ridicule　personality　generally。　　Of　the　trio　the　first　is　altogether　the　most　important。　　Indeed；　to　a　Far　Oriental；　so　fundamental　a　part　of　himself　is　his　love　of　Nature　that　before　we　view　its　mirrored　image　it　will　be　well　to　look　the　emotion　itself　in　the　face。　　The　Far　Oriental　lives　in　a　long　day…dream　of　beauty。　　He　muses　rather　than　reasons；　and　all　musing；　so　the　word　itself　confesses；　springs　from　the　inspiration　of　a　Muse。　　But　this　Muse　appears　not　to　him；　as　to　the　Greeks；　after　the　fashion　of　a　woman；　nor　even　more　prosaically　after　the　likeness　of　a　man。　Unnatural　though　it　seem　to　us；　his　inspiration　seeks　no　human　symbol。　　His　Muse　is　not　kin　to　mankind。　　She　is　too　impersonal　for　any　personification；　for　she　is　Nature。

That　poet　whose　name　carries　with　it　a　certain　presumption　of　infallibility　has　told　us　that　〃the　proper　study　of　mankind　is　man；〃　and　if　material　advancement　in　consequence　be　any　criterion　of　the　fitness　of　a　particular　mental　pursuit；　events　have　assuredly　justified　the　saying。　　Indeed；　the　Levant　has　helped　antithetically　to　preach　the　same　lesson；　in　showing　us　by　its　own　fatal　example　that　the　improper　study　of　mankind　is　woman；　and　that　they　who　but　follow　the　fair　will　inevitably　degenerate。

The　Far　Oriental　knows　nothing　of　either　study；　and　cares　less。　The　delight　of　self…exploration；　or　the　possibly　even　greater　delight　of　losing　one's　self　in　trying　to　fathom　femininity；　is　a　sensation　equally　foreign　to　his　temperament。　　Neither　the　remarkable　persistence　of　one's　own　characteristics；　not　infrequently　matter　of　deep　regret　to　their　possessor；　nor　the　charmingly　unaccountable　variability　of　the　fairer　sex；　at　times　quite　as　annoying；　is　a　phenomenon　sufficient　to　stir　his　curiosity。　　Accepting；　as　he　does；　the　existing　state　of　things　more　as　a　material　fact　than　as　a　phase　in　a　gradual　process　of　development；　he　regards　humanity　as　but　a　small　part　of　the　great　natural　world；　instead　of　considering　it　the　crowning　glory　of　the　whole。　　He　recognizes　man　merely　as　a　fraction　of　the　universe；one　might　almost　say　as　a　vulgar　fraction　of　it；　considering　the　low　regard　in　which　he　is　held；and　accords　him　his　proportionate　share　of　attention；　and　no　more。

In　his　thought；　nature　is　not　accessory　to　man。　　Worthy　M。　Perichon；　of　prosaic；　not　to　say　philistinic　fame；　had；　as　we　remember；　his　travels　immortalized　in　a　painting　where　a　colossal　Perichon　in　front　almost　completely　eclipsed　a　tiny　Mont　Blanc　behind。　　A　Far　Oriental　thinks　poetry；　which　may　possibly　account　for　the　fact　that　in　his　mind…pictures　the　relative　importance　of　man　and　mountain　stands　reversed。　　〃The　matchless　Fuji；〃　first　of　motifs　in　his　art；　admits　no　pilgrim　as　its　peer。

Nor　is　it　to　woman　that　turn　his　thoughts。　　Mother　Earth　is　fairer；　in　his　eyes；　than　are　any　of　her　daughters。　　To　her　is　given　the　heart　that　should　be　theirs。　　The　Far　Eastern　love　of　Nature　amounts　almost　to　a　passion。　　To　the　study　of　her　ever　varying　moods　her　Japanese　admirer　brings　an　impersonal　adoration　that　combines　oddly　the　aestheticism　of　a　poet　with　the　asceticism　of　a　recluse。　　Not　that　he　worships　in　secret；　however。　　His　passion　is　too　genuine　either　to　find　disguise　or　seek　display。　　With　us；　unfortunately；　the　love　of　Nature　is　apt　to　be　considered　a　mental　extravagance　peculiar　to　poets；　excusable　in　exact　ratio　to　the　ability　to　give　it　expression。　　For　an　ordinary　mortal　to　feel　a　fondness　for　Mother　Earth　is　a　kind　of　folly；　to　be　carefully　concealed　from　his　fellows。　　A　sort　of　shamefacedness　prevents　him　from　avowing　it；　as　a　boy　at　boarding…school　hides　his　homesickness；　or　a　lad　his　love。　　He　shrinks　from　appearing　less　pachydermatous　than　the　rest。　Or　else　he　flies　to　the　other　extreme；　and　affects　the　odd；　pretends；　poses；　parades；　and　at　last　succeeds　half　in　duping　himself；　half　in　deceiving　other　people。　　But　with　Far　Orientals　the　case　is　different。　　Their　love　has　all　the　unostentatious　assurance　of　what　has　received　the　sanction　of　public　opinion。　　Nor　is　it　still　at　that　doubtful；　hesitating　stage　when；　by　the　instrumentality　of　a　third；　its　soul…harmony　can　suddenly　be　changed　from　the　jubilant　major　key　into　the　despairing　minor。　　No　trace　of　sadness　tinges　his　delight。　He　has　long　since　passed　this　melancholy　phase　of　erotic　misery；　if　so　be　that　the　course　of　his　true　love　did　not　always　run　smooth；　and　is　now　well　on　in　matrimonial　bliss。　　The　very　look　of　the　land　is　enough　to　betray　the　fact。　　In　Japan　the　landscape　has　an　air　of　domesticity　about　it；　patent　even　to　the　most　casual　observer。　Wherever　the　Japanese　has　come　in　contact　with　the　country　he　has　made　her　unmistakably　his　own。　　He　has　touched　her　to　caress；　not　injure；　and　it　seems　as　if　Nature　accepted　his　fondness　as　a　matter　of　course；　and　yielded　him　a　wifely　submission　in　return。　　His　garden　is　more　human