『 The Book of Tea 』
『茶の本』-Okakura Tenshin（岡倉天心）-岡倉覚三著 村岡博訳
目次
第一章 人情の碗
茶は日常生活の俗事の中に美を崇拝する一種の審美的宗教すなわち茶道の域に達す――茶道は社会の上下を通じて広まる――新旧両世界の誤解――西洋における茶の崇拝――欧州の古い文献に現われた茶の記録――物と心の争いについての道教徒の話――現今における富貴権勢を得ようとする争い
第二章 茶の諸流
茶の進化の三時期――唐、宋、明の時代を表わす煎茶、抹茶、淹茶――茶道の鼻祖陸羽――三代の茶に関する理想――後世のシナ人には、茶は美味な飲料ではあるが理想ではない――日本においては茶は生の術に関する宗教である
第三章 道教と禅道
道教と禅道との関係――道教とその後継者禅道は南方シナ精神の個人的傾向を表わす――道教は浮世をかかるものとあきらめて、この憂き世の中にも美を見いだそうと努める――禅道は道教の教えを強調している――精進静慮することによって自性了解の極致に達せられる――禅道は道教と同じく相対を崇拝する――人生の些事の中にも偉大を考える禅の考え方が茶道の理想となる――道教は審美的理想の基礎を与え禅道はこれを実際的なものとした
第四章 茶室
茶室は茅屋に過ぎない――茶室の簡素純潔――茶室の構造における象徴主義――茶室の装飾法――外界のわずらわしさを遠ざかった聖堂
第五章 芸術鑑賞
美術鑑賞に必要な同情ある心の交通――名人とわれわれの間の内密の黙契――暗示の価値――美術の価値はただそれがわれわれに語る程度による――現今の美術に対する表面的の熱狂は真の感じに根拠をおいていない――美術と考古学の混同――われわれは人生の美しいものを破壊することによって美術を破壊している
第六章 花
花はわれらの不断の友――「花の宗匠」――西洋の社会における花の浪費――東洋の花卉栽培――茶の宗匠と生花の法則――生花の方法――花のために花を崇拝すること――生花の宗匠――生花の流派、形式派と写実派
第七章 茶の宗匠
芸術を真に鑑賞することはただ芸術から生きた力を生み出す人にのみ可能である――茶の宗匠の芸術に対する貢献――処世上に及ぼした影響――利休の最後の茶の湯
日本語訳朗読（ｵｰﾃﾞｵﾌﾞｯｸ茶の本 、
朗読全ﾀﾞｳﾝﾛｰﾄﾞ/ｻﾝﾌﾟﾙ有 、
「茶の本」朗読1,2,3（村岡博訳））
（Book）
（Read）
(YouTube)１～７
ChapterⅠ 第一章 （The Cup of Humanity 人情の碗）
（read 1～2） （YouTube read1-2）
Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage. In China, in the eighth century, it entered the realm of poetry as one of the polite amusements. The fifteenth century saw Japan ennoble it into a religion of aestheticism—Teaism. Teaism is a cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence. It inculcates purity and harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order. It is essentially a worship of the Imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.
茶は薬用として始まり後飲料となる。シナにおいては八世紀に高雅な遊びの一つとして詩歌の域に達した。十五世紀に至り日本はこれを高めて一種の審美的宗教、すなわち茶道にまで進めた。茶道は日常生活の俗事の中に存する美しきものを崇拝することに基づく一種の儀式であって、純粋と調和、相互愛の神秘、社会秩序のローマン主義を諄々と教えるものである。茶道の要義は「不完全なもの」を崇拝するにある。いわゆる人生というこの不可解なもののうちに、何か可能なものを成就しようとするやさしい企てであるから。
The Philosophy of Tea is not mere aestheticism in the ordinary acceptance of the term, for it expresses conjointly with ethics and religion our whole point of view about man and nature. It is hygiene, for it enforces cleanliness; it is economics, for it shows comfort in simplicity rather than in the complex and costly; it is moral geometry, inasmuch as it defines our sense of proportion to the universe. It represents the true spirit of Eastern democracy by making all its votaries aristocrats in taste.
茶の原理は普通の意味でいう単なる審美主義ではない。というのは、倫理、宗教と合して、天人に関するわれわれのいっさいの見解を表わしているものであるから。それは衛生学である、清潔をきびしく説くから。それは経済学である、というのは、複雑なぜいたくというよりもむしろ単純のうちに慰安を教えるから。それは精神幾何学である、なんとなれば、宇宙に対するわれわれの比例感を定義するから。それはあらゆるこの道の信者を趣味上の貴族にして、東洋民主主義の真精神を表わしている。
The long isolation of Japan from the rest of the world, so conducive to introspection, has been highly favourable to the development of Teaism. Our home and habits, costume and cuisine, porcelain, lacquer, painting—our very literature—all have been subject to its influence. No student of Japanese culture could ever ignore its presence. It has permeated the elegance of noble boudoirs, and entered the abode of the humble. Our peasants have learned to arrange flowers, our meanest labourer to offer his salutation to the rocks and waters. In our common parlance we speak of the man "with no tea" in him, when he is insusceptible to the serio-comic interests of the personal drama. Again we stigmatise the untamed aesthete who, regardless of the mundane tragedy, runs riot in the springtide of emancipated emotions, as one "with too much tea" in him.
日本が長い間世界から孤立していたのは、自省をする一助となって茶道の発達に非常に好都合であった。われらの住居、習慣、衣食、陶漆器、絵画等――文学でさえも――すべてその影響をこうむっている。いやしくも日本の文化を研究せんとする者は、この影響の存在を無視することはできない。茶道の影響は貴人の優雅な閨房にも、下賤の者の住み家にも行き渡ってきた。わが田夫は花を生けることを知り、わが野人も山水を愛でるに至った。俗に「あの男は茶気がない」という。もし人が、わが身の上におこるまじめながらの滑稽を知らないならば。また浮世の悲劇にとんじゃくもなく、浮かれ気分で騒ぐ半可通を「あまり茶気があり過ぎる」と言って非難する。
The outsider may indeed wonder at this seeming much ado about nothing. What a tempest in a tea-cup! he will say. But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup. Mankind has done worse. In the worship of Bacchus, we have sacrificed too freely; and we have even transfigured the gory image of Mars. Why not consecrate ourselves to the queen of the Camelias, and revel in the warm stream of sympathy that flows from her altar? In the liquid amber within the ivory-porcelain, the initiated may touch the sweet reticence of Confucius, the piquancy of Laotse, and the ethereal aroma of Sakyamuni himself.
よその目には、つまらぬことをこのように騒ぎ立てるのが、実に不思議に思われるかもしれぬ。一杯のお茶でなんという騒ぎだろうというであろうが、考えてみれば、煎ずるところ人間享楽の茶碗は、いかにも狭いものではないか、いかにも早く涙であふれるではないか、無辺を求むる渇のとまらぬあまり、一息に飲みほされるではないか。してみれば、茶碗をいくらもてはやしたとてとがめだてには及ぶまい。人間はこれよりもまだまだ悪いことをした。酒の神バッカスを崇拝するのあまり、惜しげもなく奉納をし過ぎた。軍神マーズの血なまぐさい姿をさえも理想化した。してみれば、カメリヤの女皇に身をささげ、その祭壇から流れ出る暖かい同情の流れを、心ゆくばかり楽しんでもよいではないか。象牙色の磁器にもられた液体琥珀の中に、その道の心得ある人は、孔子の心よき沈黙、老子の奇警、釈迦牟尼の天上の香にさえ触れることができる。
Those who cannot feel the littleness of great things in themselves are apt to overlook the greatness of little things in others. The average Westerner, in his sleek complacency, will see in the tea ceremony but another instance of the thousand and one oddities which constitute the quaintness and childishness of the East to him. He was wont to regard Japan as barbarous while she indulged in the gentle arts of peace: he calls her civilised since she began to commit wholesale slaughter on Manchurian battlefields. Much comment has been given lately to the Code of the Samurai,—the Art of Death which makes our soldiers exult in self-sacrifice; but scarcely any attention has been drawn to Teaism, which represents so much of our Art of Life. Fain would we remain barbarians, if our claim to civilisation were to be based on the gruesome glory of war. Fain would we await the time when due respect shall be paid to our art and ideals.
おのれに存する偉大なるものの小を感ずることのできない人は、他人に存する小なるものの偉大を見のがしがちである。一般の西洋人は、茶の湯を見て、東洋の珍奇、稚気をなしている千百の奇癖のまたの例に過ぎないと思って、袖の下で笑っているであろう。西洋人は、日本が平和な文芸にふけっていた間は、野蛮国と見なしていたものである。しかるに満州の戦場に大々的殺戮を行ない始めてから文明国と呼んでいる。近ごろ武士道――わが兵士に喜び勇んで身を捨てさせる死の術――について盛んに論評されてきた。しかし茶道にはほとんど注意がひかれていない。この道はわが生の術を多く説いているものであるが。もしわれわれが文明国たるためには、血なまぐさい戦争の名誉によらなければならないとするならば、むしろいつまでも野蛮国に甘んじよう。われわれはわが芸術および理想に対して、しかるべき尊敬が払われる時期が来るのを喜んで待とう。
When will the West understand, or try to understand, the East? We Asiatics are often appalled by the curious web of facts and fancies which has been woven concerning us. We are pictured as living on the perfume of the lotus, if not on mice and cockroaches. It is either impotent fanaticism or else abject voluptuousness. Indian spirituality has been derided as ignorance, Chinese sobriety as stupidity, Japanese patriotism as the result of fatalism. It has been said that we are less sensible to pain and wounds on account of the callousness of our nervous organisation!
いつになったら西洋が東洋を了解するであろう、否、了解しようと努めるであろう。われわれアジア人はわれわれに関して織り出された事実や想像の妙な話にしばしば胆を冷やすことがある。われわれは、ねずみや油虫を食べて生きているのでないとしても、蓮の香を吸って生きていると思われている。これは、つまらない狂信か、さもなければ見さげ果てた逸楽である。インドの心霊性を無知といい、シナの謹直を愚鈍といい、日本の愛国心をば宿命論の結果といってあざけられていた。はなはだしきは、われわれは神経組織が無感覚なるため、傷や痛みに対して感じが薄いとまで言われていた。
Why not amuse yourselves at our expense? Asia returns the compliment. There would be further food for merriment if you were to know all that we have imagined and written about you. All the glamour of the perspective is there, all the unconscious homage of wonder, all the silent resentment of the new and undefined. You have been loaded with virtues too refined to be envied, and accused of crimes too picturesque to be condemned. Our writers in the past—the wise men who knew—informed us that you had bushy tails somewhere hidden in your garments, and often dined off a fricassee of newborn babes! Nay, we had something worse against you: we used to think you the most impracticable people on the earth, for you were said to preach what you never practiced.
西洋の諸君、われわれを種にどんなことでも言ってお楽しみなさい。アジアは返礼いたします。まだまだおもしろい種になることはいくらでもあろう、もしわれわれ諸君についてこれまで、想像したり書いたりしたことがすっかりおわかりになれば。すべて遠きものをば美しと見、不思議に対して知らず知らず感服し、新しい不分明なものに対しては、口には出さねど憤るということがそこに含まれている。諸君はこれまで、うらやましく思うこともできないほど立派な徳を負わされて、あまり美しくて、とがめることのできないような罪をきせられている。わが国の昔の文人は――その当時の物知りであった――まあこんなことを言っている。諸君には着物のどこか見えないところに、毛深いしっぽがあり、そしてしばしば赤ん坊の細切り料理を食べていると！ 否、われわれは諸君に対してもっと悪いことを考えていた。すなわち諸君は、地球上で最も実行不可能な人種と思っていた。というわけは、諸君は決して実行しないことを口では説いているといわれていたから。
Such misconceptions are fast vanishing amongst us. Commerce has forced the European tongues on many an Eastern port. Asiatic youths are flocking to Western colleges for the equipment of modern education. Our insight does not penetrate your culture deeply, but at least we are willing to learn. Some of my compatriots have adopted too much of your customs and too much of your etiquette, in the delusion that the acquisition of stiff collars and tall silk hats comprised the attainment of your civilisation. Pathetic and deplorable as such affectations are, they evince our willingness to approach the West on our knees. Unfortunately the Western attitude is unfavourable to the understanding of the East. The Christian missionary goes to impart, but not to receive. Your information is based on the meagre translations of our immense literature, if not on the unreliable anecdotes of passing travellers. It is rarely that the chivalrous pen of a Lafcadio Hearn or that of the author of "The Web of Indian Life" enlivens the Oriental darkness with the torch of our own sentiments.
かくのごとき誤解はわれわれのうちからすみやかに消え去ってゆく。商業上の必要に迫られて欧州の国語が、東洋幾多の港に用いられるようになって来た。アジアの青年は現代的教育を受けるために、西洋の大学に群がってゆく。われわれの洞察力は、諸君の文化に深く入り込むことはできない。しかし少なくともわれわれは喜んで学ぼうとしている。私の同国人のうちには、諸君の習慣や礼儀作法をあまりに多く取り入れた者がある。こういう人は、こわばったカラや丈の高いシルクハットを得ることが、諸君の文明を得ることと心得違いをしていたのである。かかる様子ぶりは、実に哀れむべき嘆かわしいものであるが、ひざまずいて西洋文明に近づこうとする証拠となる。不幸にして、西洋の態度は東洋を理解するに都合が悪い。キリスト教の宣教師は与えるために行き、受けようとはしない。諸君の知識は、もし通りすがりの旅人のあてにならない話に基づくのでなければ、わが文学の貧弱な翻訳に基づいている。ラフカディオ・ハーンの義侠的ペン、または『インド生活の組織（一）』の著者のそれが、われわれみずからの感情の松明をもって東洋の闇を明るくすることはまれである。
Perhaps I betray my own ignorance of the Tea Cult by being so outspoken. Its very spirit of politeness exacts that you say what you are expected to say, and no more. But I am not to be a polite Teaist. So much harm has been done already by the mutual misunderstanding of the New World and the Old, that one need not apologise for contributing his tithe to the furtherance of a better understanding. The beginning of the twentieth century would have been spared the spectacle of sanguinary warfare if Russia had condescended to know Japan better. What dire consequences to humanity lie in the contemptuous ignoring of Eastern problems! European imperialism, which does not disdain to raise the absurd cry of the Yellow Peril, fails to realise that Asia may also awaken to the cruel sense of the White Disaster. You may laugh at us for having "too much tea," but may we not suspect that you of the West have "no tea" in your constitution?
私はこんなにあけすけに言って、たぶん茶道についての私自身の無知を表わすであろう。茶道の高雅な精神そのものは、人から期待せられていることだけ言うことを要求する。しかし私は立派な茶人のつもりで書いているのではない。新旧両世界の誤解によって、すでに非常な禍をこうむっているのであるから、お互いがよく了解することを助けるために、いささかなりとも貢献するに弁解の必要はない。二十世紀の初めに、もしロシアがへりくだって日本をよく了解していたら、血なまぐさい戦争の光景は見ないで済んだであろうに。東洋の問題をさげすんで度外視すれば、なんという恐ろしい結果が人類に及ぶことであろう。ヨーロッパの帝国主義は、黄禍のばかげた叫びをあげることを恥じないが、アジアもまた、白禍の恐るべきをさとるに至るかもしれないということは、わかりかねている。諸君はわれわれを「あまり茶気があり過ぎる」と笑うかもしれないが、われわれはまた西洋の諸君には天性「茶気がない」と思うかもしれないではないか。
Let us stop the continents from hurling epigrams at each other, and be sadder if not wiser by the mutual gain of half a hemisphere. We have developed along different lines, but there is no reason why one should not supplement the other. You have gained expansion at the cost of restlessness; we have created a harmony which is weak against aggression. Will you believe it?—the East is better off in some respects than the West!
東西両大陸が互いに奇警な批評を飛ばすことはやめにして、東西互いに得る利益によって、よし物がわかって来ないとしても、お互いにやわらかい気持ちになろうではないか。お互いに違った方面に向かって発展して来ているが、しかし互いに長短相補わない道理はない。諸君は心の落ちつきを失ってまで膨張発展を遂げた。われわれは侵略に対しては弱い調和を創造した。諸君は信ずることができますか、東洋はある点で西洋にまさっているということを！
Strangely enough humanity has so far met in the tea-cup. It is the only Asiatic ceremonial which commands universal esteem. The white man has scoffed at our religion and our morals, but has accepted the brown beverage without hesitation. The afternoon tea is now an important function in Western society. In the delicate clatter of trays and saucers, in the soft rustle of feminine hospitality, in the common catechism about cream and sugar, we know that the Worship of Tea is established beyond question. The philosophic resignation of the guest to the fate awaiting him in the dubious decoction proclaims that in this single instance the Oriental spirit reigns supreme.
不思議にも人情は今までのところ茶碗に東西相合している。茶道は世界的に重んぜられている唯一のアジアの儀式である。白人はわが宗教道徳を嘲笑した。しかしこの褐色飲料は躊躇もなく受け入れてしまった。午後の喫茶は、今や西洋の社会における重要な役をつとめている。盆や茶托の打ち合う微妙な音にも、ねんごろにもてなす婦人の柔らかい絹ずれの音にも、また、クリームや砂糖を勧められたり断わったりする普通の問答にも、茶の崇拝は疑いもなく確立しているということがわかる。渋いか甘いか疑わしい煎茶の味は、客を待つ運命に任せてあきらめる。この一事にも東洋精神が強く現われているということがわかる。
The earliest record of tea in European writing is said to be found in the statement of an Arabian traveller, that after the year 879 the main sources of revenue in Canton were the duties on salt and tea. Marco Polo records the deposition of a Chinese minister of finance in 1285 for his arbitrary augmentation of the tea-taxes. It was at the period of the great discoveries that the European people began to know more about the extreme Orient. At the end of the sixteenth century the Hollanders brought the news that a pleasant drink was made in the East from the leaves of a bush. The travellers Giovanni Batista Ramusio (1559), L. Almeida (1576), Maffeno (1588), Tareira (1610), also mentioned tea. In the last-named year ships of the Dutch East India Company brought the first tea into Europe. It was known in France in 1636, and reached Russia in 1638. England welcomed it in 1650 and spoke of it as "That excellent and by all physicians approved China drink, called by the Chineans Tcha, and by other nations Tay, alias Tee."
ヨーロッパにおける茶についての最も古い記事は、アラビヤの旅行者の物語にあると言われていて、八七九年以後広東における主要なる歳入の財源は塩と茶の税であったと述べてある。マルコポーロは、シナの市舶司が茶税を勝手に増したために、一二八五年免職になったことを記録している。ヨーロッパ人が、極東についていっそう多く知り始めたのは、実に大発見時代のころである。十六世紀の終わりにオランダ人は、東洋において灌木の葉からさわやかな飲料が造られることを報じた。ジオヴァーニ・バティスタ・ラムージオ（一五五九）、エル・アルメイダ（一五七六）、マフェノ（一五八八）、タレイラ（一六一〇）らの旅行者たちもまた茶のことを述べている（二）。一六一〇年に、オランダ東インド会社の船がヨーロッパに初めて茶を輸入した。一六三六年にはフランスに伝わり、一六三八年にはロシアにまで達した。英国は一六五〇年これを喜び迎えて、「かの卓絶せる、かつすべての医者の推奨するシナ飲料、シナ人はこれをチャと呼び、他国民はこれをテイまたはティーと呼ぶ。」と言っていた。
Like all good things of the world, the propaganda of Tea met with opposition. Heretics like Henry Saville (1678) denounced drinking it as a filthy custom. Jonas Hanway (Essay on Tea, 1756) said that men seemed to lose their stature and comeliness, women their beauty through the use of tea. Its cost at the start (about fifteen or sixteen shillings a pound) forbade popular consumption, and made it "regalia for high treatments and entertainments, presents being made thereof to princes and grandees." Yet in spite of such drawbacks tea-drinking spread with marvelous rapidity. The coffee-houses of London in the early half of the eighteenth century became, in fact, tea-houses, the resort of wits like Addison and Steele, who beguiled themselves over their "dish of tea." The beverage soon became a necessity of life—a taxable matter. We are reminded in this connection what an important part it plays in modern history. Colonial America resigned herself to oppression until human endurance gave way before the heavy duties laid on Tea. American independence dates from the throwing of tea-chests into Boston harbour.
この世のすべてのよい物と同じく、茶の普及もまた反対にあった。ヘンリー・セイヴィル（一六七八）のような異端者は、茶を飲むことを不潔な習慣として口をきわめて非難した。ジョウナス・ハンウェイは言った。（茶の説・一七五六）茶を用いれば男は身のたけ低くなり、みめをそこない、女はその美を失うと。茶の価の高いために（一ポンド約十五シリング）初めは一般の人の消費を許さなかった。「歓待饗応用の王室御用品、王侯貴族の贈答用品」として用いられた。しかしこういう不利な立場にあるにもかかわらず、喫茶は、すばらしい勢いで広まって行った。十八世紀前半におけるロンドンのコーヒー店は、実際喫茶店となり、アディソンやスティールのような文士のつどうところとなり、茶を喫しながらかれらは退屈しのぎをしたものである。この飲料はまもなく生活の必要品――課税品――となった。これに関連して、現代の歴史において茶がいかに主要な役を務めているかを思い出す。アメリカ植民地は圧迫を甘んじて受けていたが、ついに、茶の重税に堪えかねて人間の忍耐力も尽きてしまった。アメリカの独立は、ボストン港に茶箱を投じたことに始まる。
There is a subtle charm in the taste of tea which makes it irresistible and capable of idealisation. Western humourists were not slow to mingle the fragrance of their thought with its aroma. It has not the arrogance of wine, the self-consciousness of coffee, nor the simpering innocence of cocoa. Already in 1711, says the Spectator: "I would therefore in a particular manner recommend these my speculations to all well-regulated families that set apart an hour every morning for tea, bread and butter; and would earnestly advise them for their good to order this paper to be punctually served up and to be looked upon as a part of the tea-equipage." Samuel Johnson draws his own portrait as "a hardened and shameless tea drinker, who for twenty years diluted his meals with only the infusion of the fascinating plant; who with tea amused the evening, with tea solaced the midnight, and with tea welcomed the morning."
茶の味には微妙な魅力があって、人はこれに引きつけられないわけにはゆかない、またこれを理想化するようになる。西洋の茶人たちは、茶のかおりとかれらの思想の芳香を混ずるに鈍ではなかった。茶には酒のような傲慢なところがない。コーヒーのような自覚もなければ、またココアのような気取った無邪気もない。一七一一年にすでにスペクテイター紙に次のように言っている。「それゆえに私は、この私の考えを、毎朝、茶とバタつきパンに一時間を取っておかれるような、すべての立派な御家庭へ特にお勧めしたいと思います。そして、どうぞこの新聞を、お茶のしたくの一部分として、時間を守って出すようにお命じになることを、せつにお勧めいたします。」サミュエル・ジョンソンはみずからの人物を描いて次のように言っている。「因業な恥知らずのお茶飲みで、二十年間も食事を薄くするにただこの魔力ある植物の振り出しをもってした。そして茶をもって夕べを楽しみ、茶をもって真夜中を慰め、茶をもって晨を迎えた。」
Charles Lamb, a professed devotee, sounded the true note of Teaism when he wrote that the greatest pleasure he knew was to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident. For Teaism is the art of concealing beauty that you may discover it, of suggesting what you dare not reveal. It is the noble secret of laughing at yourself, calmly yet thoroughly, and is thus humour itself,—the smile of philosophy. All genuine humourists may in this sense be called tea-philosophers, Thackeray, for instance, and of course, Shakespeare. The poets of the Decadence (when was not the world in decadence?), in their protests against materialism, have, to a certain extent, also opened the way to Teaism. Perhaps nowadays it is our demure contemplation of the Imperfect that the West and the East can meet in mutual consolation.
ほんとうの茶人チャールズ・ラムは、「ひそかに善を行なって偶然にこれが現われることが何よりの愉快である。」というところに茶道の真髄を伝えている。というわけは、茶道は美を見いださんがために美を隠す術であり、現わすことをはばかるようなものをほのめかす術である。この道はおのれに向かって、落ち着いてしかし充分に笑うけだかい奥義である。従ってヒューマーそのものであり、悟りの微笑である。すべて真に茶を解する人はこの意味において茶人と言ってもよかろう。たとえばサッカレー、それからシェイクスピアはもちろん、文芸廃頽期の詩人もまた、（と言っても、いずれの時か廃頽期でなかろう）物質主義に対する反抗のあまりいくらか茶道の思想を受け入れた。たぶん今日においてもこの「不完全」を真摯に静観してこそ、東西相会して互いに慰めることができるであろう。
The Taoists relate that at the great beginning of the No-Beginning, Spirit and Matter met in mortal combat. At last the Yellow Emperor, the Sun of Heaven, triumphed over Shuhyung, the demon of darkness and earth. The Titan, in his death agony, struck his head against the solar vault and shivered the blue dome of jade into fragments. The stars lost their nests, the moon wandered aimlessly among the wild chasms of the night. In despair the Yellow Emperor sought far and wide for the repairer of the Heavens. He had not to search in vain. Out of the Eastern sea rose a queen, the divine Niuka, horn-crowned and dragon-tailed, resplendent in her armor of fire. She welded the five-coloured rainbow in her magic cauldron and rebuilt the Chinese sky. But it is told that Niuka forgot to fill two tiny crevices in the blue firmament. Thus began the dualism of love—two souls rolling through space and never at rest until they join together to complete the universe. Everyone has to build anew his sky of hope and peace.
道教徒はいう、「無始」の始めにおいて「心」と「物」が決死の争闘をした。ついに大日輪黄帝は闇と地の邪神祝融に打ち勝った。その巨人は死苦のあまり頭を天涯に打ちつけ、硬玉の青天を粉砕した。星はその場所を失い、月は夜の寂寞たる天空をあてもなくさまようた。失望のあまり黄帝は、遠く広く天の修理者を求めた。捜し求めたかいはあって東方の海から女媧という女皇、角をいただき竜尾をそなえ、火の甲冑をまとって燦然たる姿で現われた。その神は不思議な大釜に五色の虹を焼き出し、シナの天を建て直した。しかしながら、また女媧は蒼天にある二個の小隙を埋めることを忘れたと言われている。かくのごとくして愛の二元論が始まった。すなわち二個の霊は空間を流転してとどまることを知らず、ついに合して始めて完全な宇宙をなす。人はおのおの希望と平和の天空を新たに建て直さなければならぬ。
The heaven of modern humanity is indeed shattered in the Cyclopean struggle for wealth and power. The world is groping in the shadow of egotism and vulgarity. Knowledge is bought through a bad conscience, benevolence practiced for the sake of utility. The East and the West, like two dragons tossed in a sea of ferment, in vain strive to regain the jewel of life. We need a Niuka again to repair the grand devastation; we await the great Avatar. Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.
現代の人道の天空は、富と権力を得んと争う莫大な努力によって全く粉砕せられている。世は利己、俗悪の闇に迷っている。知識は心にやましいことをして得られ、仁は実利のために行なわれている。東西両洋は、立ち騒ぐ海に投げ入れられた二竜のごとく、人生の宝玉を得ようとすれどそのかいもない。この大荒廃を繕うために再び女媧を必要とする。われわれは大権化の出現を待つ。まあ、茶でも一口すすろうではないか。明るい午後の日は竹林にはえ、泉水はうれしげな音をたて、松籟はわが茶釜に聞こえている。はかないことを夢に見て、美しい取りとめのないことをあれやこれやと考えようではないか。
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ChapterⅡ 第二章 （The Schools of Tea. 茶の流派）
（read 1～2） （YouTube 1-2） （日本語訳 1）
Tea is a work of art and needs a master hand to bring out its noblest qualities. We have good and bad tea, as we have good and bad paintings—generally the latter. There is no single recipe for making the perfect tea, as there are no rules for producing a Titian or a Sesson. Each preparation of the leaves has its individuality, its special affinity with water and heat, its own method of telling a story. The truly beautiful must always be in it. How much do we not suffer through the constant failure of society to recognise this simple and fundamental law of art and life; Lichilai, a Sung poet, has sadly remarked that there were three most deplorable things in the world: the spoiling of fine youths through false education, the degradation of fine art through vulgar admiration, and the utter waste of fine tea through incompetent manipulation.
茶は芸術品であるから、その最もけだかい味を出すには名人を要する。茶にもいろいろある、絵画に傑作と駄作と――概して後者――があると同様に。と言っても、立派な茶をたてるのにこれぞという秘法はない、ティシアン、雪村のごとき名画を作製するのに何も規則がないと同様に。茶はたてるごとに、それぞれ個性を備え、水と熱に対する特別の親和力を持ち、世々相伝の追憶を伴ない、それ独特の話しぶりがある。真の美は必ず常にここに存するのである。芸術と人生のこの単純な根本的法則を、社会が認めないために、われわれはなんという損失をこうむっていることであろう。宋の詩人李仲光は、世に最も悲しむべきことが三つあると嘆じた、すなわち誤れる教育のために立派な青年をそこなうもの、鑑賞の俗悪なために名画の価値を減ずるもの、手ぎわの悪いために立派なお茶を全く浪費するものこれである。
Like Art, Tea has its periods and its schools. Its evolution may be roughly divided into three main stages: the Boiled Tea, the Whipped Tea, and the Steeped Tea. We moderns belong to the last school. These several methods of appreciating the beverage are indicative of the spirit of the age in which they prevailed. For life is an expression, our unconscious actions the constant betrayal of our innermost thought. Confucius said that "man hideth not." Perhaps we reveal ourselves too much in small things because we have so little of the great to conceal. The tiny incidents of daily routine are as much a commentary of racial ideals as the highest flight of philosophy or poetry. Even as the difference in favorite vintage marks the separate idiosyncrasies of different periods and nationalities of Europe, so the Tea-ideals characterise the various moods of Oriental culture. The Cake-tea which was boiled, the Powdered-tea which was whipped, the Leaf-tea which was steeped, mark the distinct emotional impulses of the Tang, the Sung, and the Ming dynasties of China. If we were inclined to borrow the much-abused terminology of art-classification, we might designate them respectively, the Classic, the Romantic, and the Naturalistic schools of Tea.
芸術と同じく、茶にもその時代と流派とがある。茶の進化は概略三大時期に分けられる、煎茶、抹茶および掩茶すなわちこれである。われわれ現代人はその最後の流派に属している。これら茶のいろいろな味わい方は、その流行した当時の時代精神を表わしている。と言うのは、人生はわれらの内心の表現であり、知らず知らずの行動はわれわれの内心の絶えざる発露であるから。孔子いわく「人いずくんぞ廋さんや、人いずくんぞ廋さんや」と。たぶんわれわれは隠すべき偉大なものが非常に少ないからであろう、些事に自己を顕わすことが多すぎて困る。日々起こる小事件も、哲学、詩歌の高翔と同じく人種的理想の評論である。愛好する葡萄酒の違いでさえ、ヨーロッパのいろいろな時代や国民のそれぞれの特質を表わしているように、茶の理想もいろいろな情調の東洋文化の特徴を表わしている。煮る団茶、かき回す粉茶、淹す葉茶はそれぞれ、唐、宋、明の気分を明らかに示している。もし、芸術分類に濫用された名称を借りるとすれば、これらをそれぞれ、古典的、ローマン的、および自然主義的な茶の諸流と言えるであろう。
The tea-plant, a native of southern China, was known from very early times to Chinese botany and medicine. It is alluded to in the classics under the various names of Tou, Tseh, Chung, Kha, and Ming, and was highly prized for possessing the virtues of relieving fatigue, delighting the soul, strengthening the will, and repairing the eyesight. It was not only administered as an internal dose, but often applied externally in form of paste to alleviate rheumatic pains. The Taoists claimed it as an important ingredient of the elixir of immortality. The Buddhists used it extensively to prevent drowsiness during their long hours of meditation.
南シナの産なる茶の木は、ごく早い時代からシナの植物学界および薬物学界に知られていた。古典には、檟（れい）、名（みょう）、というようないろいろな名前で書いてあって、疲労をいやし、精神をさわやかにし、意志を強くし、視力をととのえる効能があるために大いに重んぜられた。ただに内服薬として服用せられたのみならず、しばしばリューマチの痛みを軽減するために、煉薬として外用薬にも用いられた。道教徒は、不死の霊薬の重要な成分たることを主張した。仏教徒は、彼らが長時間の黙想中に、睡魔予防剤として広くこれを服用した。
By the fourth and fifth centuries Tea became a favourite beverage among the inhabitants of the Yangtse-Kiang valley. It was about this time that modern ideograph Cha was coined, evidently a corruption of the classic Tou. The poets of the southern dynasties have left some fragments of their fervent adoration of the "froth of the liquid jade." Then emperors used to bestow some rare preparation of the leaves on their high ministers as a reward for eminent services. Yet the method of drinking tea at this stage was primitive in the extreme. The leaves were steamed, crushed in a mortar, made into a cake, and boiled together with rice, ginger, salt, orange peel, spices, milk, and sometimes with onions! The custom obtains at the present day among the Thibetans and various Mongolian tribes, who make a curious syrup of these ingredients. The use of lemon slices by the Russians, who learned to take tea from the Chinese caravansaries, points to the survival of the ancient method.
四五世紀のころには、揚子江流域住民の愛好飲料となった。このころに至って始めて、現代用いている「茶」という表意文字が造られたのである。これは明らかに、古い「※［＃「木＋余」、U+688C、32-15］」の字の俗字であろう。南朝の詩人は「液体硬玉の泡沫」を熱烈に崇拝した跡が見えている。また帝王は、高官の者の勲功に対して上製の茶を贈与したものである。しかし、この時期における茶の飲み方はきわめて原始的なものであった。茶の葉を蒸して臼に入れてつき、団子として、米、薑、塩、橘皮、香料、牛乳等、時には葱とともに煮るのであった。この習慣は現今チベット人および蒙古種族の間に行なわれていて、彼らはこれらの混合物で一種の妙なシロップを造るのである。ロシア人がレモンの切れを用いるのは――彼らはシナの隊商宿から茶を飲むことを覚えたのであるが――この古代の茶の飲み方が残っていることを示している。
It needed the genius of the Tang dynasty to emancipate Tea from its crude state and lead to its final idealization. With Luwuh in the middle of the eighth century we have our first apostle of tea. He was born in an age when Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism were seeking mutual synthesis. The pantheistic symbolism of the time was urging one to mirror the Universal in the Particular. Luwuh, a poet, saw in the Tea-service the same harmony and order which reigned through all things. In his celebrated work, the "Chaking" (The Holy Scripture of Tea) he formulated the Code of Tea. He has since been worshipped as the tutelary god of the Chinese tea merchants.
茶をその粗野な状態から脱して理想の域に達せしめるには、実に唐朝の時代精神を要した。八世紀の中葉に出た陸羽（三）をもって茶道の鼻祖とする。かれは、仏、道、儒教が互いに混淆せんとしている時代に生まれた。その時代の汎神論的象徴主義に促されて、人は特殊の物の中に万有の反映を見るようになった。詩人陸羽は、茶の湯に万有を支配しているものと同一の調和と秩序を認めた。彼はその有名な著作茶経（茶の聖典）において、茶道を組織立てたのである。爾来彼は、シナの茶をひさぐ者の保護神としてあがめられている。
The "Chaking" consists of three volumes and ten chapters. In the first chapter Luwuh treats of the nature of the tea-plant, in the second of the implements for gathering the leaves, in the third of the selection of the leaves. According to him the best quality of the leaves must have "creases like the leathern boot of Tartar horsemen, curl like the dewlap of a mighty bullock, unfold like a mist rising out of a ravine, gleam like a lake touched by a zephyr, and be wet and soft like fine earth newly swept by rain."
茶経は三巻十章よりなる。彼は第一章において茶の源を論じ、第二章、製茶の器具を論じ、第三章、製茶法を論じている（四）。彼の説によれば、茶の葉の質の最良なものは必ず次のようなものである。
胡人の鞾のごとくなる者蹙縮然たり（五） 、第4水準2-80-24)" class="gaiji" />牛の臆なる者廉※然たり（六） 浮雲の山をいずる者輸菌然たり（七） 軽飈の水を払う者涵澹然たり（八） また新治の地なる者暴雨流潦の経る所に遇うがごとし（九）
The fourth chapter is devoted to the enumeration and description of the twenty-four members of the tea-equipage, beginning with the tripod brazier and ending with the bamboo cabinet for containing all these utensils. Here we notice Luwuh's predilection for Taoist symbolism. Also it is interesting to observe in this connection the influence of tea on Chinese ceramics. The Celestial porcelain, as is well known, had its origin in an attempt to reproduce the exquisite shade of jade, resulting, in the Tang dynasty, in the blue glaze of the south, and the white glaze of the north. Luwuh considered the blue as the ideal colour for the tea-cup, as it lent additional greenness to the beverage, whereas the white made it look pinkish and distasteful. It was because he used cake-tea. Later on, when the tea masters of Sung took to the powdered tea, they preferred heavy bowls of blue-black and dark brown. The Mings, with their steeped tea, rejoiced in light ware of white porcelain.
第四章はもっぱら茶器の二十四種を列挙してこれについての記述であって、風炉（一〇）に始まり、これらのすべての道具を入れる都籃に終わっている。ここにもわれわれは陸羽の道教象徴主義に対する偏好を認める。これに連関して、シナの製陶術に及ぼした茶の影響を観察してみることもまた興味あることである。シナ磁器は、周知のごとく、その源は硬玉のえも言われぬ色合いを表わそうとの試みに起こり、その結果唐代には、南部の青磁と北部の白磁を生じた。陸羽は青色を茶碗に理想的な色と考えた、青色は茶の緑色を増すが白色は茶を淡紅色にしてまずそうにするから。それは彼が団茶を用いたからであった。その後宋の茶人らが粉茶を用いるに至って、彼らは濃藍色および黒褐色の重い茶碗を好んだ。明人は淹茶を用い、軽い白磁を喜んだ。
In the fifth chapter Luwuh describes the method of making tea. He eliminates all ingredients except salt. He dwells also on the much-discussed question of the choice of water and the degree of boiling it. According to him, the mountain spring is the best, the river water and the spring water come next in the order of excellence. There are three stages of boiling: the first boil is when the little bubbles like the eye of fishes swim on the surface; the second boil is when the bubbles are like crystal beads rolling in a fountain; the third boil is when the billows surge wildly in the kettle. The Cake-tea is roasted before the fire until it becomes soft like a baby's arm and is shredded into powder between pieces of fine paper. Salt is put in the first boil, the tea in the second. At the third boil, a dipperful of cold water is poured into the kettle to settle the tea and revive the "youth of the water." Then the beverage was poured into cups and drunk. O nectar! The filmy leaflet hung like scaly clouds in a serene sky or floated like waterlilies on emerald streams. It was of such a beverage that Lotung, a Tang poet, wrote: "The first cup moistens my lips and throat, the second cup breaks my loneliness, the third cup searches my barren entrail but to find therein some five thousand volumes of odd ideographs. The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration,—all the wrong of life passes away through my pores. At the fifth cup I am purified; the sixth cup calls me to the realms of the immortals. The seventh cup—ah, but I could take no more! I only feel the breath of cool wind that rises in my sleeves. Where is Horaisan? Let me ride on this sweet breeze and waft away thither."
第五章において陸羽は茶のたて方について述べている。彼は塩以外の混合物を取り除いている。彼はまた、これまで大いに論ぜられていた水の選択、煮沸の程度の問題についても詳述している。彼の説によると、その水、山水を用うるは上、江水は中、井水は下である。煮沸に三段ある。その沸、魚目（一一）のごとく、すこし声あるを一沸となし、縁辺の涌泉蓮珠（一二）のごとくなるを二沸となし、騰波鼓浪（一三）を三沸となしている。団茶はこれをあぶって嬰児の臂のごとく柔らかにし、紙袋を用いてこれをたくわう。初沸にはすなわち、水量に合わせてこれをととのうるに塩味をもってし、第二沸に茶を入れる。第三沸には少量の冷水を鍑に注ぎ、茶を静めてその「華（一四）」を育う。それからこれを茶碗に注いで飲むのである。これまさに神酒！ 晴天爽朗なるに浮雲鱗然たるあるがごとし（一五）。その沫は緑銭の水渭に浮かべるがごとし（一六）。唐の詩人盧同の歌ったのはこのような立派な茶のことである。
The remaining chapters of the "Chaking" treat of the vulgarity of the ordinary methods of tea-drinking, a historical summary of illustrious tea-drinkers, the famous tea plantations of China, the possible variations of the tea-service and illustrations of the tea-utensils. The last is unfortunately lost.
一椀喉吻潤い、二椀孤悶を破る。三椀枯腸をさぐる。惟う文字五千巻有り。四椀軽汗を発す。平生不平の事ことごとく毛孔に向かって散ず。五椀肌骨清し。六椀仙霊に通ず。七椀吃し得ざるに也ただ覚ゆ両腋習々清風の生ずるを。蓬莱山はいずくにかある 玉川子この清風に乗じて帰りなんと欲す（一七）。
The appearance of the "Chaking" must have created considerable sensation at the time. Luwuh was befriended by the Emperor Taisung (763-779), and his fame attracted many followers. Some exquisites were said to have been able to detect the tea made by Luwuh from that of his disciples. One mandarin has his name immortalised by his failure to appreciate the tea of this great master.
茶経の残りの章は、普通の喫茶法の俗悪なこと、有名な茶人の簡単な実録、有名な茶園、あらゆる変わった茶器、および茶道具のさし絵が書いてある。最後の章は不幸にも欠けている。
茶経が世に出て、当時かなりの評判になったに違いない。陸羽は代宗（七六三―七七九）の援くるところとなり、彼の名声はあがって多くの門弟が集まって来た。通人の中には、陸羽のたてた茶と、その弟子のたてた茶を飲み分けることができる者もいたということである。ある官人はこの名人のたてた茶の味がわからなかったために、その名を不朽に伝えている。
In the Sung dynasty the whipped tea came into fashion and created the second school of Tea. The leaves were ground to fine powder in a small stone mill, and the preparation was whipped in hot water by a delicate whisk made of split bamboo. The new process led to some change in the tea-equipage of Luwuh, as well as in the choice of leaves. Salt was discarded forever. The enthusiasm of the Sung people for tea knew no bounds. Epicures vied with each other in discovering new varieties, and regular tournaments were held to decide their superiority. The Emperor Kiasung (1101-1124), who was too great an artist to be a well-behaved monarch, lavished his treasures on the attainment of rare species. He himself wrote a dissertation on the twenty kinds of tea, among which he prizes the "white tea" as of the rarest and finest quality.
宋代には抹茶が流行するようになって茶の第二の流派を生じた。茶の葉は小さな臼で挽いて細粉とし、その調製品を湯に入れて割り竹製の精巧な小箒でまぜるのであった。この新しい方法が起こったために、陸羽が茶の葉の選択法はもちろん、茶のたて方にも多少の変化を起こすに至って、塩は永久にすてられた。宋人の茶に対する熱狂はとどまるところを知らなかった。食道楽の人は互いに競うて新しい変わった方法を発見しようとした、そしてその優劣を決するために定時の競技が行なわれた。徽宗皇帝（一一〇一―一一二四）はあまりに偉い芸術家であって行ないよろしきにかなった王とはいえないが、茶の珍種を得んためにその財宝を惜しげもなく費やした。王みずから茶の二十四種についての論を書いて、そのうち、「白茶」を最も珍しい良質のものであるといって重んじている。
The tea-ideal of the Sungs differed from the Tangs even as their notion of life differed. They sought to actualize what their predecessors tried to symbolise. To the Neo-Confucian mind the cosmic law was not reflected in the phenomenal world, but the phenomenal world was the cosmic law itself. Aeons were but moments—Nirvana always within grasp. The Taoist conception that immortality lay in the eternal change permeated all their modes of thought. It was the process, not the deed, which was interesting. It was the completing, not the completion, which was really vital. Man came thus at once face to face with nature. A new meaning grew into the art of life. The tea began to be not a poetical pastime, but one of the methods of self-realisation. Wangyucheng eulogised tea as "flooding his soul like a direct appeal, that its delicate bitterness reminded him of the aftertaste of a good counsel." Sotumpa wrote of the strength of the immaculate purity in tea which defied corruption as a truly virtuous man. Among the Buddhists, the southern Zen sect, which incorporated so much of Taoist doctrines, formulated an elaborate ritual of tea. The monks gathered before the image of Bodhi Dharma and drank tea out of a single bowl with the profound formality of a holy sacrament. It was this Zen ritual which finally developed into the Tea-ceremony of Japan in the fifteenth century.
宋人の茶に対する理想は唐人とは異なっていた、ちょうどその人生観が違っていたように。宋人は、先祖が象徴をもって表わそうとした事を写実的に表わそうと努めた。新儒教の心には、宇宙の法則はこの現象世界に映らなかったが、この現象世界がすなわち宇宙の法則そのものであった。永劫はこれただ瞬時――涅槃はつねに掌握のうち、不朽は永遠の変化に存すという道教の考えが彼らのあらゆる考え方にしみ込んでいた。興味あるところはその過程にあって行為ではなかった。真に肝要なるは完成することであって完成ではなかった。かくのごとくして人は直ちに天に直面するようになった。新しい意味は次第に生の術にはいって来た。茶は風流な遊びではなくなって、自性了解の一つの方法となって来た。王元之は茶を称揚して、直言のごとく霊をあふらせ、その爽快な苦味は善言の余馨を思わせると言った。蘇東坡は茶の清浄無垢な力について、真に有徳の君子のごとく汚すことができないと書いている。仏教徒の間では、道教の教義を多く交じえた南方の禅宗が苦心丹精の茶の儀式を組み立てた。僧らは菩提達磨の像の前に集まって、ただ一個の碗から聖餐のようにすこぶる儀式張って茶を飲むのであった。この禅の儀式こそはついに発達して十五世紀における日本の茶の湯となった。
Unfortunately the sudden outburst of the Mongol tribes in the thirteenth century which resulted in the devastation and conquest of China under the barbaric rule of the Yuen Emperors, destroyed all the fruits of Sung culture. The native dynasty of the Mings which attempted re-nationalisation in the middle of the fifteenth century was harassed by internal troubles, and China again fell under the alien rule of the Manchus in the seventeenth century. Manners and customs changed to leave no vestige of the former times. The powdered tea is entirely forgotten. We find a Ming commentator at loss to recall the shape of the tea whisk mentioned in one of the Sung classics. Tea is now taken by steeping the leaves in hot water in a bowl or cup. The reason why the Western world is innocent of the older method of drinking tea is explained by the fact that Europe knew it only at the close of the Ming dynasty.
不幸にして十三世紀蒙古種族の突如として起こるにあい、元朝の暴政によってシナはついに劫掠征服せられ、宋代文化の所産はことごとく破壊せらるるに至った。十七世紀の中葉に国家再興を企ててシナ本国から起こった明朝は内紛のために悩まされ、次いで十八世紀、シナはふたたび北狄満州人の支配するところとなった。風俗習慣は変じて昔日の面影もなくなった。粉茶は全く忘れられている。明の一訓詁学者は宋代典籍の一にあげてある茶筅の形状を思い起こすに苦しんでいる。現今の茶は葉を碗に入れて湯に浸して飲むのである。西洋の諸国が古い喫茶法を知らない理由は、ヨーロッパ人は明朝の末期に茶を知ったばかりであるという事実によって説明ができるのである。
To the latter-day Chinese tea is a delicious beverage, but not an ideal. The long woes of his country have robbed him of the zest for the meaning of life. He has become modern, that is to say, old and disenchanted. He has lost that sublime faith in illusions which constitutes the eternal youth and vigour of the poets and ancients. He is an eclectic and politely accepts the traditions of the universe. He toys with Nature, but does not condescend to conquer or worship her. His Leaf-tea is often wonderful with its flower-like aroma, but the romance of the Tang and Sung ceremonials are not to be found in his cup.
後世のシナ人には、茶は美味な飲料ではあるが理想的なものではない。かの国の長い災禍は人生の意義に対する彼の強い興味を奪ってしまった。彼は現代的になった、すなわち老いて夢よりさめた。彼は詩人や古人の永遠の若さと元気を構成する幻影に対する崇高な信念を失ってしまった。彼は折衷家となって宇宙の因襲を静かに信じてこんなものだと悟っている。天をもてあそぶけれども、へりくだって天を征服しまたはこれを崇拝することはしない。彼の葉茶は花のごとき芳香を放ってしばしば驚嘆すべきものがあるが、唐宋時代の茶の湯のロマンスは彼の茶碗には見ることができない。
Japan, which followed closely on the footsteps of Chinese civilisation, has known the tea in all its three stages. As early as the year 729 we read of the Emperor Shomu giving tea to one hundred monks at his palace in Nara. The leaves were probably imported by our ambassadors to the Tang Court and prepared in the way then in fashion. In 801 the monk Saicho brought back some seeds and planted them in Yeisan. Many tea-gardens are heard of in succeeding centuries, as well as the delight of the aristocracy and priesthood in the beverage. The Sung tea reached us in 1191 with the return of Yeisai-zenji, who went there to study the southern Zen school. The new seeds which he carried home were successfully planted in three places, one of which, the Uji district near Kioto, bears still the name of producing the best tea in the world. The southern Zen spread with marvelous rapidity, and with it the tea-ritual and the tea-ideal of the Sung. By the fifteenth century, under the patronage of the Shogun, Ashikaga-Voshinasa, the tea ceremony is fully constituted and made into an independent and secular performance. Since then Teaism is fully established in Japan. The use of the steeped tea of the later China is comparatively recent among us, being only known since the middle of the seventeenth century. It has replaced the powdered tea in ordinary consumption, though the latter still continues to hold its place as the tea of teas.
日本はシナ文化の先蹤を追うて来たのであるから、この茶の三時期をことごとく知っている。早くも七二九年聖武天皇奈良の御殿において百僧に茶を賜うと書物に見えている。茶の葉はたぶん遣唐使によって輸入せられ、当時流行のたて方でたてられたものであろう。八〇一年には僧最澄茶の種を携え帰って叡山にこれを植えた。その後年を経るにしたがって貴族僧侶の愛好飲料となったのはいうまでもなく、茶園もたくさんできたということである。宋の茶は一一九一年、南方の禅を研究するために渡っていた栄西禅師の帰国とともにわが国に伝わって来た。彼の持ち帰った新種は首尾よく三か所に植え付けられ、その一か所京都に近い宇治は、今なお世にもまれなる名茶産地の名をとどめている。南宋の禅は驚くべき迅速をもって伝播し、これとともに宋の茶の儀式および茶の理想も広まって行った。十五世紀のころには将軍足利義政の奨励するところとなり、茶の湯は全く確立して、独立した世俗のことになった。爾来茶道はわが国に全く動かすべからざるものとなっている。後世のシナの煎茶は、十七世紀中葉以後わが国に知られたばかりであるから、比較的最近に使用し始めたものである。日常の使用には煎茶が粉茶に取って代わるに至った、といっても粉茶は今なお茶の中の茶としてその地歩を占めてはいるが。
It is in the Japanese tea ceremony that we see the culmination of tea-ideals. Our successful resistance of the Mongol invasion in 1281 had enabled us to carry on the Sung movement so disastrously cut off in China itself through the nomadic inroad. Tea with us became more than an idealisation of the form of drinking; it is a religion of the art of life. The beverage grew to be an excuse for the worship of purity and refinement, a sacred function at which the host and guest joined to produce for that occasion the utmost beatitude of the mundane. The tea-room was an oasis in the dreary waste of existence where weary travellers could meet to drink from the common spring of art-appreciation. The ceremony was an improvised drama whose plot was woven about the tea, the flowers, and the paintings. Not a colour to disturb the tone of the room, not a sound to mar the rhythm of things, not a gesture to obtrude on the harmony, not a word to break the unity of the surroundings, all movements to be performed simply and naturally—such were the aims of the tea-ceremony. And strangely enough it was often successful. A subtle philosophy lay behind it all. Teaism was Taoism in disguise
日本の茶の湯においてこそ始めて茶の理想の極点を見ることができるのである。一二八一年蒙古襲来に当たってわが国は首尾よくこれを撃退したために、シナ本国においては蛮族侵入のため不幸に断たれた宋の文化運動をわれわれは続行することができた。茶はわれわれにあっては飲む形式の理想化より以上のものとなった、今や茶は生の術に関する宗教である。茶は純粋と都雅を崇拝すること、すなわち主客協力して、このおりにこの浮世の姿から無上の幸福を作り出す神聖な儀式を行なう口実となった。茶室は寂寞たる人世の荒野における沃地であった。疲れた旅人はここに会して芸術鑑賞という共同の泉から渇をいやすことができた。茶の湯は、茶、花卉、絵画等を主題に仕組まれた即興劇であった。茶室の調子を破る一点の色もなく、物のリズムをそこなうそよとの音もなく、調和を乱す一指の動きもなく、四囲の統一を破る一言も発せず、すべての行動を単純に自然に行なう――こういうのがすなわち茶の湯の目的であった。そしていかにも不思議なことには、それがしばしば成功したのであった。そのすべての背後には微妙な哲理が潜んでいた。茶道は道教の仮りの姿であった。
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ChapterⅢ 第三章 （Taoism and Zennism 道教と禅道）
（read 3） （YouTube 3） （日本語訳 1）
The connection of Zennism with tea is proverbial. We have already remarked that the tea-ceremony was a development of the Zen ritual. The name of Laotse, the founder of Taoism, is also intimately associated with the history of tea. It is written in the Chinese school manual concerning the origin of habits and customs that the ceremony of offering tea to a guest began with Kwanyin, a well-known disciple of Laotse, who first at the gate of the Han Pass presented to the "Old Philosopher" a cup of the golden elixir. We shall not stop to discuss the authenticity of such tales, which are valuable, however, as confirming the early use of the beverage by the Taoists. Our interest in Taoism and Zennism here lies mainly in those ideas regarding life and art which are so embodied in what we call Teaism.
茶と禅との関係は世間周知のことである。茶の湯は禅の儀式の発達したものであるということはすでに述べたところであるが、道教の始祖老子の名もまた茶の沿革と密接な関係がある。風俗習慣の起源に関するシナの教科書に、客に茶を供するの礼は老子の高弟関尹（一八）に始まり、函谷関で「老哲人」にまず一碗の金色の仙薬をささげたと書いてある。道教の徒がつとにこの飲料を用いたことを確証するようないろいろな話の真偽をゆっくりと詮議するのも価値あることではあるが、それはさておきここでいう道教と禅道とに対する興味は、主としていわゆる茶道として実際に現われている、人生と芸術に関するそれらの思想に存するのである。
It is to be regretted that as yet there appears to be no adequate presentation of the Taoists and Zen doctrines in any foreign language, though we have had several laudable attempts.
遺憾ながら、道教徒と禅の教義とに関して、外国語で充分に表わされているものは今のところ少しもないように思われる。立派な試みはいくつかあったが（一九）。
Translation is always a treason, and as a Ming author observes, can at its best be only the reverse side of a brocade,—all the threads are there, but not the subtlety of colour or design. But, after all, what great doctrine is there which is easy to expound? The ancient sages never put their teachings in systematic form. They spoke in paradoxes, for they were afraid of uttering half-truths. They began by talking like fools and ended by making their hearers wise. Laotse himself, with his quaint humour, says, "If people of inferior intelligence hear of the Tao, they laugh immensely. It would not be the Tao unless they laughed at it."
翻訳は常に叛逆であって、明朝の一作家の言のごとく、よくいったところでただ錦の裏を見るに過ぎぬ。縦横の糸は皆あるが色彩、意匠の精妙は見られない。が、要するに容易に説明のできるところになんの大教理が存しよう。古の聖人は決してその教えに系統をたてなかった。彼らは逆説をもってこれを述べた、というのは半面の真理を伝えんことを恐れたからである。彼らの始め語るや愚者のごとく終わりに聞く者をして賢ならしめた。老子みずからその奇警な言でいうに、「下士は道を聞きて大いにこれを笑う。笑わざればもって道となすに足らず。」と。
The Tao literally means a Path. It has been severally translated as the Way, the Absolute, the Law, Nature, Supreme Reason, the Mode. These renderings are not incorrect, for the use of the term by the Taoists differs according to the subject-matter of the inquiry. Laotse himself spoke of it thus: "There is a thing which is all-containing, which was born before the existence of Heaven and Earth. How silent! How solitary! It stands alone and changes not. It revolves without danger to itself and is the mother of the universe. I do not know its name and so call it the Path. With reluctance I call it the Infinite. Infinity is the Fleeting, the Fleeting is the Vanishing, the Vanishing is the Reverting." The Tao is in the Passage rather than the Path. It is the spirit of Cosmic Change,—the eternal growth which returns upon itself to produce new forms. It recoils upon itself like the dragon, the beloved symbol of the Taoists. It folds and unfolds as do the clouds. The Tao might be spoken of as the Great Transition. Subjectively it is the Mood of the Universe. Its Absolute is the Relative.
「道」は文字どおりの意味は「径路」である。それは the Way（行路）、the Absolute（絶対）、the Law（法則）、Nature（自然）、Supreme Reason（至理）、the Mode（方式）、等いろいろに訳されている。こういう訳も誤りではない。というのは道教徒のこの言葉の用法は、問題にしている話題いかんによって異なっているから。老子みずからこれについて次のように言っている。
物有り混成し、天地に先だって生ず。寂たり寥たり。独立して改めず。周行して殆からず。もって天下の母となすべし。吾その名を知らず。これを字して道という。強いてこれが名をなして大という。大を逝といい、逝を遠といい、遠を反という。
「道」は「径路」というよりもむしろ通路にある。宇宙変遷の精神、すなわち新しい形を生み出そうとして絶えずめぐり来る永遠の成長である。「道」は道教徒の愛する象徴竜のごとくにすでに反り、雲のごとく巻ききたっては解け去る。「道」は大推移とも言うことができよう。主観的に言えば宇宙の気であって、その絶対は相対的なものである。
It should be remembered in the first place that Taoism, like its legitimate successor Zennism, represents the individualistic trend of the Southern Chinese mind in contra-distinction to the communism of Northern China which expressed itself in Confucianism. The Middle Kingdom is as vast as Europe and has a differentiation of idiosyncrasies marked by the two great river systems which traverse it. The Yangtse-Kiang and Hoang-Ho are respectively the Mediterranean and the Baltic. Even to-day, in spite of centuries of unification, the Southern Celestial differs in his thoughts and beliefs from his Northern brother as a member of the Latin race differs from the Teuton. In ancient days, when communication was even more difficult than at present, and especially during the feudal period, this difference in thought was most pronounced. The art and poetry of the one breathes an atmosphere entirely distinct from that of the other. In Laotse and his followers and in Kutsugen, the forerunner of the Yangtse-Kiang nature-poets, we find an idealism quite inconsistent with the prosaic ethical notions of their contemporary northern writers. Laotse lived five centuries before the Christian Era.
まず第一に記憶すべきは、道教はその正統の継承者禅道と同じく、南方シナ精神の個人的傾向を表わしていて、儒教という姿で現われている北方シナの社会的思想とは対比的に相違があるということである。中国はその広漠たることヨーロッパに比すべく、これを貫流する二大水系によって分かたれた固有の特質を備えている。揚子江と黄河はそれぞれ地中海とバルト海である。幾世紀の統一を経た今日でも南方シナはその思想、信仰が北方の同胞と異なること、ラテン民族がチュートン民族とこれを異にすると同様である。古代交通が今日よりもなおいっそう困難であった時代、特に封建時代においては思想上のこの差異はことに著しいものであった。一方の美術、詩歌の表わす気分は他方のものと全く異なったものである。老子とその徒および揚子江畔自然詩人の先駆者屈原の思想は、同時代北方作家の無趣味な道徳思想とは全く相容れない一種の理想主義である。老子は西暦紀元前四世紀の人である。
The germ of Taoist speculation may be found long before the advent of Laotse, surnamed the Long-Eared. The archaic records of China, especially the Book of Changes, foreshadow his thought. But the great respect paid to the laws and customs of that classic period of Chinese civilisation which culminated with the establishment of the Chow dynasty in the sixteenth century B.C., kept the development of individualism in check for a long while, so that it was not until after the disintegration of the Chow dynasty and the establishment of innumerable independent kingdoms that it was able to blossom forth in the luxuriance of free-thought. Laotse and Soshi (Chuangtse) were both Southerners and the greatest exponents of the New School. On the other hand, Confucius with his numerous disciples aimed at retaining ancestral conventions. Taoism cannot be understood without some knowledge of Confucianism and vice versa.
道教思想の萌芽は老〇出現の遠い以前に見られる。シナ古代の記録、特に易経は老子の思想の先駆をなしている。しかし紀元前十二世紀、周朝の確立とともに古代シナ文化は隆盛その極に達し、法律慣習が大いに重んぜられたために、個人的思想の発達は長い間阻止せられていた。周崩解して無数の独立国起こるにおよび、始めて自由思想がはなやかに咲き誇ることができた。老子荘子は共に南方人で新派の大主唱者であった。一方孔子はその多くの門弟とともに古来の伝統を保守せんと志したものである。道教を解せんとするには多少儒教の心得がいる。この逆も同じである。
We have said that the Taoist Absolute was the Relative. In ethics the Taoist railed at the laws and the moral codes of society, for to them right and wrong were but relative terms. Definition is always limitation—the "fixed" and "unchangeless" are but terms expressive of a stoppage of growth. Said Kuzugen,—"The Sages move the world." Our standards of morality are begotten of the past needs of society, but is society to remain always the same? The observance of communal traditions involves a constant sacrifice of the individual to the state. Education, in order to keep up the mighty delusion, encourages a species of ignorance. People are not taught to be really virtuous, but to behave properly. We are wicked because we are frightfully self-conscious. We nurse a conscience because we are afraid to tell the truth to others; we take refuge in pride because we are afraid to tell the truth to ourselves. How can one be serious with the world when the world itself is so ridiculous! The spirit of barter is everywhere. Honour and Chastity! Behold the complacent salesman retailing the Good and True. One can even buy a so-called Religion, which is really but common morality sanctified with flowers and music. Rob the Church of her accessories and what remains behind? Yet the trusts thrive marvelously, for the prices are absurdly cheap,—a prayer for a ticket to heaven, a diploma for an honourable citizenship. Hide yourself under a bushel quickly, for if your real usefulness were known to the world you would soon be knocked down to the highest bidder by the public auctioneer. Why do men and women like to advertise themselves so much? Is it not but an instinct derived from the days of slavery?
道教でいう絶対は相対であることは、すでに述べたところであるが、倫理学においては道教徒は社会の法律道徳を罵倒した。というのは彼らにとっては正邪善悪は単なる相対的の言葉であったから。定義は常に制限である。「一定」「不変」は単に成長停止を表わす言葉に過ぎない。屈原いわく「聖人はよく世とともに推移す。」われらの道徳的規範は社会の過去の必要から生まれたものであるが、社会は依然として旧態にとどまるべきものであろうか。社会の慣習を守るためには、その国に対して個人を絶えず犠牲にすることを免れぬ。教育はその大迷想を続けんがために一種の無知を奨励する。人は真に徳行ある人たることを教えられずして行儀正しくせよと教えられる。われらは恐ろしく自己意識が強いから不道徳を行なう。おのれ自身が悪いと知っているから人を決して許さない。他人に真実を語ることを恐れているから良心をはぐくみ、おのれに真実を語るを恐れてうぬぼれを避難所にする。世の中そのものがばかばかしいのにだれがよくまじめでいられよう！ といい、物々交換の精神は至るところに現われている。義だ！ 貞節だ！ などというが、真善の小売りをして悦に入っている販売人を見よ。人はいわゆる宗教さえもあがなうことができる。それは実のところたかの知れた倫理学を花や音楽で清めたもの。教会からその付属物を取り去ってみよ、あとに何が残るか。しかしトラスト（二〇）は不思議なほど繁盛する、値段が途方もなく安いから――天国へ行く切符代の御祈祷も、立派な公民の免許状も。めいめい速く能を隠すがよい。もしほんとうに重宝だと世間へ知れたならば、すぐに競売に出されて最高入札者の手に落とされよう。男も女も何ゆえにかほど自己を広告したいのか。奴隷制度の昔に起源する一種の本能に過ぎないのではないか。
The virility of the idea lies not less in its power of breaking through contemporary thought than in its capacity for dominating subsequent movements. Taoism was an active power during the Shin dynasty, that epoch of Chinese unification from which we derive the name China. It would be interesting had we time to note its influence on contemporary thinkers, the mathematicians, writers on law and war, the mystics and alchemists and the later nature-poets of the Yangtse-Kiang. We should not even ignore those speculators on Reality who doubted whether a white horse was real because he was white, or because he was solid, nor the Conversationalists of the Six dynasties who, like the Zen philosophers, revelled in discussions concerning the Pure and the Abstract. Above all we should pay homage to Taoism for what it has done toward the formation of the Celestial character, giving to it a certain capacity for reserve and refinement as "warm as jade." Chinese history is full of instances in which the votaries of Taoism, princes and hermits alike, followed with varied and interesting results the teachings of their creed. The tale will not be without its quota of instruction and amusement. It will be rich in anecdotes, allegories, and aphorisms. We would fain be on speaking terms with the delightful emperor who never died because he had never lived. We may ride the wind with Liehtse and find it absolutely quiet because we ourselves are the wind, or dwell in mid-air with the Aged one of the Hoang-Ho, who lived betwixt Heaven and Earth because he was subject to neither the one nor the other. Even in that grotesque apology for Taoism which we find in China at the present day, we can revel in a wealth of imagery impossible to find in any other cult.
道教思想の雄渾なところは、その後続いて起こった種々の運動を支配したその力にも見られるが、それに劣らず、同時代の思想を切り抜けたその力に存している。秦朝、といえばシナという名もこれに由来しているかの統一時代であるが、その朝を通じて道教は一活動力であった。もし時の余裕があれば、道教がその時代の思想家、数学家、法律家、兵法家、神秘家、錬金術家および後の江畔自然詩人らに及ぼした影響を注意して見るのも興味あることであろう。また白馬は白く、あるいは堅きがゆえにその実在いかんを疑った実在論者（二一）や、禅門のごとく清浄、絶対について談論した六朝の清談家も無視することはできぬ。なかんずく、道教がシナ国民性の形成に寄与したところ、「温なること玉のごとし」という慎み、上品の力を与えた点に対して敬意を表すべきである。シナ歴史は、熱心な道教信者が王侯も隠者も等しく彼らの信条の教えに従って、いろいろな興味深い結果をもたらした実例に満ち満ちている。その物語には必ずその持ち前の楽しみもあり教訓もあろう。逸話、寓言、警句も豊かにあろう。生きていたことがないから死んだこともないあの愉快な皇帝と、求めても言葉をかわすくらいの間がらになりたいものである。列子とともに風に御して寂静無為を味わうこともできよう、われらみずから風であり、天にも属せず地にも属せず、その中間に住した河上の老人とともに中空にいるものであるから。現今のシナに見る、かの奇怪な、名ばかりの道教においてさえも、他の何道にも見ることのできないたくさんの比喩を楽しむことができるのである。
But the chief contribution of Taoism to Asiatic life has been in the realm of aesthetics. Chinese historians have always spoken of Taoism as the "art of being in the world," for it deals with the present—ourselves. It is in us that God meets with Nature, and yesterday parts from to-morrow. The Present is the moving Infinity, the legitimate sphere of the Relative. Relativity seeks Adjustment; Adjustment is Art. The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings. Taoism accepts the mundane as it is and, unlike the Confucians or the Buddhists, tries to find beauty in our world of woe and worry. The Sung allegory of the Three Vinegar Tasters explains admirably the trend of the three doctrines. Sakyamuni, Confucius, and Laotse once stood before a jar of vinegar—the emblem of life—and each dipped in his finger to taste the brew. The matter-of-fact Confucius found it sour, the Buddha called it bitter, and Laotse pronounced it sweet.
しかしながら、道教がアジア人の生活に対してなしたおもな貢献は美学の領域であった。シナの歴史家は道教のことを常に「処世術」と呼んでいる、というのは道教は現在を――われら自身を取り扱うものであるから。われらこそ神と自然の相会うところ、きのうとあすの分かれるところである。「現在」は移動する「無窮」である。「相対性」の合法な活動範囲である。「相対性」は「安排」を求める。「安排」は「術」である。人生の術はわれらの環境に対して絶えず安排するにある。道教は浮世をこんなものだとあきらめて、儒教徒や仏教徒とは異なって、この憂き世の中にも美を見いだそうと努めている。宋代のたとえ話に「三人の酢を味わう者」というのがあるが、三教義の傾向を実に立派に説明している。昔、釈迦牟尼、孔子、老子が人生の象徴酢瓶の前に立って、おのおの指をつけてそれを味わった。実際的な孔子はそれが酸いと知り、仏陀はそれを苦いと呼び、老子はそれを甘いと言った。
The Taoists claimed that the comedy of life could be made more interesting if everyone would preserve the unities. To keep the proportion of things and give place to others without losing one's own position was the secret of success in the mundane drama. We must know the whole play in order to properly act our parts; the conception of totality must never be lost in that of the individual. This Laotse illustrates by his favourite metaphor of the Vacuum. He claimed that only in vacuum lay the truly essential. The reality of a room, for instance, was to be found in the vacant space enclosed by the roof and the walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, not in the form of the pitcher or the material of which it was made. Vacuum is all potent because all containing. In vacuum alone motion becomes possible. One who could make of himself a vacuum into which others might freely enter would become master of all situations. The whole can always dominate the part.
道教徒は主張した。もしだれもかれも皆が統一を保つようにするならば人生の喜劇はなおいっそうおもしろくすることができると。物のつりあいを保って、おのれの地歩を失わず他人に譲ることが浮世芝居の成功の秘訣である。われわれはおのれの役を立派に勤めるためには、その芝居全体を知っていなければならぬ。個人を考えるために全体を考えることを忘れてはならない。この事を老子は「虚」という得意の隠喩で説明している。物の真に肝要なところはただ虚にのみ存すると彼は主張した。たとえば室の本質は、屋根と壁に囲まれた空虚なところに見いだすことができるのであって、屋根や壁そのものにはない。水さしの役に立つところは水を注ぎ込むことのできる空所にあって、その形状や製品のいかんには存しない。虚はすべてのものを含有するから万能である。虚においてのみ運動が可能となる。おのれを虚にして他を自由に入らすことのできる人は、すべての立場を自由に行動することができるようになるであろう。全体は常に部分を支配することができるのである。
He who had made himself master of the art of living was the Real man of the Taoist. At birth he enters the realm of dreams only to awaken to reality at death. He tempers his own brightness in order to merge himself into the obscurity of others. He is "reluctant, as one who crosses a stream in winter; hesitating as one who fears the neighbourhood; respectful, like a guest; trembling, like ice that is about to melt; unassuming, like a piece of wood not yet carved; vacant, like a valley; formless, like troubled waters." To him the three jewels of life were Pity, Economy, and Modesty.
道教徒のこういう考え方は、剣道相撲の理論に至るまで、動作のあらゆる理論に非常な影響を及ぼした。日本の自衛術である柔術はその名を道徳経の中の一句に借りている。柔術では無抵抗すなわち虚によって敵の力を出し尽くそうと努め、一方おのれの力は最後の奮闘に勝利を得るために保存しておく。芸術においても同一原理の重要なことが暗示の価値によってわかる。何物かを表わさずにおくところに、見る者はその考えを完成する機会を与えられる。かようにして大傑作は人の心を強くひきつけてついには人が実際にその作品の一部分となるように思われる。虚は美的感情の極致までも入って満たせとばかりに人を待っている。
If now we turn our attention to Zennism we shall find that it emphasises the teachings of Taoism. Zen is a name derived from the Sanscrit word Dhyana, which signifies meditation. It claims that through consecrated meditation may be attained supreme self-realisation. Meditation is one of the six ways through which Buddhahood may be reached, and the Zen sectarians affirm that Sakyamuni laid special stress on this method in his later teachings, handing down the rules to his chief disciple Kashiapa. According to their tradition Kashiapa, the first Zen patriarch, imparted the secret to Ananda, who in turn passed it on to successive patriarchs until it reached Bodhi-Dharma, the twenty-eighth. Bodhi-Dharma came to Northern China in the early half of the sixth century and was the first patriarch of Chinese Zen. There is much uncertainty about the history of these patriarchs and their doctrines. In its philosophical aspect early Zennism seems to have affinity on one hand to the Indian Negativism of Nagarjuna and on the other to the Gnan philosophy formulated by Sancharacharya. The first teaching of Zen as we know it at the present day must be attributed to the sixth Chinese patriarch Yeno(637-713), founder of Southern Zen, so-called from the fact of its predominance in Southern China. He is closely followed by the great Baso(died 788) who made of Zen a living influence in Celestial life. Hiakujo(719-814) the pupil of Baso, first instituted the Zen monastery and established a ritual and regulations for its government. In the discussions of the Zen school after the time of Baso we find the play of the Yangtse-Kiang mind causing an accession of native modes of thought in contrast to the former Indian idealism. Whatever sectarian pride may assert to the contrary one cannot help being impressed by the similarity of Southern Zen to the teachings of Laotse and the Taoist Conversationalists. In the Tao-teking we already find allusions to the importance of self-concentration and the need of properly regulating the breath—essential points in the practice of Zen meditation. Some of the best commentaries on the Book of Laotse have been written by Zen scholars.
生の術をきわめた人は、道教徒の言うところの「士」であった。士は生まれると夢の国に入る、ただ死に当たって現実にめざめようとするように。おのが身を世に知れず隠さんために、みずからの聡明の光を和らげ、「予として冬、川を渉るがごとく、猶として四隣をおそるるがごとく、儼としてそれ客のごとく、渙として冰のまさに釈けんとするがごとく、敦としてそれ樸のごとく、曠としてそれ谷のごとく、渾としてそれ濁るがごとし（二二）。」士にとって人生の三宝は、慈、倹、および「あえて天下の先とならず（二三）。」ということであった。
さて禅に注意を向けてみると、それは道教の教えを強調していることがわかるであろう。禅は梵語の禅那（Dhyana）から出た名であってその意味は静慮である。精進静慮することによって、自性了解の極致に達することができると禅は主張する。静慮は悟道に入ることのできる六波羅密の一つであって、釈迦牟尼はその後年の教えにおいて、特にこの方法を力説し、六則をその高弟迦葉に伝えたと禅宗徒は確言している。かれらの言い伝えによれば、禅の始祖迦葉はその奥義を阿難陀に伝え、阿難陀から順次に祖師相伝えてついに第二十八祖菩提達磨に至った。菩提達磨は六世紀の前半に北シナに渡ってシナ禅宗の第一祖となった。これらの祖師やその教理の歴史については不確実なところが多い。禅を哲学的に見れば昔の禅学は一方において那伽閼剌樹那（二四）のインド否定論に似ており、また他方においては商羯羅阿闍梨の組み立てた無明観（二六）に似たところがあるように思われる。今日われらの知っているとおりの禅の教理は南方禅（南方シナに勢力があったことからそういわれる）の開山シナの第六祖慧能（六三七―七一三）が始めて説いたに違いない。慧能の後、ほどなく馬祖大師（七八八滅）これを継いで禅を中国人の生活における一活動勢力に作りあげた。馬祖の弟子百丈（七一九―八一四）は禅宗叢林を開創し、禅林清規を制定した。馬祖の時代以後の禅宗の問答を見ると、揚子江岸精神の影響をこうむって、昔のインド理想主義とはきわ立って違ったシナ固有の考え方を増していることがわかる。いかほど宗派的精神の誇りが強くて、そうではないといったところで、南方禅が老子や清談家の教えに似ていることを感じないわけにはいかない。道徳経の中にすでに精神集中の重要なことや気息を適当に調節することを述べている――これは禅定に入るに必要欠くべからざる要件である。道徳経の良注釈の或るものは禅学者によって書かれたものである。
Zennism, like Taoism, is the worship of Relativity. One master defines Zen as the art of feeling the polar star in the southern sky. Truth can be reached only through the comprehension of opposites. Again, Zennism, like Taoism, is a strong advocate of individualism. Nothing is real except that which concerns the working of our own minds. Yeno, the sixth patriarch, once saw two monks watching the flag of a pagoda fluttering in the wind. One said "It is the wind that moves," the other said "It is the flag that moves"; but Yeno explained to them that the real movement was neither of the wind nor the flag, but of something within their own minds. Hiakujo was walking in the forest with a disciple when a hare scurried off at their approach. "Why does the hare fly from you?" asked Hiakujo. "Because he is afraid of me," was the answer. "No," said the master, "it is because you have murderous instinct." The dialogue recalls that of Soshi (Chaungtse), the Taoist. One day Soshi was walking on the bank of a river with a friend. "How delightfully the fishes are enjoying themselves in the water!" exclaimed Soshi. His friend spake to him thus: "You are not a fish; how do you know that the fishes are enjoying themselves?" "You are not myself," returned Soshi; "how do you know that I do not know that the fishes are enjoying themselves?"
禅道は道教と同じく相対を崇拝するものである。ある禅師は禅を定義して南天に北極星を識るの術といっている。真理は反対なものを会得することによってのみ達せられる。さらに禅道は道教と同じく個性主義を強く唱道した。われらみずからの精神の働きに関係しないものはいっさい実在ではない。六祖慧能かつて二僧が風に翻る塔上の幡を見て対論するのを見た。「一はいわく幡動くと。一はいわく風動くと。」しかし、慧能は彼らに説明して言った、これ風の動くにあらずまた幡の動くにもあらずただ彼らみずからの心中のある物の動くなりと。百丈が一人の弟子と森の中を歩いていると一匹の兎が彼らの近寄ったのを知って疾走し去った。「なぜ兎はおまえから逃げ去ったのか。」と百丈が尋ねると、「私を恐れてでしょう。」と答えた。祖師は言った、「そうではない、おまえに残忍性があるからだ。」と。この対話は道教の徒荘子の話を思い起させる。ある日荘子友と濠梁のほとりに遊んだ。荘子いわく「いで遊びて従容たり。これ魚の楽しむなり。」と。その友彼に答えていわく「子は魚にあらず。いずくんぞ魚の楽しきを知らん。」と。「子は我れにあらず、いずくんぞわが魚の楽しきを知らざるを知らん。」と荘子は答えた。
Zen was often opposed to the precepts of orthodox Buddhism even as Taoism was opposed to Confucianism. To the transcendental insight of the Zen, words were but an incumbrance to thought; the whole sway of Buddhist scriptures only commentaries on personal speculation. The followers of Zen aimed at direct communion with the inner nature of things, regarding their outward accessories only as impediments to a clear perception of Truth. It was this love of the Abstract that led the Zen to prefer black and white sketches to the elaborately coloured paintings of the classic Buddhist School. Some of the Zen even became iconoclastic as a result of their endeavor to recognise the Buddha in themselves rather than through images and symbolism. We find Tankawosho breaking up a wooden statue of Buddha on a wintry day to make a fire. "What sacrilege!" said the horror-stricken bystander. "I wish to get the Shali out of the ashes," calmly rejoined the Zen. "But you certainly will not get Shali from this image!" was the angry retort, to which Tanka replied, "If I do not, this is certainly not a Buddha and I am committing no sacrilege." Then he turned to warm himself over the kindling fire.
禅は正統の仏道の教えとしばしば相反した、ちょうど道教が儒教と相反したように。禅門の徒の先験的洞察に対しては言語はただ思想の妨害となるものであった。仏典のあらん限りの力をもってしてもただ個人的思索の注釈に過ぎないのである。禅門の徒は事物の内面的精神と直接交通しようと志し、その外面的の付属物はただ真理に到達する阻害と見なした。この絶対を愛する精神こそは禅門の徒をして古典仏教派の精巧な彩色画よりも墨絵の略画を選ばしめるに至ったのである。禅学徒の中には、偶像や象徴によらないでおのれの中に仏陀を認めようと努めた結果、偶像破壊主義者になったものさえある。丹霞和尚は大寒の日に木仏を取ってこれを焚いたという話がある。かたわらにいた人は非常に恐れて言った、「なんとまあもったいない！」と。和尚は落ち着き払って答えた、「わしは仏様を焼いて、お前さんたちのありがたがっているお舎利を取るのだ。」「木仏の頭からお舎利が出てたまるものですか。」とつっけんどんな受け答えに、丹霞和尚がこたえて言った、「もし、お舎利の出ない仏様なら、何ももったいないことはないではないか。」そう言って振り向いてたき火にからだをあたためた。
A special contribution of Zen to Eastern thought was its recognition of the mundane as of equal importance with the spiritual. It held that in the great relation of things there was no distinction of small and great, an atom possessing equal possibilities with the universe. The seeker for perfection must discover in his own life the reflection of the inner light. The organisation of the Zen monastery was very significant of this point of view. To every member, except the abbot, was assigned some special work in the caretaking of the monastery, and curiously enough, to the novices was committed the lighter duties, while to the most respected and advanced monks were given the more irksome and menial tasks. Such services formed a part of the Zen discipline and every least action must be done absolutely perfectly. Thus many a weighty discussion ensued while weeding the garden, paring a turnip, or serving tea. The whole ideal of Teaism is a result of this Zen conception of greatness in the smallest incidents of life. Taoism furnished the basis for aesthetic ideals, Zennism made them practical.
禅の東洋思想に対する特殊な寄与は、この現世の事をも後生のことと同じように重く認めたことである。禅の主張によれば、事物の大相対性から見れば大と小との区別はなく、一原子の中にも大宇宙と等しい可能性がある。極致を求めんとする者はおのれみずからの生活の中に霊光の反映を発見しなければならぬ。禅林の組織はこういう見地から非常に意味深いものであった。祖師を除いて禅僧はことごとく禅林の世話に関する何か特別の仕事を課せられた。そして妙なことには新参者には比較的軽い務めを与えられたが、非常に立派な修行を積んだ僧には比較的うるさい下賤な仕事が課せられた。こういう勤めが禅修行の一部をなしたものであって、いかなる些細な行動も絶対完全に行なわなければならないのであった。こういうふうにして、庭の草をむしりながらでも、蕪菁を切りながらでも、またはお茶をくみながらでも、いくつもいくつも重要な論議が次から次へと行なわれた。茶道いっさいの理想は、人生の些事の中にでも偉大を考えるというこの禅の考えから出たものである。道教は審美的理想の基礎を与え禅はこれを実際的なものとした。
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第四章 茶室
（read 4） （YouTube 4） （日本語訳 1）
To European architects brought up on the traditions of stone and brick construction, our Japanese method of building with wood and bamboo seems scarcely worthy to be ranked as architecture. It is but quite recently that a competent student of Western architecture has recognised and paid tribute to the remarkable perfection of our great temples. Such being the case as regards our classic architecture, we could hardly expect the outsider to appreciate the subtle beauty of the tea-room, its principles of construction and decoration being entirely different from those of the West.
石造や煉瓦造り建築の伝統によって育てられた欧州建築家の目には、木材や竹を用いるわが日本式建築法は建築としての部類に入れる価値はほとんどないように思われる。ある相当立派な西洋建築の研究家がわが国の大社寺の実に完備していることを認め、これを称揚したのは全くほんの最近のことである。わが国で一流の建築についてこういう事情であるから、西洋とは全く趣を異にする茶室の微妙な美しさ、その建築の原理および装飾が門外漢に充分にわかろうとはまず予期できないことである。
The tea-room (the Sukiya) does not pretend to be other than a mere cottage—a straw hut, as we call it. The original ideographs for Sukiya mean the Abode of Fancy. Latterly the various tea-masters substituted various Chinese characters according to their conception of the tea-room, and the term Sukiya may signify the Abode of Vacancy or the Abode of the Unsymmetrical. It is an Abode of Fancy inasmuch as it is an ephemeral structure built to house a poetic impulse. It is an Abode of Vacancy inasmuch as it is devoid of ornamentation except for what may be placed in it to satisfy some aesthetic need of the moment. It is an Abode of the Unsymmetrical inasmuch as it is consecrated to the worship of the Imperfect, purposely leaving some thing unfinished for the play of the imagination to complete. The ideals of Teaism have since the sixteenth century influenced our architecture to such degree that the ordinary Japanese interior of the present day, on account of the extreme simplicity and chasteness of its scheme of decoration, appears to foreigners almost barren.
茶室（数寄屋）は単なる小家で、それ以外のものをてらうものではない、いわゆる茅屋に過ぎない。数寄屋の原義は「好き家」である。後になっていろいろな宗匠が茶室に対するそれぞれの考えに従っていろいろな漢字を置き換えた、そして数寄屋という語は「空き家」または「数奇家」の意味にもなる。それは詩趣を宿すための仮りの住み家であるからには「好き家」である。さしあたって、ある美的必要を満たすためにおく物のほかは、いっさいの装飾を欠くからには「空き家」である。それは「不完全崇拝」にささげられ、故意に何かを仕上げずにおいて、想像の働きにこれを完成させるからには「数奇家」である。茶道の理想は十六世紀以来わが建築術に非常な影響を及ぼしたので、今日、日本の普通の家屋の内部はその装飾の配合が極端に簡素なため、外国人にはほとんど没趣味なものに見える。
The first independent tea-room was the creation of Senno-Soyeki, commonly known by his later name of Rikiu, the greatest of all tea-masters, who, in the sixteenth century, under the patronage of Taiko-Hideyoshi, instituted and brought to a high state of perfection the formalities of the Tea-ceremony. The proportions of the tea-room had been previously determined by Jowo—a famous tea-master of the fifteenth century. The early tea-room consisted merely of a portion of the ordinary drawing-room partitioned off by screens for the purpose of the tea-gathering. The portion partitioned off was called the Kakoi (enclosure), a name still applied to those tea-rooms which are built into a house and are not independent constructions. The Sukiya consists of the tea-room proper, designed to accommodate not more than five persons, a number suggestive of the saying "more than the Graces and less than the Muses," an anteroom (midsuya) where the tea utensils are washed and arranged before being brought in, a portico (machiai) in which the guests wait until they receive the summons to enter the tea-room, and a garden path (the roji) which connects the machiai with the tea-room. The tea-room is unimpressive in appearance. It is smaller than the smallest of Japanese houses, while the materials used in its construction are intended to give the suggestion of refined poverty. Yet we must remember that all this is the result of profound artistic forethought, and that the details have been worked out with care perhaps even greater than that expended on the building of the richest palaces and temples. A good tea-room is more costly than an ordinary mansion, for the selection of its materials, as well as its workmanship, requires immense care and precision. Indeed, the carpenters employed by the tea-masters form a distinct and highly honoured class among artisans, their work being no less delicate than that of the makers of lacquer cabinets.
始めて独立した茶室を建てたのは千宗易、すなわち後に利休という名で普通に知られている大宗匠で、彼は十六世紀太閤秀吉の愛顧をこうむり、茶の湯の儀式を定めてこれを完成の域に達せしめた。茶室の広さはその以前に十五世紀の有名な宗匠紹鴎によって定められていた。初期の茶室はただ普通の客間の一部分を茶の会のために屏風で仕切ったものであった。その仕切った部分は「かこい」と呼ばれた。その名は、家の中に作られていて独立した建物ではない茶室へ今もなお用いられている。数寄屋は、「グレイスの神よりは多く、ミューズの神よりは少ない。」という句を思い出させるような五人しかはいれないしくみの茶室本部と、茶器を持ち込む前に洗ってそろえておく控えの間（水屋）と、客が茶室へはいれと呼ばれるまで待っている玄関（待合）と、待合と茶室を連絡している庭の小道（露地）とから成っている。茶室は見たところなんの印象も与えない。それは日本のいちばん狭い家よりも狭い。それにその建築に用いられている材料は、清貧を思わせるようにできている。しかしこれはすべて深遠な芸術的思慮の結果であって、細部に至るまで、立派な宮殿寺院を建てるに費やす以上の周到な注意をもって細工が施されているということを忘れてはならない。よい茶室は普通の邸宅以上に費用がかかる、というのはその細工はもちろんその材料の選択に多大の注意と綿密を要するから。実際茶人に用いられる大工は、職人の中でも特殊な、非常に立派な部類を成している。彼らの仕事は漆器家具匠の仕事にも劣らぬ精巧なものであるから。
The tea-room is not only different from any production of Western architecture, but also contrasts strongly with the classical architecture of Japan itself. Our ancient noble edifices, whether secular or ecclesiastical, were not to be despised even as regards their mere size. The few that have been spared in the disastrous conflagrations of centuries are still capable of aweing us by the grandeur and richness of their decoration. Huge pillars of wood from two to three feet in diameter and from thirty to forty feet high, supported, by a complicated network of brackets, the enormous beams which groaned under the weight of the tile-covered roofs. The material and mode of construction, though weak against fire, proved itself strong against earthquakes, and was well suited to the climatic conditions of the country. In the Golden Hall of Horiuji and the Pagoda of Yakushiji, we have noteworthy examples of the durability of our wooden architecture. These buildings have practically stood intact for nearly twelve centuries. The interior of the old temples and palaces was profusely decorated. In the Hoodo temple at Uji, dating from the tenth century, we can still see the elaborate canopy and gilded baldachinos, many-coloured and inlaid with mirrors and mother-of-pearl, as well as remains of the paintings and sculpture which formerly covered the walls. Later, at Nikko and in the Nijo castle in Kyoto, we see structural beauty sacrificed to a wealth of ornamentation which in colour and exquisite detail equals the utmost gorgeousness of Arabian or Moorish effort.
茶室はただに西洋のいずれの建築物とも異なるのみならず、日本そのものの古代建築とも著しい対照をなしている。わが国古代の立派な建築物は宗教に関係あるものもないものも、その大きさだけから言っても侮りがたいものであった。数世紀の間不幸な火災を免れて来たわずかの建築物は、今なおその装飾の壮大華麗によって、人に畏敬の念をおこさせる力がある。直径二尺から三尺、高さ三十尺から四十尺の巨柱は、複雑な腕木の網状細工によって、斜めの瓦屋根の重みにうなっている巨大な梁をささえていた。建築の材料や方法は、火に対しては弱いけれども地震には強いということがわかった。そしてわが国の気候によく適していた。法隆寺の金堂や薬師寺の塔は木造建築の耐久性を示す注目すべき実例である。これらの建物は十二世紀の間事実上そのまま保全せられていた。古い宮殿や寺の内部は惜しげもなく装飾を施されていた。十世紀にできた宇治の鳳凰堂には今もなお昔の壁画彫刻の遺物はもとより、丹精をこらした天蓋、金を蒔き鏡や真珠をちりばめた廟蓋を見ることができる。後になって、日光や京都二条の城においては、アラビア式またはムーア式華麗をつくした力作にも等しいような色彩の美や精巧をきわめたたくさんの装飾のために、建築構造の美が犠牲にせられているのを見る。
The simplicity and purism of the tea-room resulted from emulation of the Zen monastery. A Zen monastery differs from those of other Buddhist sects inasmuch as it is meant only to be a dwelling place for the monks. Its chapel is not a place of worship or pilgrimage, but a college room where the students congregate for discussion and the practice of meditation. The room is bare except for a central alcove in which, behind the altar, is a statue of Bodhi Dharma, the founder of the sect, or of Sakyamuni attended by Kashiapa and Ananda, the two earliest Zen patriarchs. On the altar, flowers and incense are offered up in the memory of the great contributions which these sages made to Zen. We have already said that it was the ritual instituted by the Zen monks of successively drinking tea out of a bowl before the image of Bodhi Dharma, which laid the foundations of the tea-ceremony. We might add here that the altar of the Zen chapel was the prototype of the Tokonoma,—the place of honour in a Japanese room where paintings and flowers are placed for the edification of the guests.
茶室の簡素清浄は禅院の競いからおこったものである。禅院は他の宗派のものと異なってただ僧の住所として作られている。その会堂は礼拝巡礼の場所ではなくて、禅修行者が会合して討論し黙想する道場である。その室は、中央の壁の凹所、仏壇の後ろに禅宗の開祖菩提達磨の像か、または祖師迦葉と阿難陀をしたがえた釈迦牟尼の像があるのを除いてはなんの飾りもない。仏壇には、これら聖者の禅に対する貢献を記念して香華がささげてある。茶の湯の基をなしたものはほかではない、菩提達磨の像の前で同じ碗から次々に茶を喫むという禅僧たちの始めた儀式であったということはすでに述べたところである。が、さらにここに付言してよかろうと思われることは禅院の仏壇は、床の間――絵や花を置いて客を教化する日本間の上座――の原型であったということである。
All our great tea-masters were students of Zen and attempted to introduce the spirit of Zennism into the actualities of life. Thus the room, like the other equipments of the tea-ceremony, reflects many of the Zen doctrines. The size of the orthodox tea-room, which is four mats and a half, or ten feet square, is determined by a passage in the Sutra of Vikramadytia. In that interesting work, Vikramadytia welcomes the Saint Manjushiri and eighty-four thousand disciples of Buddha in a room of this size,—an allegory based on the theory of the non-existence of space to the truly enlightened. Again the roji, the garden path which leads from the machiai to the tea-room, signified the first stage of meditation,—the passage into self-illumination. The roji was intended to break connection with the outside world, and produce a fresh sensation conducive to the full enjoyment of aestheticism in the tea-room itself. One who has trodden this garden path cannot fail to remember how his spirit, as he walked in the twilight of evergreens over the regular irregularities of the stepping stones, beneath which lay dried pine needles, and passed beside the moss-covered granite lanterns, became uplifted above ordinary thoughts. One may be in the midst of a city, and yet feel as if he were in the forest far away from the dust and din of civilisation. Great was the ingenuity displayed by the tea-masters in producing these effects of serenity and purity. The nature of the sensations to be aroused in passing through the roji differed with different tea-masters. Some, like Rikiu, aimed at utter loneliness, and claimed the secret of making a roji was contained in the ancient ditty:
わが国の偉い茶人は皆禅を修めた人であった。そして禅の精神を現実生活の中へ入れようと企てた。こういうわけで茶室は茶の湯の他の設備と同様に禅の教義を多く反映している。正統の茶室の広さは四畳半で維摩の経文の一節によって定められている。その興味ある著作において、馥柯羅摩訶秩多（二七）は文珠師利菩薩と八万四千の仏陀の弟子をこの狭い室に迎えている。これすなわち真に覚った者には一切皆空という理論に基づくたとえ話である。さらに待合から茶室に通ずる露地は黙想の第一階段、すなわち自己照明に達する通路を意味していた。露地は外界との関係を断って、茶室そのものにおいて美的趣味を充分に味わう助けとなるように、新しい感情を起こすためのものであった。この庭径を踏んだことのある人は、常緑樹の薄明に、下には松葉の散りしくところを、調和ある不ぞろいな庭石の上を渡って、苔むした石燈籠のかたわらを過ぎる時、わが心のいかに高められたかを必ず思い出すであろう。たとえ都市のまん中にいてもなお、あたかも文明の雑踏や塵を離れた森の中にいるような感がする。こういう静寂純潔の効果を生ぜしめた茶人の巧みは実に偉いものであった。露地を通り過ぎる時に起こすべき感情の性質は茶人によっていろいろ違っていた。利休のような人たちは全くの静寂を目的とし、露地を作るの奥意は次の古歌の中にこもっていると主張した（二八）。
"I look beyond; Flowers are not, Nor tinted leaves. On the sea beach A solitary cottage stands In the waning light Of an autumn eve."
見渡せば花ももみじもなかりけり
浦のとまやの秋の夕暮れ（二九）
Others, like Kobori-Enshiu, sought for a different effect. Enshiu said the idea of the garden path was to be found in the following verses:
その他小堀遠州のような人々はまた別の効果を求めた。遠州は庭径の着想は次の句の中にあると言った。
"A cluster of summer trees, A bit of the sea, A pale evening moon."
夕月夜海すこしある木の間かな（三〇）
It is not difficult to gather his meaning. He wished to create the attitude of a newly awakened soul still lingering amid shadowy dreams of the past, yet bathing in the sweet unconsciousness of a mellow spiritual light, and yearning for the freedom that lay in the expanse beyond.
彼の意味を推測するのは難くない。彼は、影のような過去の夢の中になおさまよいながらも、やわらかい霊光の無我の境地に浸って、渺茫たるかなたに横たわる自由をあこがれる新たに目ざめた心境をおこそうと思った。
Thus prepared the guest will silently approach the sanctuary, and, if a samurai, will leave his sword on the rack beneath the eaves, the tea-room being preeminently the house of peace. Then he will bend low and creep into the room through a small door not more than three feet in height. This proceeding was incumbent on all guests,—high and low alike,—and was intended to inculcate humility. The order of precedence having been mutually agreed upon while resting in the machiai, the guests one by one will enter noiselessly and take their seats, first making obeisance to the picture or flower arrangement on the tokonoma. The host will not enter the room until all the guests have seated themselves and quiet reigns with nothing to break the silence save the note of the boiling water in the iron kettle. The kettle sings well, for pieces of iron are so arranged in the bottom as to produce a peculiar melody in which one may hear the echoes of a cataract muffled by clouds, of a distant sea breaking among the rocks, a rainstorm sweeping through a bamboo forest, or of the soughing of pines on some faraway hill.
こういう心持ちで客は黙々としてその聖堂に近づいて行く。そしてもし武士ならばその剣を軒下の刀架にかけておく、茶室は至極平和の家であるから。それから客は低くかがんで、高さ三尺ぐらいの狭い入り口〔にじり口〕からにじってはいる。この動作は、身貴きも卑しきも同様にすべての客に負わされる義務であって、人に謙譲を教え込むためのものであった。席次は待合で休んでいる間に定まっているので、客は一人ずつ静かにはいってその席につき、まず床の間の絵または生花に敬意を表する。主人は、客が皆着席して部屋が静まりきり、茶釜にたぎる湯の音を除いては、何一つ静けさを破るものもないようになって、始めてはいってくる。茶釜は美しい音をたてて鳴る。特殊のメロディーを出すように茶釜の底に鉄片が並べてあるから。これを聞けば、雲に包まれた滝の響きか岩に砕くる遠海の音か竹林を払う雨風か、それともどこか遠き丘の上の松籟かとも思われる。
Even in the daytime the light in the room is subdued, for the low eaves of the slanting roof admit but few of the sun's rays. Everything is sober in tint from the ceiling to the floor; the guests themselves have carefully chosen garments of unobtrusive colors. The mellowness of age is over all, everything suggestive of recent acquirement being tabooed save only the one note of contrast furnished by the bamboo dipper and the linen napkin, both immaculately white and new. However faded the tea-room and the tea-equipage may seem, everything is absolutely clean. Not a particle of dust will be found in the darkest corner, for if any exists the host is not a tea-master. One of the first requisites of a tea-master is the knowledge of how to sweep, clean, and wash, for there is an art in cleaning and dusting. A piece of antique metal work must not be attacked with the unscrupulous zeal of the Dutch housewife. Dripping water from a flower vase need not be wiped away, for it may be suggestive of dew and coolness.
日中でも室内の光線は和らげられている。傾斜した屋根のある低いひさしは日光を少ししか入れないから。天井から床に至るまですべての物が落ち着いた色合いである。客みずからも注意して目立たぬ着物を選んでいる。古めかしい和らかさがすべての物に行き渡っている。ただ清浄無垢な白い新しい茶筅と麻ふきんが著しい対比をなしているのを除いては、新しく得られたらしい物はすべて厳禁せられている。茶室や茶道具がいかに色あせて見えてもすべての物が全く清潔である。部屋の最も暗いすみにさえ塵一本も見られない。もしあるようならばその主人は茶人とはいわれないのである。茶人に第一必要な条件の一は掃き、ふき清め、洗うことに関する知識である、払い清めるには術を要するから。金属細工はオランダの主婦のように無遠慮にやっきとなってはたいてはならない。花瓶からしたたる水はぬぐい去るを要しない、それは露を連想させ、涼味を覚えさせるから。
In this connection there is a story of Rikiu which well illustrates the ideas of cleanliness entertained by the tea-masters. Rikiu was watching his son Shoan as he swept and watered the garden path. "Not clean enough," said Rikiu, when Shoan had finished his task, and bade him try again. After a weary hour the son turned to Rikiu: "Father, there is nothing more to be done. The steps have been washed for the third time, the stone lanterns and the trees are well sprinkled with water, moss and lichens are shining with a fresh verdure; not a twig, not a leaf have I left on the ground." "Young fool," chided the tea-master, "that is not the way a garden path should be swept." Saying this, Rikiu stepped into the garden, shook a tree and scattered over the garden gold and crimson leaves, scraps of the brocade of autumn! What Rikiu demanded was not cleanliness alone, but the beautiful and the natural also.
これに関連して、茶人たちのいだいていた清潔という考えをよく説明している利休についての話がある。利休はその子紹安が露地を掃除し水をまくのを見ていた。紹安が掃除を終えた時利休は「まだ充分でない。」と言ってもう一度しなおすように命じた。いやいやながら一時間もかかってからむすこは父に向かって言った、「おとうさん、もう何もすることはありません。庭石は三度洗い石燈籠や庭木にはよく水をまき蘚苔は生き生きした緑色に輝いています。地面には小枝一本も木の葉一枚もありません。」「ばか者、露地の掃除はそんなふうにするものではない。」と言ってその茶人はしかった。こう言って利休は庭におり立ち一樹を揺すって、庭一面に秋の錦を片々と黄金、紅の木の葉を散りしかせた。利休の求めたものは清潔のみではなくて美と自然とであった。
The name, Abode of Fancy, implies a structure created to meet some individual artistic requirement. The tea-room is made for the tea master, not the tea-master for the tea-room. It is not intended for posterity and is therefore ephemeral. The idea that everyone should have a house of his own is based on an ancient custom of the Japanese race, Shinto superstition ordaining that every dwelling should be evacuated on the death of its chief occupant. Perhaps there may have been some unrealized sanitary reason for this practice. Another early custom was that a newly built house should be provided for each couple that married. It is on account of such customs that we find the Imperial capitals so frequently removed from one site to another in ancient days. The rebuilding, every twenty years, of Ise Temple, the supreme shrine of the Sun-Goddess, is an example of one of these ancient rites which still obtain at the present day. The observance of these customs was only possible with some form of construction as that furnished by our system of wooden architecture, easily pulled down, easily built up. A more lasting style, employing brick and stone, would have rendered migrations impracticable, as indeed they became when the more stable and massive wooden construction of China was adopted by us after the Nara period.
「好き家」という名はある個人の芸術的要求にかなうように作られた建物という意味を含んでいる。茶室は茶人のために作ったものであって茶人は茶室のためのものではない。それは子孫のために作ったのではないから暫定的である。人は各自独立の家を持つべきであるという考えは日本民族古来の習慣に基づいたもので、神道の迷信的習慣の定めによれば、いずれの家もその家長が死ぬと引き払うことになっている。この習慣はたぶんあるわからない衛生上の理由もあってのことかもしれない。また別に昔の習慣として新婚の夫婦には新築の家を与えるということもあった。こういう習慣のために古代の皇居は非常にしばしば次から次へとうつされた。伊勢の大廟を二十年ごとに再築するのは古の儀式の今日なお行なわれている一例である。こういう習慣を守るのは組み立て取りこわしの容易なわが国の木造建築のようなある建築様式においてのみ可能であった。煉瓦石材を用いるやや永続的な様式は移動できないようにしたであろう、奈良朝以後シナの鞏固な重々しい木造建築を採用するに及んで実際移動不可能になったように。
With the predominance of Zen individualism in the fifteenth century, however, the old idea became imbued with a deeper significance as conceived in connection with the tea-room. Zennism, with the Buddhist theory of evanescence and its demands for the mastery of spirit over matter, recognized the house only as a temporary refuge for the body. The body itself was but as a hut in the wilderness, a flimsy shelter made by tying together the grasses that grew around,—when these ceased to be bound together they again became resolved into the original waste. In the tea-room fugitiveness is suggested in the thatched roof, frailty in the slender pillars, lightness in the bamboo support, apparent carelessness in the use of commonplace materials. The eternal is to be found only in the spirit which, embodied in these simple surroundings, beautifies them with the subtle light of its refinement.
しかしながら十五世紀禅の個性主義が勢力を得るにつれて、その古い考えは茶室に連関して考えられ、これにある深い意味がしみこんで来た。禅は仏教の有為転変の説と精神が物質を支配すべきであるというその要求によって家をば身を入れるただ仮りの宿と認めた。その身とてもただ荒野にたてた仮りの小屋、あたりにはえた草を結んだか弱い雨露しのぎ――この草の結びが解ける時はまたもとの野原に立ちかえる。茶室において草ぶきの屋根、細い柱の弱々しさ、竹のささえの軽やかさ、さてはありふれた材料を用いて一見いかにも無頓着らしいところにも世の無常が感ぜられる。常住は、ただこの単純な四囲の事物の中に宿されていて風流の微光で物を美化する精神に存している。
That the tea-room should be built to suit some individual taste is an enforcement of the principle of vitality in art. Art, to be fully appreciated, must be true to contemporaneous life. It is not that we should ignore the claims of posterity, but that we should seek to enjoy the present more. It is not that we should disregard the creations of the past, but that we should try to assimilate them into our consciousness. Slavish conformity to traditions and formulas fetters the expression of individuality in architecture. We can but weep over the senseless imitations of European buildings which one beholds in modern Japan. We marvel why, among the most progressive Western nations, architecture should be so devoid of originality, so replete with repetitions of obsolete styles. Perhaps we are passing through an age of democratisation in art, while awaiting the rise of some princely master who shall establish a new dynasty. Would that we loved the ancients more and copied them less! It has been said that the Greeks were great because they never drew from the antique.
茶室はある個人的趣味に適するように建てらるべきだということは、芸術における最も重要な原理を実行することである。芸術が充分に味わわれるためにはその同時代の生活に合っていなければならぬ。それは後世の要求を無視せよというのではなくて、現在をなおいっそう楽しむことを努むべきだというのである。また過去の創作物を無視せよというのではなくて、それをわれらの自覚の中に同化せよというのである。伝統や型式に屈従することは、建築に個性の表われるのを妨げるものである。現在日本に見るような洋式建築の無分別な模倣を見てはただ涙を注ぐほかはない。われわれは不思議に思う、最も進歩的な西洋諸国の間に何ゆえに建築がかくも斬新を欠いているのか、かくも古くさい様式の反復に満ちているのかと。たぶん今芸術の民本主義の時代を経過しつつ、一方にある君主らしい支配者が出現して新たな王朝をおこすのを待っているのであろう。願わくは古人を憬慕することはいっそうせつに、かれらに模倣することはますます少なからんことを！ ギリシャ国民の偉大であったのは決して古物に求めなかったからであると伝えられている。
The term, Abode of Vacancy, besides conveying the Taoist theory of the all-containing, involves the conception of a continued need of change in decorative motives. The tea-room is absolutely empty, except for what may be placed there temporarily to satisfy some aesthetic mood. Some special art object is brought in for the occasion, and everything else is selected and arranged to enhance the beauty of the principal theme. One cannot listen to different pieces of music at the same time, a real comprehension of the beautiful being possible only through concentration upon some central motive. Thus it will be seen that the system of decoration in our tea-rooms is opposed to that which obtains in the West, where the interior of a house is often converted into a museum. To a Japanese, accustomed to simplicity of ornamentation and frequent change of decorative method, a Western interior permanently filled with a vast array of pictures, statuary, and bric-a-brac gives the impression of mere vulgar display of riches. It calls for a mighty wealth of appreciation to enjoy the constant sight of even a masterpiece, and limitless indeed must be the capacity for artistic feeling in those who can exist day after day in the midst of such confusion of color and form as is to be often seen in the homes of Europe and America.
「空き家」という言葉は道教の万物包涵の説を伝えるほかに、装飾精神の変化を絶えず必要とする考えを含んでいる。茶室はただ暫時美的感情を満足さすためにおかれる物を除いては、全く空虚である。何か特殊な美術品を臨時に持ち込む、そしてその他の物はすべて主調の美しさを増すように選択配合せられるのである。人はいろいろな音楽を同時に聞くことはできぬ、美しいものの真の理解はただある中心点に注意を集中することによってのみできるのであるから。かくのごとくわが茶室の装飾法は、現今西洋に行なわれている装飾法、すなわち屋内がしばしば博物館に変わっているような装飾法とは趣を異にしていることがわかるだろう。装飾の単純、装飾法のしばしば変化するのになれている日本人の目には、絵画、彫刻、骨董品のおびただしい陳列で永久的に満たされている西洋の屋内は、単に俗な富を誇示しているに過ぎない感を与える。一個の傑作品でも絶えずながめて楽しむには多大の鑑賞力を要する。してみれば欧米の家庭にしばしば見るような色彩形状の混沌たる間に毎日毎日生きている人たちの風雅な心はさぞかし際限もなく深いものであろう。
The "Abode of the Unsymmetrical" suggests another phase of our decorative scheme. The absence of symmetry in Japanese art objects has been often commented on by Western critics. This, also, is a result of a working out through Zennism of Taoist ideals. Confucianism, with its deep-seated idea of dualism, and Northern Buddhism with its worship of a trinity, were in no way opposed to the expression of symmetry. As a matter of fact, if we study the ancient bronzes of China or the religious arts of the Tang dynasty and the Nara period, we shall recognize a constant striving after symmetry. The decoration of our classical interiors was decidedly regular in its arrangement. The Taoist and Zen conception of perfection, however, was different. The dynamic nature of their philosophy laid more stress upon the process through which perfection was sought than upon perfection itself. True beauty could be discovered only by one who mentally completed the incomplete. The virility of life and art lay in its possibilities for growth. In the tea-room it is left for each guest in imagination to complete the total effect in relation to himself. Since Zennism has become the prevailing mode of thought, the art of the extreme Orient has purposefully avoided the symmetrical as expressing not only completion, but repetition. Uniformity of design was considered fatal to the freshness of imagination. Thus, landscapes, birds, and flowers became the favorite subjects for depiction rather than the human figure, the latter being present in the person of the beholder himself. We are often too much in evidence as it is, and in spite of our vanity even self-regard is apt to become monotonous.
「数寄屋」はわが装飾法の他の方面を連想させる。日本の美術品が均斉を欠いていることは西洋批評家のしばしば述べたところである。これもまた禅を通じて道教の理想の現われた結果である。儒教の根深い両元主義も、北方仏教の三尊崇拝も、決して均斉の表現に反対したものではなかった。実際、もしシナ古代の青銅器具または唐代および奈良時代の宗教的美術品を研究してみれば均斉を得るために不断の努力をしたことが認められるであろう。わが国の古典的屋内装飾はその配合が全く均斉を保っていた。しかしながら道教や禅の「完全」という概念は別のものであった。彼らの哲学の動的な性質は完全そのものよりも、完全を求むる手続きに重きをおいた。真の美はただ「不完全」を心の中に完成する人によってのみ見いだされる。人生と芸術の力強いところはその発達の可能性に存した。茶室においては、自己に関連して心の中に全効果を完成することが客各自に任されている。禅の考え方が世間一般の思考形式となって以来、極東の美術は均斉ということは完成を表わすのみならず重複を表わすものとしてことさらに避けていた。意匠の均等は想像の清新を全く破壊するものと考えられていた。このゆえに人物よりも山水花鳥を画題として好んで用いるようになった。人物は見る人みずからの姿として現われているのであるから。実際われわれは往々あまりに自己をあらわし過ぎて困る、そしてわれわれは虚栄心があるにもかかわらず自愛さえも単調になりがちである。
In the tea-room the fear of repetition is a constant presence. The various objects for the decoration of a room should be so selected that no colour or design shall be repeated. If you have a living flower, a painting of flowers is not allowable. If you are using a round kettle, the water pitcher should be angular. A cup with a black glaze should not be associated with a tea-caddy of black lacquer. In placing a vase of an incense burner on the tokonoma, care should be taken not to put it in the exact centre, lest it divide the space into equal halves. The pillar of the tokonoma should be of a different kind of wood from the other pillars, in order to break any suggestion of monotony in the room.
茶室においては重複の恐れが絶えずある。室の装飾に用いる種々な物は色彩意匠の重複しないように選ばなければならぬ。生花があれば草花の絵は許されぬ。丸い釜を用いれば水さしは角張っていなければならぬ。黒釉薬の茶わんは黒塗りの茶入れとともに用いてはならぬ。香炉や花瓶を床の間にすえるにも、その場所を二等分してはならないから、ちょうどそのまん中に置かぬよう注意せねばならぬ。少しでも室内の単調の気味を破るために、床の間の柱は他の柱とは異なった材木を用いねばならぬ。
Here again the Japanese method of interior decoration differs from that of the Occident, where we see objects arrayed symmetrically on mantelpieces and elsewhere. In Western houses we are often confronted with what appears to us useless reiteration. We find it trying to talk to a man while his full-length portrait stares at us from behind his back. We wonder which is real, he of the picture or he who talks, and feel a curious conviction that one of them must be fraud. Many a time have we sat at a festive board contemplating, with a secret shock to our digestion, the representation of abundance on the dining-room walls. Why these pictured victims of chase and sport, the elaborate carvings of fishes and fruit? Why the display of family plates, reminding us of those who have dined and are dead?
この点においてもまた日本の室内装飾法は西洋の壁炉やその他の場所に物が均等に並べてある装飾法と異なっている。西洋の家ではわれわれから見れば無用の重複と思われるものにしばしば出くわすことがある。背後からその人の全身像がじっとこちらを見ている人と対談するのはつらいことである。肖像の人か、語っている人か、いずれが真のその人であろうかといぶかり、その一方はにせ物に違いないという妙な確信をいだいてくる。お祝いの饗宴に連なりながら食堂の壁に描かれたたくさんのものをつくづくながめて、ひそかに消化の傷害をおこしたことは幾度も幾度もある。何ゆえにこのような遊猟の獲物を描いたものや魚類果物の丹精こめた彫刻をおくのであるか。何ゆえに家伝の金銀食器を取り出して、かつてそれを用いて食事をし今はなき人を思い出させるのであるか。
The simplicity of the tea-room and its freedom from vulgarity make it truly a sanctuary from the vexations of the outer world. There and there alone one can consecrate himself to undisturbed adoration of the beautiful. In the sixteenth century the tea-room afforded a welcome respite from labour to the fierce warriors and statesmen engaged in the unification and reconstruction of Japan. In the seventeenth century, after the strict formalism of the Tokugawa rule had been developed, it offered the only opportunity possible for the free communion of artistic spirits. Before a great work of art there was no distinction between daimyo, samurai, and commoner. Nowadays industrialism is making true refinement more and more difficult all the world over. Do we not need the tea-room more than ever?
茶室は簡素にして俗を離れているから真に外界のわずらわしさを遠ざかった聖堂である。ただ茶室においてのみ人は落ち着いて美の崇拝に身をささげることができる。十六世紀日本の改造統一にあずかった政治家やたけき武士にとって茶室はありがたい休養所となった。十七世紀徳川治世のきびしい儀式固守主義の発達した後は、茶室は芸術的精神と自由に交通する唯一の機会を与えてくれた。偉大なる芸術品の前には大名も武士も平民も差別はなかった。今日は工業主義のために真に風流を楽しむことは世界至るところますます困難になって行く。われわれは今までよりもいっそう茶室を必要とするのではなかろうか。
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ChapterⅤ 第五章 （Art Appreciation. 芸術鑑賞）
（read 5） （YouTube 5） （日本語訳 1）
Have you heard the Taoist tale of the Taming of the Harp?
諸君は「琴ならし」という道教徒の物語を聞いたことがありますか。
Once in the hoary ages in the Ravine of Lungmen stood a Kiri tree, a veritable king of the forest. It reared its head to talk to the stars; its roots struck deep into the earth, mingling their bronzed coils with those of the silver dragon that slept beneath. And it came to pass that a mighty wizard made of this tree a wondrous harp, whose stubborn spirit should be tamed but by the greatest of musicians. For long the instrument was treasured by the Emperor of China, but all in vain were the efforts of those who in turn tried to draw melody from its strings. In response to their utmost strivings there came from the harp but harsh notes of disdain, ill-according with the songs they fain would sing. The harp refused to recognise a master.
大昔、竜門の峡谷に、これぞ真の森の王と思われる古桐があった。頭はもたげて星と語り、根は深く地中におろして、その青銅色のとぐろ巻きは、地下に眠る銀竜のそれとからまっていた。ところが、ある偉大な妖術者がこの木を切って不思議な琴をこしらえた。そしてその頑固な精を和らげるには、ただ楽聖の手にまつよりほかはなかった。長い間その楽器は皇帝に秘蔵せられていたが、その弦から妙なる音をひき出そうと名手がかわるがわる努力してもそのかいは全くなかった。彼らのあらん限りの努力に答えるものはただ軽侮の音、彼らのよろこんで歌おうとする歌とは不調和な琴の音ばかりであった。
At last came Peiwoh, the prince of harpists. With tender hand he caressed the harp as one might seek to soothe an unruly horse, and softly touched the chords. He sang of nature and the seasons, of high mountains and flowing waters, and all the memories of the tree awoke! Once more the sweet breath of spring played amidst its branches. The young cataracts, as they danced down the ravine, laughed to the budding flowers. Anon were heard the dreamy voices of summer with its myriad insects, the gentle pattering of rain, the wail of the cuckoo. Hark! a tiger roars,—the valley answers again. It is autumn; in the desert night, sharp like a sword gleams the moon upon the frosted grass. Now winter reigns, and through the snow-filled air swirl flocks of swans and rattling hailstones beat upon the boughs with fierce delight.
ついに伯牙という琴の名手が現われた。御しがたい馬をしずめようとする人のごとく、彼はやさしく琴を撫し、静かに弦をたたいた。自然と四季を歌い、高山を歌い、流水を歌えば、その古桐の追憶はすべて呼び起こされた。再び和らかい春風はその枝の間に戯れた。峡谷をおどりながら下ってゆく若い奔流は、つぼみの花に向かって笑った。たちまち聞こえるのは夢のごとき、数知れぬ夏の虫の声、雨のばらばらと和らかに落ちる音、悲しげな郭公の声。聞け！ 虎うそぶいて、谷これにこたえている。秋の曲を奏すれば、物さびしき夜に、剣のごとき鋭い月は、霜のおく草葉に輝いている。冬の曲となれば、雪空に白鳥の群れ渦巻き、霰はぱらぱらと、嬉々として枝を打つ。
Then Peiwoh changed the key and sang of love. The forest swayed like an ardent swain deep lost in thought. On high, like a haughty maiden, swept a cloud bright and fair; but passing, trailed long shadows on the ground, black like despair. Again the mode was changed; Peiwoh sang of war, of clashing steel and trampling steeds. And in the harp arose the tempest of Lungmen, the dragon rode the lightning, the thundering avalanche crashed through the hills. In ecstasy the Celestial monarch asked Peiwoh wherein lay the secret of his victory. "Sire," he replied, "others have failed because they sang but of themselves. I left the harp to choose its theme, and knew not truly whether the harp had been Peiwoh or Peiwoh were the harp."
次に伯牙は調べを変えて恋を歌った。森は深く思案にくれている熱烈な恋人のようにゆらいだ。空にはつんとした乙女のような冴えた美しい雲が飛んだ。しかし失望のような黒い長い影を地上にひいて過ぎて行った。さらに調べを変えて戦いを歌い、剣戟の響きや駒の蹄の音を歌った。すると、琴中に竜門の暴風雨起こり、竜は電光に乗じ、轟々たる雪崩は山々に鳴り渡った。帝王は狂喜して、伯牙に彼の成功の秘訣の存するところを尋ねた。彼は答えて言った、「陛下、他の人々は自己の事ばかり歌ったから失敗したのであります。私は琴にその楽想を選ぶことを任せて、琴が伯牙か伯牙が琴か、ほんとうに自分にもわかりませんでした。」と。
This story well illustrates the mystery of art appreciation. The masterpiece is a symphony played upon our finest feelings. True art is Peiwoh, and we the harp of Lungmen. At the magic touch of the beautiful the secret chords of our being are awakened, we vibrate and thrill in response to its call. Mind speaks to mind. We listen to the unspoken, we gaze upon the unseen. The master calls forth notes we know not of. Memories long forgotten all come back to us with a new significance. Hopes stifled by fear, yearnings that we dare not recognise, stand forth in new glory. Our mind is the canvas on which the artists lay their colour; their pigments are our emotions; their chiaroscuro the light of joy, the shadow of sadness. The masterpiece is of ourselves, as we are of the masterpiece.
この物語は芸術鑑賞の極意をよく説明している。傑作というものはわれわれの心琴にかなでる一種の交響楽である。真の芸術は伯牙であり、われわれは竜門の琴である。美の霊手に触れる時、わが心琴の神秘の弦は目ざめ、われわれはこれに呼応して振動し、肉をおどらせ血をわかす。心は心と語る。無言のものに耳を傾け、見えないものを凝視する。名匠はわれわれの知らぬ調べを呼び起こす。長く忘れていた追憶はすべて新しい意味をもってかえって来る。恐怖におさえられていた希望や、認める勇気のなかった憧憬が、栄えばえと現われて来る。わが心は画家の絵の具を塗る画布である。その色素はわれわれの感情である。その濃淡の配合は、喜びの光であり悲しみの影である。われわれは傑作によって存するごとく、傑作はわれわれによって存する。
The sympathetic communion of minds necessary for art appreciation must be based on mutual concession. The spectator must cultivate the proper attitude for receiving the message, as the artist must know how to impart it. The tea-master, Kobori-Enshiu, himself a daimyo, has left to us these memorable words: "Approach a great painting as thou wouldst approach a great prince." In order to understand a masterpiece, you must lay yourself low before it and await with bated breath its least utterance. An eminent Sung critic once made a charming confession. Said he: "In my young days I praised the master whose pictures I liked, but as my judgement matured I praised myself for liking what the masters had chosen to have me like." It is to be deplored that so few of us really take pains to study the moods of the masters. In our stubborn ignorance we refuse to render them this simple courtesy, and thus often miss the rich repast of beauty spread before our very eyes. A master has always something to offer, while we go hungry solely because of our own lack of appreciation.
美術鑑賞に必要な同情ある心の交通は、互譲の精神によらなければならない。美術家は通信を伝える道を心得ていなければならないように、観覧者は通信を受けるに適当な態度を養わなければならない。宗匠小堀遠州は、みずから大名でありながら、次のような忘れがたい言葉を残している。「偉大な絵画に接するには、王侯に接するごとくせよ。」傑作を理解しようとするには、その前に身を低うして息を殺し、一言一句も聞きもらさじと待っていなければならない。宋のある有名な批評家が、非常におもしろい自白をしている。「若いころには、おのが好む絵を描く名人を称揚したが、鑑識力の熟するに従って、おのが好みに適するように、名人たちが選んだ絵を好むおのれを称した。」現今、名人の気分を骨を折って研究する者が実に少ないのは、誠に歎かわしいことである。われわれは、手のつけようのない無知のために、この造作のない礼儀を尽くすことをいとう。こうして、眼前に広げられた美の饗応にもあずからないことがしばしばある。名人にはいつでもごちそうの用意があるが、われわれはただみずから味わう力がないために飢えている。
To the sympathetic a masterpiece becomes a living reality towards which we feel drawn in bonds of comradeship. The masters are immortal, for their loves and fears live in us over and over again. It is rather the soul than the hand, the man than the technique, which appeals to us,—the more human the call the deeper is our response. It is because of this secret understanding between the master and ourselves that in poetry or romance we suffer and rejoice with the hero and heroine. Chikamatsu, our Japanese Shakespeare, has laid down as one of the first principles of dramatic composition the importance of taking the audience into the confidence of the author. Several of his pupils submitted plays for his approval, but only one of the pieces appealed to him. It was a play somewhat resembling the Comedy of Errors, in which twin brethren suffer through mistaken identity. "This," said Chikamatsu, "has the proper spirit of the drama, for it takes the audience into consideration. The public is permitted to know more than the actors. It knows where the mistake lies, and pities the poor figures on the board who innocently rush to their fate."
同情ある人に対しては、傑作が生きた実在となり、僚友関係のよしみでこれに引きつけられるここちがする。名人は不朽である。というのは、その愛もその憂いも、幾度も繰り返してわれわれの心に生き残って行くから。われわれの心に訴えるものは、伎倆というよりは精神であり、技術というよりも人物である。呼び声が人間味のあるものであれば、それだけにわれわれの応答は衷心から出て来る。名人とわれわれの間に、この内密の黙契があればこそ詩や小説を読んで、その主人公とともに苦しみ共に喜ぶのである。わが国の沙翁近松は劇作の第一原則の一つとして、見る人に作者の秘密を打ち明かす事が重要であると定めた。弟子たちの中には幾人も、脚本をさし出して彼の称賛を得ようとした者があったが、その中で彼がおもしろいと思ったのはただ一つであった。それは、ふたごの兄弟が、人違いのために苦しむという『まちがいつづき』に多少似ている脚本であった。近松が言うには、「これこそ、劇本来の精神をそなえている。というのは、これは見る人を考えに入れているから公衆が役者よりも多く知ることを許されている。公衆は誤りの因を知っていて、哀れにも、罪もなく運命の手におちて行く舞台の上の人々を哀れむ。」と。
The great masters both of the East and the West never forgot the value of suggestion as a means for taking the spectator into their confidence. Who can contemplate a masterpiece without being awed by the immense vista of thought presented to our consideration? How familiar and sympathetic are they all; how cold in contrast the modern commonplaces! In the former we feel the warm outpouring of a man's heart; in the latter only a formal salute. Engrossed in his technique, the modern rarely rises above himself. Like the musicians who vainly invoked the Lungmen harp, he sings only of himself. His works may be nearer science, but are further from humanity. We have an old saying in Japan that a woman cannot love a man who is truly vain, for their is no crevice in his heart for love to enter and fill up. In art vanity is equally fatal to sympathetic feeling, whether on the part of the artist or the public.
大家は、東西両洋ともに、見る人を腹心の友とする手段として、暗示の価値を決して忘れなかった。傑作をうちながめる人たれか心に浮かぶ綿々たる無限の思いに、畏敬の念をおこさない者があろう。傑作はすべて、いかにも親しみあり、肝胆相照らしているではないか。これにひきかえ、現代の平凡な作品はいかにも冷ややかなものではないか。前者においては、作者の心のあたたかい流露を感じ、後者においては、ただ形式的の会釈を感ずるのみである。現代人は、技術に没頭して、おのれの域を脱することはまれである。竜門の琴を、なんのかいもなくかき鳴らそうとした楽人のごとく、ただおのれを歌うのみであるから、その作品は、科学には近かろうけれども、人情を離れること遠いのである。日本の古い俚諺に「見えはる男には惚れられぬ。」というのがある。そのわけは、そういう男の心には、愛を注いで満たすべきすきまがないからである。芸術においてもこれと等しく、虚栄は芸術家公衆いずれにおいても同情心を害することはなはだしいものである。
Nothing is more hallowing than the union of kindred spirits in art. At the moment of meeting, the art lover transcends himself. At once he is and is not. He catches a glimpse of Infinity, but words cannot voice his delight, for the eye has no tongue. Freed from the fetters of matter, his spirit moves in the rhythm of things. It is thus that art becomes akin to religion and ennobles mankind. It is this which makes a masterpiece something sacred. In the old days the veneration in which the Japanese held the work of the great artist was intense. The tea-masters guarded their treasures with religious secrecy, and it was often necessary to open a whole series of boxes, one within another, before reaching the shrine itself—the silken wrapping within whose soft folds lay the holy of holies. Rarely was the object exposed to view, and then only to the initiated.
芸術において、類縁の精神が合一するほど世にも神聖なものはない。その会するやたちまちにして芸術愛好者は自己を超越する。彼は存在すると同時に存在しない。彼は永劫を瞥見するけれども、目には舌なく、言葉をもってその喜びを声に表わすことはできない。彼の精神は、物質の束縛を脱して、物のリズムによって動いている。かくのごとくして芸術は宗教に近づいて人間をけだかくするものである。これによってこそ傑作は神聖なものとなるのである。昔日本人が大芸術家の作品を崇敬したことは非常なものであった。茶人たちはその秘蔵の作品を守るに、宗教的秘密をもってしたから、御神龕（絹地の包みで、その中へやわらかに包んで奥の院が納めてある）まで達するには、幾重にもある箱をすっかり開かねばならないことがしばしばあった。その作品が人目にふれることはきわめてまれで、しかも奥義を授かった人にのみ限られていた。
At the time when Teaism was in the ascendency the Taiko's generals would be better satisfied with the present of a rare work of art than a large grant of territory as a reward of victory. Many of our favourite dramas are based on the loss and recovery of a noted masterpiece. For instance, in one play the palace of Lord Hosokawa, in which was preserved the celebrated painting of Dharuma by Sesson, suddenly takes fire through the negligence of the samurai in charge. Resolved at all hazards to rescue the precious painting, he rushes into the burning building and seizes the kakemono, only to find all means of exit cut off by the flames. Thinking only of the picture, he slashes open his body with his sword, wraps his torn sleeve about the Sesson and plunges it into the gaping wound. The fire is at last extinguished. Among the smoking embers is found a half-consumed corpse, within which reposes the treasure uninjured by the fire. Horrible as such tales are, they illustrate the great value that we set upon a masterpiece, as well as the devotion of a trusted samurai.
茶道の盛んであった時代においては、太閤の諸将は戦勝の褒美として、広大な領地を賜わるよりも、珍しい美術品を贈られることを、いっそう満足に思ったものであった。わが国で人気ある劇の中には、有名な傑作の喪失回復に基づいて書いたものが多い。たとえば、ある劇にこういう話がある。細川侯の御殿には雪村の描いた有名な達磨があったが、その御殿が、守りの侍の怠慢から火災にかかった。侍は万事を賭して、この宝を救い出そうと決心して、燃える御殿に飛び入って、例の掛け物をつかんだ、が、見ればはや、火炎にさえぎられて、のがれる道はなかったのである。彼は、ただその絵のことのみを心にかけて、剣をもっておのが肉を切り開き、裂いた袖に雪村を包んで、大きく開いた傷口にこれを突っ込んだ。火事はついにしずまった。煙る余燼の中に、半焼の死骸があった。その中に、火の災いをこうむらないで、例の宝物は納まっていた。実に身の毛もよだつ物語であるが、これによって、信頼を受けた侍の忠節はもちろんのこと、わが国人がいかに傑作品を重んじるかということが説明される。
We must remember, however, that art is of value only to the extent that it speaks to us. It might be a universal language if we ourselves were universal in our sympathies. Our finite nature, the power of tradition and conventionality, as well as our hereditary instincts, restrict the scope of our capacity for artistic enjoyment. Our very individuality establishes in one sense a limit to our understanding; and our aesthetic personality seeks its own affinities in the creations of the past. It is true that with cultivation our sense of art appreciation broadens, and we become able to enjoy many hitherto unrecognised expressions of beauty. But, after all, we see only our own image in the universe,—our particular idiosyncracies dictate the mode of our perceptions. The tea-masters collected only objects which fell strictly within the measure of their individual appreciation.
しかしながら、美術の価値はただそれがわれわれに語る程度によるものであることを忘れてはならない。その言葉は、もしわれわれの同情が普遍的であったならば、普遍的なものであるかもしれない。が、われわれの限定せられた性質、代々相伝の本性はもちろんのこと、慣例、因襲の力は美術鑑賞力の範囲を制限するものである。われらの個性さえも、ある意味においてわれわれの理解力に制限を設けるものである。そして、われらの審美的個性は、過去の創作品の中に自己の類縁を求める。もっとも、修養によって美術鑑賞力は増大するものであって、われわれはこれまでは認められなかった多くの美の表現を味わうことができるようになるものである。が、畢竟するところ、われわれは万有の中に自分の姿を見るに過ぎないのである。すなわちわれら特有の性質がわれらの理解方式を定めるのである。茶人たちは全く各人個々の鑑賞力の及ぶ範囲内の物のみを収集した。
One is reminded in this connection of a story concerning Kobori-Enshiu. Enshiu was complimented by his disciples on the admirable taste he had displayed in the choice of his collection. Said they, "Each piece is such that no one could help admiring. It shows that you had better taste than had Rikiu, for his collection could only be appreciated by one beholder in a thousand." Sorrowfully Enshiu replied: "This only proves how commonplace I am. The great Rikiu dared to love only those objects which personally appealed to him, whereas I unconsciously cater to the taste of the majority. Verily, Rikiu was one in a thousand among tea-masters."
これに連関して小堀遠州に関する話を思い出す。遠州はかつてその門人たちから、彼が収集する物の好みに現われている立派な趣味を、お世辞を言ってほめられた。「どのお品も、実に立派なもので、人皆嘆賞おくあたわざるところであります。これによって先生は、利休にもまさる趣味をお持ちになっていることがわかります。というのは、利休の集めた物は、ただ千人に一人しか真にわかるものがいなかったのでありますから。」と。遠州は歎じて、「これはただいかにも自分が凡俗であることを証するのみである。偉い利休は、自分だけにおもしろいと思われる物をのみ愛好する勇気があったのだ。しかるに私は、知らず知らず一般の人の趣味にこびている。実際、利休は千人に一人の宗匠であった。」と答えた。
It is much to be regretted that so much of the apparent enthusiasm for art at the present day has no foundation in real feeling. In this democratic age of ours men clamour for what is popularly considered the best, regardless of their feelings. They want the costly, not the refined; the fashionable, not the beautiful. To the masses, contemplation of illustrated periodicals, the worthy product of their own industrialism, would give more digestible food for artistic enjoyment than the early Italians or the Ashikaga masters, whom they pretend to admire. The name of the artist is more important to them than the quality of the work. As a Chinese critic complained many centuries ago, "People criticise a picture by their ear." It is this lack of genuine appreciation that is responsible for the pseudo-classic horrors that to-day greet us wherever we turn.
実に遺憾にたえないことには、現今美術に対する表面的の熱狂は、真の感じに根拠をおいていない。われわれのこの民本主義の時代においては、人は自己の感情には無頓着に世間一般から最も良いと考えられている物を得ようとかしましく騒ぐ。高雅なものではなくて、高価なものを欲し、美しいものではなくて、流行品を欲するのである。一般民衆にとっては、彼らみずからの工業主義の尊い産物である絵入りの定期刊行物をながめるほうが、彼らが感心したふりをしている初期のイタリア作品や、足利時代の傑作よりも美術鑑賞の糧としてもっと消化しやすいであろう。彼らにとっては、作品の良否よりも美術家の名が重要である。数世紀前、シナのある批評家の歎じたごとく、世人は耳によって絵画を批評する。今日いずれの方面を見ても、擬古典的嫌悪を感ずるのは、すなわちこの真の鑑賞力の欠けているためである。
Another common mistake is that of confusing art with archaeology. The veneration born of antiquity is one of the best traits in the human character, and fain would we have it cultivated to a greater extent. The old masters are rightly to be honoured for opening the path to future enlightenment. The mere fact that they have passed unscathed through centuries of criticism and come down to us still covered with glory commands our respect. But we should be foolish indeed if we valued their achievement simply on the score of age. Yet we allow our historical sympathy to override our aesthetic discrimination. We offer flowers of approbation when the artist is safely laid in his grave. The nineteenth century, pregnant with the theory of evolution, has moreover created in us the habit of losing sight of the individual in the species. A collector is anxious to acquire specimens to illustrate a period or a school, and forgets that a single masterpiece can teach us more than any number of the mediocre products of a given period or school. We classify too much and enjoy too little. The sacrifice of the aesthetic to the so-called scientific method of exhibition has been the bane of many museums.
なお一つ一般に誤っていることは、美術と考古学の混同である。古物から生ずる崇敬の念は、人間の性質の中で最もよい特性であって、いっそうこれを涵養したいものである。古の大家は、後世啓発の道を開いたことに対して、当然尊敬をうくべきである。彼らは幾世紀の批評を経て、無傷のままわれわれの時代に至り、今もなお光栄を荷のうているというだけで、われわれは彼らに敬意を表している。が、もしわれわれが、彼らの偉業を単に年代の古きゆえをもって尊んだとしたならば、それは実に愚かなことである。しかもわれわれは、自己の歴史的同情心が、審美的眼識を無視するままに許している。美術家が無事に墳墓におさめられると、われわれは称賛の花を手向けるのである。進化論の盛んであった十九世紀には、人類のことを考えて個人を忘れる習慣が作られた。収集家は一時期あるいは一派を説明する資料を得んことを切望して、ただ一個の傑作がよく、一定の時期あるいは一派のいかなる多数の凡俗な作にもまさって、われわれを教えるものであるということを忘れている。われわれはあまりに分類し過ぎて、あまりに楽しむことが少ない。いわゆる科学的方法の陳列のために、審美的方法を犠牲にしたことは、これまで多くの博物館の害毒であった。
The claims of contemporary art cannot be ignored in any vital scheme of life. The art of to-day is that which really belongs to us: it is our own reflection. In condemning it we but condemn ourselves. We say that the present age possesses no art:—who is responsible for this? It is indeed a shame that despite all our rhapsodies about the ancients we pay so little attention to our own possibilities. Struggling artists, weary souls lingering in the shadow of cold disdain! In our self-centered century, what inspiration do we offer them? The past may well look with pity at the poverty of our civilisation; the future will laugh at the barrenness of our art. We are destroying the beautiful in life. Would that some great wizard might from the stem of society shape a mighty harp whose strings would resound to the touch of genius.
同時代美術の要求は、人生の重要な計画において、いかなるものにもこれを無視することはできない。今日の美術は真にわれわれに属するものである、それはわれわれみずからの反映である。これを罵倒する時は、ただ自己を罵倒するのである。今の世に美術無し、というが、これが責めを負うべき者はたれぞ。古人に対しては、熱狂的に嘆賞するにもかかわらず、自己の可能性にはほとんど注意しないことは恥ずべきことである。世に認められようとして苦しむ美術家たち、冷たき軽侮の影に逡巡している疲れた人々よ！ などというが、この自己本位の世の中に、われわれは彼らに対してどれほどの鼓舞激励を与えているか。過去がわれらの文化の貧弱を哀れむのも道理である。未来はわが美術の貧弱を笑うであろう。われわれは人生の美しい物を破壊することによって美術を破壊している。ねがわくは、ある大妖術者が出現して、社会の幹から、天才の手に触れて始めて鳴り渡る弦をそなえた大琴を作らんことを祈る。
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第六章 花
（read 6）
（YouTube 6） （日本語訳 1）
In the trembling grey of a spring dawn, when the birds were whispering in mysterious cadence among the trees, have you not felt that they were talking to their mates about the flowers? Surely with mankind the appreciation of flowers must have been coeval with the poetry of love. Where better than in a flower, sweet in its unconsciousness, fragrant because of its silence, can we image the unfolding of a virgin soul? The primeval man in offering the first garland to his maiden thereby transcended the brute. He became human in thus rising above the crude necessities of nature. He entered the realm of art when he perceived the subtle use of the useless.
春の東雲のふるえる薄明に、小鳥が木の間で、わけのありそうな調子でささやいている時、諸君は彼らがそのつれあいに花のことを語っているのだと感じたことはありませんか。人間について見れば、花を観賞することはどうも恋愛の詩と時を同じくして起こっているようである。無意識のゆえに麗しく、沈黙のために芳しい花の姿でなくて、どこに処女の心の解ける姿を想像することができよう。原始時代の人はその恋人に初めて花輪をささげると、それによって獣性を脱した。彼はこうして、粗野な自然の必要を超越して人間らしくなった。彼が不必要な物の微妙な用途を認めた時、彼は芸術の国に入ったのである。
In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends. We eat, drink, sing, dance, and flirt with them. We wed and christen with flowers. We dare not die without them. We have worshipped with the lily, we have meditated with the lotus, we have charged in battle array with the rose and the chrysanthemum. We have even attempted to speak in the language of flowers. How could we live without them? It frightens one to conceive of a world bereft of their presence. What solace do they not bring to the bedside of the sick, what a light of bliss to the darkness of weary spirits? Their serene tenderness restores to us our waning confidence in the universe even as the intent gaze of a beautiful child recalls our lost hopes. When we are laid low in the dust it is they who linger in sorrow over our graves.
喜びにも悲しみにも、花はわれらの不断の友である。花とともに飲み、共に食らい、共に歌い、共に踊り、共に戯れる。花を飾って結婚の式をあげ、花をもって命名の式を行なう。花がなくては死んでも行けぬ。百合の花をもって礼拝し、蓮の花をもって冥想に入り、ばらや菊花をつけ、戦列を作って突撃した。さらに花言葉で話そうとまで企てた。花なくてどうして生きて行かれよう。花を奪われた世界を考えてみても恐ろしい。病める人の枕べに非常な慰安をもたらし、疲れた人々の闇の世界に喜悦の光をもたらすものではないか。その澄みきった淡い色は、ちょうど美しい子供をしみじみながめていると失われた希望が思い起こされるように、失われようとしている宇宙に対する信念を回復してくれる。われらが土に葬られる時、われらの墓辺を、悲しみに沈んで低徊するものは花である。
Sad as it is, we cannot conceal the fact that in spite of our companionship with flowers we have not risen very far above the brute. Scratch the sheepskin and the wolf within us will soon show his teeth. It has been said that a man at ten is an animal, at twenty a lunatic, at thirty a failure, at forty a fraud, and at fifty a criminal. Perhaps he becomes a criminal because he has never ceased to be an animal. Nothing is real to us but hunger, nothing sacred except our own desires. Shrine after shrine has crumbled before our eyes; but one altar is forever preserved, that whereon we burn incense to the supreme idol,—ourselves. Our god is great, and money is his Prophet! We devastate nature in order to make sacrifice to him. We boast that we have conquered Matter and forget that it is Matter that has enslaved us. What atrocities do we not perpetrate in the name of culture and refinement!
悲しいかな、われわれは花を不断の友としながらも、いまだ禽獣の域を脱することあまり遠くないという事実をおおうことはできぬ。羊の皮をむいて見れば、心の奥の狼はすぐにその歯をあらわすであろう。世間で、人間は十で禽獣、二十で発狂、三十で失敗、四十で山師、五十で罪人といっている。たぶん人間はいつまでも禽獣を脱しないから罪人となるのであろう。飢渇のほか何物もわれわれに対して真実なものはなく、われらみずからの煩悩のほか何物も神聖なものはない。神社仏閣は、次から次へとわれらのまのあたり崩壊して来たが、ただ一つの祭壇、すなわちその上で至高の神へ香を焚く「おのれ」という祭壇は永遠に保存せられている。われらの神は偉いものだ。金銭がその予言者だ！ われらは神へ奉納するために自然を荒らしている物質を征服したと誇っているが、物質こそわれわれを奴隷にしたものであるということは忘れている。われらは教養や風流に名をかりて、なんという残忍非道を行なっているのであろう！
Tell me, gentle flowers, teardrops of the stars, standing in the garden, nodding your heads to the bees as they sing of the dews and the sunbeams, are you aware of the fearful doom that awaits you? Dream on, sway and frolic while you may in the gentle breezes of summer. To-morrow a ruthless hand will close around your throats. You will be wrenched, torn asunder limb by limb, and borne away from your quiet homes. The wretch, she may be passing fair. She may say how lovely you are while her fingers are still moist with your blood. Tell me, will this be kindness? It may be your fate to be imprisoned in the hair of one whom you know to be heartless or to be thrust into the buttonhole of one who would not dare to look you in the face were you a man. It may even be your lot to be confined in some narrow vessel with only stagnant water to quench the maddening thirst that warns of ebbing life.
星の涙のしたたりのやさしい花よ、園に立って、日の光や露の玉をたたえて歌う蜜蜂に、会釈してうなずいている花よ、お前たちは、お前たちを待ち構えている恐ろしい運命を承知しているのか。夏のそよ風にあたって、そうしていられる間、いつまでも夢を見て、風に揺られて浮かれ気分で暮らすがよい。あすにも無慈悲な手が咽喉を取り巻くだろう。お前はよじ取られて手足を一つ一つ引きさかれ、お前の静かな家から連れて行ってしまわれるだろう。そのあさましの者はすてきな美人であるかもしれぬ。そして、お前の血でその女の指がまだ湿っている間は、「まあなんて美しい花だこと。」というかもしれぬ。だがね、これが親切なことだろうか。お前が、無情なやつだと承知している者の髪の中に閉じ込められたり、もしお前が人間であったらまともに見向いてくれそうにもない人のボタン穴にさされたりするのが、お前の宿命なのかもしれない。何か狭い器に監禁せられて、ただわずかのたまり水によって、命の衰え行くのを警告する狂わんばかりの渇を止めているのもお前の運命なのかもしれぬ。
Flowers, if you were in the land of the Mikado, you might some time meet a dread personage armed with scissors and a tiny saw. He would call himself a Master of Flowers. He would claim the rights of a doctor and you would instinctively hate him, for you know a doctor always seeks to prolong the troubles of his victims. He would cut, bend, and twist you into those impossible positions which he thinks it proper that you should assume. He would contort your muscles and dislocate your bones like any osteopath. He would burn you with red-hot coals to stop your bleeding, and thrust wires into you to assist your circulation. He would diet you with salt, vinegar, alum, and sometimes, vitriol. Boiling water would be poured on your feet when you seemed ready to faint. It would be his boast that he could keep life within you for two or more weeks longer than would have been possible without his treatment. Would you not have preferred to have been killed at once when you were first captured? What were the crimes you must have committed during your past incarnation to warrant such punishment in this?
花よ、もし御門の国にいるならば、鋏と小鋸に身を固めた恐ろしい人にいつか会うかもしれぬ。その人はみずから「生花の宗匠」と称している。彼は医者の権利を要求する。だから、自然彼がきらいになるだろう。というのは、医者というものはその犠牲になった人のわずらいをいつも長びかせようとする者だからね。彼はお前たちを切ってかがめゆがめて、彼の勝手な考えでお前たちの取るべき姿勢をきめて、途方もない変な姿にするだろう。もみ療治をする者のようにお前たちの筋肉を曲げ、骨を違わせるだろう。出血を止めるために灼熱した炭でお前たちを焦がしたり、循環を助けるためにからだの中へ針金をさし込むこともあろう。塩、酢、明礬、時には硫酸を食事に与えることもあろう。お前たちは今にも気絶しそうな時に、煮え湯を足に注がれることもあろう。彼の治療を受けない場合に比べると、二週間以上も長くお前たちの体内に生命を保たせておくことができるのを彼は誇りとしているだろう。お前たちは初めて捕えられた時、その場で殺されたほうがよくはなかったか。いったいお前は前世でどんな罪を犯したとて、現世でこんな罰を当然受けねばならないのか。
The wanton waste of flowers among Western communities is even more appalling than the way they are treated by Eastern Flower Masters. The number of flowers cut daily to adorn the ballrooms and banquet-tables of Europe and America, to be thrown away on the morrow, must be something enormous; if strung together they might garland a continent. Beside this utter carelessness of life, the guilt of the Flower-Master becomes insignificant. He, at least, respects the economy of nature, selects his victims with careful foresight, and after death does honour to their remains. In the West the display of flowers seems to be a part of the pageantry of wealth,—the fancy of a moment. Whither do they all go, these flowers, when the revelry is over? Nothing is more pitiful than to see a faded flower remorselessly flung upon a dung heap.
西洋の社会における花の浪費は東洋の宗匠の花の扱い方よりもさらに驚き入ったものである。舞踏室や宴会の席を飾るために日々切り取られ、翌日は投げ捨てられる花の数はなかなか莫大なものに違いない。いっしょにつないだら一大陸を花輪で飾ることもできよう。このような、花の命を全く物とも思わぬことに比ぶれば、花の宗匠の罪は取るに足らないものである。彼は少なくとも自然の経済を重んじて、注意深い慮りをもってその犠牲者を選び、死後はその遺骸に敬意を表する。西洋においては、花を飾るのは富を表わす一時的美観の一部、すなわちその場の思いつきであるように思われる。これらの花は皆その騒ぎの済んだあとはどこへ行くのであろう。しおれた花が無情にも糞土の上に捨てられているのを見るほど、世にも哀れなものはない。
Why were the flowers born so beautiful and yet so hapless? Insects can sting, and even the meekest of beasts will fight when brought to bay. The birds whose plumage is sought to deck some bonnet can fly from its pursuer, the furred animal whose coat you covet for your own may hide at your approach. Alas! The only flower known to have wings is the butterfly; all others stand helpless before the destroyer. If they shriek in their death agony their cry never reaches our hardened ears. We are ever brutal to those who love and serve us in silence, but the time may come when, for our cruelty, we shall be deserted by these best friends of ours. Have you not noticed that the wild flowers are becoming scarcer every year? It may be that their wise men have told them to depart till man becomes more human. Perhaps they have migrated to heaven.
どうして花はかくも美しく生まれて、しかもかくまで薄命なのであろう。虫でも刺すことができる。最も温順な動物でも追いつめられると戦うものである。ボンネットを飾るために羽毛をねらわれている鳥はその追い手から飛び去ることができる、人が上着にしたいとむさぼる毛皮のある獣は、人が近づけば隠れることができる。悲しいかな！ 翼ある唯一の花と知られているのは蝶であって、他の花は皆、破壊者に会ってはどうすることもできない。彼らが断末魔の苦しみに叫んだとても、その声はわれらの無情の耳へは決して達しない。われわれは、黙々としてわれらに仕えわれらを愛する人々に対して絶えず残忍であるが、これがために、これらの最もよき友からわれわれが見捨てられる時が来るかもしれない。諸君は、野生の花が年々少なくなってゆくのに気はつきませんか。それは彼らの中の賢人どもが、人がもっと人情のあるようになるまでこの世から去れと彼らに言ってきかせたのかもしれない。たぶん彼らは天へ移住してしまったのであろう。
Much may be said in favor of him who cultivates plants. The man of the pot is far more humane than he of the scissors. We watch with delight his concern about water and sunshine, his feuds with parasites, his horror of frosts, his anxiety when the buds come slowly, his rapture when the leaves attain their lustre. In the East the art of floriculture is a very ancient one, and the loves of a poet and his favorite plant have often been recorded in story and song. With the development of ceramics during the Tang and Sung dynasties we hear of wonderful receptacles made to hold plants, not pots, but jewelled palaces. A special attendant was detailed to wait upon each flower and to wash its leaves with soft brushes made of rabbit hair. It has been written ["Pingtse", by Yuenchunlang] that the peony should be bathed by a handsome maiden in full costume, that a winter-plum should be watered by a pale, slender monk. In Japan, one of the most popular of the No-dances, the Hachinoki, composed during the Ashikaga period, is based upon the story of an impoverished knight, who, on a freezing night, in lack of fuel for a fire, cuts his cherished plants in order to entertain a wandering friar. The friar is in reality no other than Hojo-Tokiyori, the Haroun-Al-Raschid of our tales, and the sacrifice is not without its reward. This opera never fails to draw tears from a Tokio audience even to-day.
草花を作る人のためには大いに肩を持ってやってもよい。植木鉢をいじる人は花鋏の人よりもはるかに人情がある。彼が水や日光について心配したり、寄生虫を相手に争ったり、霜を恐れたり、芽の出ようがおそい時は心配し、葉に光沢が出て来ると有頂天になって喜ぶ様子をうかがっているのは楽しいものである。東洋では花卉栽培の道は非常に古いものであって、詩人の嗜好とその愛好する花卉はしばしば物語や歌にしるされている。唐宋の時代には陶器術の発達に伴なって、花卉を入れる驚くべき器が作られたということである。といっても植木鉢ではなく宝石をちりばめた御殿であった。花ごとに仕える特使が派遣せられ、兎の毛で作ったやわらかい刷毛でその葉を洗うのであった。牡丹は、盛装した美しい侍女が水を与うべきもの、寒梅は青い顔をしてほっそりとした修道僧が水をやるべきものと書いた本がある。日本で、足利時代に作られた「鉢の木」という最も通俗な能の舞は、貧困な武士がある寒夜に炉に焚く薪がないので、旅僧を歓待するために、だいじに育てた鉢の木を切るという話に基づいて書いたものである。その僧とは実はわが物語のハルンアルラシッド（三一）ともいうべき北条時頼にほかならなかった。そしてその犠牲に対しては報酬なしではなかった。この舞は現今でも必ず東京の観客の涙を誘うものである。
Great precautions were taken for the preservation of delicate blossoms. Emperor Huensung, of the Tang Dynasty, hung tiny golden bells on the branches in his garden to keep off the birds. He it was who went off in the springtime with his court musicians to gladden the flowers with soft music. A quaint tablet, which tradition ascribes to Yoshitsune, the hero of our Arthurian legends, is still extant in one of the Japanese monasteries [Sumadera, near Kobe]. It is a notice put up for the protection of a certain wonderful plum-tree, and appeals to us with the grim humour of a warlike age. After referring to the beauty of the blossoms, the inscription says: "Whoever cuts a single branch of this tree shall forfeit a finger therefor." Would that such laws could be enforced nowadays against those who wantonly destroy flowers and mutilate objects of art!
か弱い花を保護するためには、非常な警戒をしたものであった。唐の玄宗皇帝は、鳥を近づけないために花園の樹枝に小さい金の鈴をかけておいた。春の日に宮廷の楽人を率いていで、美しい音楽で花を喜ばせたのも彼であった。わが国のアーサー王物語の主人公ともいうべき、義経の書いたものだという伝説のある、奇妙な高札が日本のある寺院（須磨寺）に現存している。それはある不思議な梅の木を保護するために掲げられた掲示であって、尚武時代のすごいおかしみをもってわれらの心に訴える。梅花の美しさを述べた後「一枝を伐らば一指を剪るべし。」という文が書いてある。花をむやみに切り捨てたり、美術品をばだいなしにする者どもに対しては、今日においてもこういう法律が願わくは実施せられよかしと思う。
Yet even in the case of pot flowers we are inclined to suspect the selfishness of man. Why take the plants from their homes and ask them to bloom mid strange surroundings? Is it not like asking the birds to sing and mate cooped up in cages? Who knows but that the orchids feel stifled by the artificial heat in your conservatories and hopelessly long for a glimpse of their own Southern skies?
しかし鉢植えの花の場合でさえ、人間の勝手気ままな事が感ぜられる気がする。何ゆえに花をそのふるさとから連れ出して、知らぬ他郷に咲かせようとするのであるか。それは小鳥を籠に閉じこめて、歌わせようとするのも同じではないか。蘭類が温室で、人工の熱によって息づまる思いをしながら、なつかしい南国の空を一目見たいとあてもなくあこがれているとだれが知っていよう。
The ideal lover of flowers is he who visits them in their native haunts, like Taoyuenming [all celebrated Chinese poets and philosophers], who sat before a broken bamboo fence in converse with the wild chrysanthemum, or Linwosing, losing himself amid mysterious fragrance as he wandered in the twilight among the plum-blossoms of the Western Lake. 'Tis said that Chowmushih slept in a boat so that his dreams might mingle with those of the lotus. It was the same spirit which moved the Empress Komio, one of our most renowned Nara sovereigns, as she sang: "If I pluck thee, my hand will defile thee, O flower! Standing in the meadows as thou art, I offer thee to the Buddhas of the past, of the present, of the future."
花を理想的に愛する人は、破れた籬の前に座して野菊と語った陶淵明や、たそがれに、西湖の梅花の間を逍遙しながら、暗香浮動の趣に我れを忘れた林和靖のごとく、花の生まれ故郷に花をたずねる人々である。周茂叔は、彼の夢が蓮の花の夢と混ずるように、舟中に眠ったと伝えられている。この精神こそは奈良朝で有名な光明皇后のみ心を動かしたものであって、「折りつればたぶさにけがるたてながら三世の仏に花たてまつる（三二）。」とお詠みになった。
However, let us not be too sentimental. Let us be less luxurious but more magnificent. Said Laotse: "Heaven and earth are pitiless." Said Kobodaishi: "Flow, flow, flow, flow, the current of life is ever onward. Die, die, die, die, death comes to all." Destruction faces us wherever we turn. Destruction below and above, destruction behind and before. Change is the only Eternal,—why not as welcome Death as Life? They are but counterparts one of the other,—The Night and Day of Brahma. Through the disintegration of the old, re-creation becomes possible. We have worshipped Death, the relentless goddess of mercy, under many different names. It was the shadow of the All-devouring that the Gheburs greeted in the fire. It is the icy purism of the sword-soul before which Shinto-Japan prostrates herself even to-day. The mystic fire consumes our weakness, the sacred sword cleaves the bondage of desire. From our ashes springs the phoenix of celestial hope, out of the freedom comes a higher realisation of manhood.
しかしあまりに感傷的になることはやめよう。奢る事をいっそういましめて、もっと壮大な気持ちになろうではないか。老子いわく「天地不仁（三三）。」弘法大師いわく「生まれ生まれ生まれ生まれて生の始めに暗く、死に死に死に死んで死の終わりに冥し（三四）。」われわれはいずれに向かっても「破壊」に面するのである。上に向かうも破壊、下に向かうも破壊、前にも破壊、後ろにも破壊。変化こそは唯一の永遠である。何ゆえに死を生のごとく喜び迎えないのであるか。この二者はただ互いに相対しているものであって、梵（三五）の昼と夜である。古きものの崩解によって改造が可能となる。われわれは、無情な慈悲の神「死」をば種々の名前であがめて来た。拝火教徒が火中に迎えたものは、「すべてを呑噬するもの」の影であった。今日でも、神道の日本人がその前にひれ伏すところのものは、剣魂の氷のような純潔である。神秘の火はわれらの弱点を焼きつくし、神聖な剣は煩悩のきずなを断つ。われらの屍灰の中から天上の望みという不死の鳥が現われ、煩悩を脱していっそう高い人格が生まれ出て来る。
Why not destroy flowers if thereby we can evolve new forms ennobling the world idea? We only ask them to join in our sacrifice to the beautiful. We shall atone for the deed by consecrating ourselves to Purity and Simplicity. Thus reasoned the tea-masters when they established the Cult of Flowers.
花をちぎる事によって、新たな形を生み出して世人の考えを高尚にする事ができるならば、そうしてもよいではないか。われわれが花に求むるところはただ美に対する奉納を共にせん事にあるのみ。われわれは「純潔」と「清楚」に身をささげる事によってその罪滅ぼしをしよう。こういうふうな論法で、茶人たちは生花の法を定めたのである。
Anyone acquainted with the ways of our tea- and flower-masters must have noticed the religious veneration with which they regard flowers. They do not cull at random, but carefully select each branch or spray with an eye to the artistic composition they have in mind. They would be ashamed should they chance to cut more than were absolutely necessary. It may be remarked in this connection that they always associate the leaves, if there be any, with the flower, for the object is to present the whole beauty of plant life. In this respect, as in many others, their method differs from that pursued in Western countries. Here we are apt to see only the flower stems, heads as it were, without body, stuck promiscuously into a vase.
わが茶や花の宗匠のやり口を知っている人はだれでも、彼らが宗教的の尊敬をもって花を見る事に気がついたに違いない。彼らは一枝一条もみだりに切り取る事をしないで、おのが心に描く美的配合を目的に注意深く選択する。彼らは、もし絶対に必要の度を越えて万一切り取るようなことがあると、これを恥とした。これに関連して言ってもよろしいと思われる事は、彼らはいつも、多少でも葉があればこれを花に添えておくという事である。というのは、彼らの目的は花の生活の全美を表わすにあるから。この点については、その他の多くの点におけると同様、彼らの方法は西洋諸国に行なわれるものとは異なっている。かの国では、花梗のみ、いわば胴のない頭だけが乱雑に花瓶にさしこんであるのをよく見受ける。
When a tea-master has arranged a flower to his satisfaction he will place it on the tokonoma, the place of honour in a Japanese room. Nothing else will be placed near it which might interfere with its effect, not even a painting, unless there be some special aesthetic reason for the combination. It rests there like an enthroned prince, and the guests or disciples on entering the room will salute it with a profound bow before making their addresses to the host. Drawings from masterpieces are made and published for the edification of amateurs. The amount of literature on the subject is quite voluminous. When the flower fades, the master tenderly consigns it to the river or carefully buries it in the ground. Monuments are sometimes erected to their memory.
茶の宗匠が花を満足に生けると、彼はそれを日本間の上座にあたる床の間に置く。その効果を妨げるような物はいっさいその近くにはおかない。たとえば一幅の絵でも、その配合に何か特殊の審美的理由がなければならぬ。花はそこに王位についた皇子のようにすわっている、そして客やお弟子たちは、その室に入るやまずこれに丁寧なおじぎをしてから始めて主人に挨拶をする。生花の傑作を写した絵が素人のために出版せられている。この事に関する文献はかなり大部なものである。花が色あせると宗匠はねんごろにそれを川に流し、または丁寧に地中に埋める。その霊を弔って墓碑を建てる事さえもある。
The birth of the Art of Flower Arrangement seems to be simultaneous with that of Teaism in the fifteenth century. Our legends ascribe the first flower arrangement to those early Buddhist saints who gathered the flowers strewn by the storm and, in their infinite solicitude for all living things, placed them in vessels of water. It is said that Soami, the great painter and connoisseur of the court of Ashikaga-Yoshimasa, was one of the earliest adepts at it. Juko, the tea-master, was one of his pupils, as was also Senno, the founder of the house of Ikenobo, a family as illustrious in the annals of flowers as was that of the Kanos in painting. With the perfecting of the tea-ritual under Rikiu, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, flower arrangement also attains its full growth. Rikiu and his successors, the celebrated Oda-wuraka, Furuka-Oribe, Koyetsu, Kobori-Enshiu, Katagiri-Sekishiu, vied with each other in forming new combinations. We must remember, however, that the flower-worship of the tea-masters formed only a part of their aesthetic ritual, and was not a distinct religion by itself. A flower arrangement, like the other works of art in the tea-room, was subordinated to the total scheme of decoration. Thus Sekishiu ordained that white plum blossoms should not be made use of when snow lay in the garden. "Noisy" flowers were relentlessly banished from the tea-room. A flower arrangement by a tea-master loses its significance if removed from the place for which it was originally intended, for its lines and proportions have been specially worked out with a view to its surroundings.
花道の生まれたのは十五世紀で、茶の湯の起こったのと同時らしく思われる。わが国の伝説によると、始めて花を生けたのは昔の仏教徒であると言う。彼らは生物に対する限りなき心やりのあまり、暴風に散らされた花を集めて、それを水おけに入れたということである。足利義政時代の大画家であり、鑑定家である相阿弥は、初期における花道の大家の一人であったといわれている。茶人珠光はその門人であった。また絵画における狩野家のように、花道の記録に有名な池の坊の家元専能もこの人の門人であった。十六世紀の後半において、利休によって茶道が完成せられるとともに、生花も充分なる発達を遂げた。利休およびその流れをくんだ有名な織田有楽、古田織部、光悦、小堀遠州、片桐石州らは新たな配合を作ろうとして互いに相競った。しかし茶人たちの花の尊崇は、ただ彼らの審美的儀式の一部をなしたに過ぎないのであって、それだけが独立して、別の儀式をなしてはいなかったという事を忘れてはならぬ。生花は茶室にある他の美術品と同様に、装飾の全配合に従属的なものであった。ゆえに石州は「雪が庭に積んでいる時は白い梅花を用いてはならぬ。」と規定した。「けばけばしい」花は無情にも茶室から遠ざけられた。茶人の生けた生花はその本来の目的の場所から取り去ればその趣旨を失うものである。と言うのは、その線やつり合いは特にその周囲のものとの配合を考えてくふうしてあるのであるから。
The adoration of the flower for its own sake begins with the rise of "Flower-Masters," toward the middle of the seventeenth century. It now becomes independent of the tea-room and knows no law save that the vase imposes on it. New conceptions and methods of execution now become possible, and many were the principles and schools resulting therefrom. A writer in the middle of the last century said he could count over one hundred different schools of flower arrangement. Broadly speaking, these divide themselves into two main branches, the Formalistic and the Naturalesque. The Formalistic schools, led by the Ikenobos, aimed at a classic idealism corresponding to that of the Kano-academicians. We possess records of arrangements by the early masters of the school which almost reproduce the flower paintings of Sansetsu and Tsunenobu. The Naturalesque school, on the other hand, accepted nature as its model, only imposing such modifications of form as conduced to the expression of artistic unity. Thus we recognise in its works the same impulses which formed the Ukiyoe and Shijo schools of painting.
花を花だけのために崇拝する事は、十七世紀の中葉、花の宗匠が出るようになって起こったのである。そうなると茶室には関係なく、ただ花瓶が課する法則のほかには全く法則がなくなった。新しい考案、新しい方法ができるようになって、これらから生まれ出た原則や流派がたくさんあった。十九世紀のある文人の言うところによれば、百以上の異なった生花の流派をあげる事ができる。広く言えばこれら諸流は、形式派と写実派の二大流派に分かれる。池の坊を家元とする形式派は、狩野派に相当する古典的理想主義をねらっていた。初期のこの派の宗匠の生花の記録があるが、それは山雪や常信の花の絵をほとんどそのままにうつし出したものである。一方写実派はその名の示すごとく、自然をそのモデルと思って、ただ美的調和を表現する助けとなるような形の修正を加えただけである。ゆえにこの派の作には浮世絵や四条派の絵をなしている気分と同じ気分が認められる。
It would be interesting, had we time, to enter more fully than it is now possible into the laws of composition and detail formulated by the various flower-masters of this period, showing, as they would, the fundamental theories which governed Tokugawa decoration. We find them referring to the Leading Principle (Heaven), the Subordinate Principle (Earth), the Reconciling Principle (Man), and any flower arrangement which did not embody these principles was considered barren and dead. They also dwelt much on the importance of treating a flower in its three different aspects, the Formal, the Semi-Formal, and the Informal. The first might be said to represent flowers in the stately costume of the ballroom, the second in the easy elegance of afternoon dress, the third in the charming deshabille of the boudoir.
時の余裕があれば、この時代の幾多の花の宗匠の定めた生花の法則になお詳細に立ち入って、徳川時代の装飾を支配していた根本原理を明らかにすること（そうすれば明らかになると思われるが）は興味あることであろう。彼らは導く原理（天）、従う原理（地）、和の原理（人）のことを述べている、そしてこれらの原理をかたどらない生花は没趣味な死んだ花であると考えられた。また花を、正式、半正式、略式の三つの異なった姿に生ける必要を詳述している。第一は舞踏場へ出るものものしい服装をした花の姿を現わし、第二はゆったりとした趣のある午後服の姿を現わし、第三は閨房にある美しい平常着の姿を現わすともいわれよう。
Our personal sympathies are with the flower-arrangements of the tea-master rather than with those of the flower-master. The former is art in its proper setting and appeals to us on account of its true intimacy with life. We should like to call this school the Natural in contradistinction to the Naturalesque and Formalistic schools. The tea-master deems his duty ended with the selection of the flowers, and leaves them to tell their own story. Entering a tea-room in late winter, you may see a slender spray of wild cherries in combination with a budding camellia; it is an echo of departing winter coupled with the prophecy of spring. Again, if you go into a noon-tea on some irritatingly hot summer day, you may discover in the darkened coolness of the tokonoma a single lily in a hanging vase; dripping with dew, it seems to smile at the foolishness of life
われらは花の宗匠の生花よりも茶人の生花に対してひそかに同情を持つ。茶人の花は、適当に生けると芸術であって、人生と真に密接な関係を持っているからわれわれの心に訴えるのである。この流派を、写実派および形式派と対称区別して、自然派と呼びたい。茶人たちは、花を選択することでかれらのなすべきことは終わったと考えて、その他のことは花みずからの身の上話にまかせた。晩冬のころ茶室に入れば、野桜の小枝につぼみの椿の取りあわせてあるのを見る。それは去らんとする冬のなごりときたらんとする春の予告を配合したものである。またいらいらするような暑い夏の日に、昼のお茶に行って見れば、床の間の薄暗い涼しい所にかかっている花瓶には、一輪の百合を見るであろう。露のしたたる姿は、人生の愚かさを笑っているように思われる。
A solo of flowers is interesting, but in a concerto with painting and sculpture the combination becomes entrancing. Sekishiu once placed some water-plants in a flat receptacle to suggest the vegetation of lakes and marshes, and on the wall above he hung a painting by Soami of wild ducks flying in the air. Shoha, another tea-master, combined a poem on the Beauty of Solitude by the Sea with a bronze incense burner in the form of a fisherman's hut and some wild flowers of the beach. One of the guests has recorded that he felt in the whole composition the breath of waning autumn.
花の独奏はおもしろいものであるが、絵画、彫刻の協奏曲となれば、その取りあわせには人を恍惚とさせるものがある。石州はかつて湖沼の草木を思わせるように水盤に水草を生けて、上の壁には相阿弥の描いた鴨の空を飛ぶ絵をかけた。紹巴という茶人は、海辺の野花と漁家の形をした青銅の香炉に配するに、海岸のさびしい美しさを歌った和歌をもってした。その客人の一人は、その全配合の中に晩秋の微風を感じたとしるしている。
Flower stories are endless. We shall recount but one more. In the sixteenth century the morning-glory was as yet a rare plant with us. Rikiu had an entire garden planted with it, which he cultivated with assiduous care. The fame of his convulvuli reached the ear of the Taiko, and he expressed a desire to see them, in consequence of which Rikiu invited him to a morning tea at his house. On the appointed day Taiko walked through the garden, but nowhere could he see any vestige of the convulvus. The ground had been leveled and strewn with fine pebbles and sand. With sullen anger the despot entered the tea-room, but a sight waited him there which completely restored his humour. On the tokonoma, in a rare bronze of Sung workmanship, lay a single morning-glory—the queen of the whole garden!
花物語は尽きないが、もう一つだけ語ることにしよう。十六世紀には、朝顔はまだわれわれに珍しかった。利休は庭全体にそれを植えさせて、丹精こめて培養した。利休の朝顔の名が太閤のお耳に達すると太閤はそれを見たいと仰せいだされた。そこで利休はわが家の朝の茶の湯へお招きをした。その日になって太閤は庭じゅうを歩いてごらんになったが、どこを見ても朝顔のあとかたも見えなかった。地面は平らかにして美しい小石や砂がまいてあった。その暴君はむっとした様子で茶室へはいった。しかしそこにはみごとなものが待っていて彼のきげんは全くなおって来た。床の間には宋細工の珍しい青銅の器に、全庭園の女王である一輪の朝顔があった。
In such instances we see the full significance of the Flower Sacrifice. Perhaps the flowers appreciate the full significance of it. They are not cowards, like men. Some flowers glory in death—certainly the Japanese cherry blossoms do, as they freely surrender themselves to the winds. Anyone who has stood before the fragrant avalanche at Yoshino or Arashiyama must have realized this. For a moment they hover like bejewelled clouds and dance above the crystal streams; then, as they sail away on the laughing waters, they seem to say: "Farewell, O Spring! We are on to eternity."
こういう例を見ると、「花御供」の意味が充分にわかる。たぶん花も充分にその真の意味を知るであろう。彼らは人間のような卑怯者ではない。花によっては死を誇りとするものもある。たしかに日本の桜花は、風に身を任せて片々と落ちる時これを誇るものであろう。吉野や嵐山のかおる雪崩の前に立ったことのある人は、だれでもきっとそう感じたであろう。宝石をちりばめた雲のごとく飛ぶことしばし、また水晶の流れの上に舞い、落ちては笑う波の上に身を浮かべて流れながら「いざさらば春よ、われらは永遠の旅に行く。」というようである。
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第七章 茶の宗匠
（read 7）
（YouTube 7） （日本語訳 1）
In religion the Future is behind us. In art the present is the eternal. The tea-masters held that real appreciation of art is only possible to those who make of it a living influence. Thus they sought to regulate their daily life by the high standard of refinement which obtained in the tea-room. In all circumstances serenity of mind should be maintained, and conversation should be conducted as never to mar the harmony of the surroundings. The cut and color of the dress, the poise of the body, and the manner of walking could all be made expressions of artistic personality. These were matters not to be lightly ignored, for until one has made himself beautiful he has no right to approach beauty. Thus the tea-master strove to be something more than the artist,—art itself. It was the Zen of aestheticism. Perfection is everywhere if we only choose to recognise it. Rikiu loved to quote an old poem which says: "To those who long only for flowers, fain would I show the full-blown spring which abides in the toiling buds of snow-covered hills."
宗教においては未来がわれらの背後にある。芸術においては現在が永遠である。茶の宗匠の考えによれば芸術を真に鑑賞することは、ただ芸術から生きた力を生み出す人々にのみ可能である。ゆえに彼らは茶室において得た風流の高い軌範によって彼らの日常生活を律しようと努めた。すべての場合に心の平静を保たねばならぬ、そして談話は周囲の調和を決して乱さないように行なわなければならぬ。着物の格好や色彩、身体の均衡や歩行の様子などすべてが芸術的人格の表現でなければならぬ。これらの事がらは軽視することのできないものであった。というのは、人はおのれを美しくして始めて美に近づく権利が生まれるのであるから。かようにして宗匠たちはただの芸術家以上のものすなわち芸術そのものとなろうと努めた。それは審美主義の禅であった。われらに認めたい心さえあれば完全は至るところにある。利休は好んで次の古歌を引用した。
Manifold indeed have been the contributions of the tea-masters to art. They completely revolutionised the classical architecture and interior decorations, and established the new style which we have described in the chapter of the tea-room, a style to whose influence even the palaces and monasteries built after the sixteenth century have all been subject. The many-sided Kobori-Enshiu has left notable examples of his genius in the Imperial villa of Katsura, the castles of Nagoya and Nijo, and the monastery of Kohoan. All the celebrated gardens of Japan were laid out by the tea-masters. Our pottery would probably never have attained its high quality of excellence if the tea-masters had not lent it to their inspiration, the manufacture of the utensils used in the tea-ceremony calling forth the utmost expenditure of ingenuity on the parts of our ceramists. The Seven Kilns of Enshiu are well known to all students of Japanese pottery. Many of our textile fabrics bear the names of tea-masters who conceived their color or design. It is impossible, indeed, to find any department of art in which the tea-masters have not left marks of their genius. In painting and lacquer it seems almost superfluous to mention the immense services they have rendered. One of the greatest schools of painting owes its origin to the tea-master Honnami-Koyetsu, famed also as a lacquer artist and potter. Beside his works, the splendid creation of his grandson, Koho, and of his grand-nephews, Korin and Kenzan, almost fall into the shade. The whole Korin school, as it is generally designated, is an expression of Teaism. In the broad lines of this school we seem to find the vitality of nature herself.
花をのみ待つらん人に山里の雪間の草の春を見せばや（三六）
茶の宗匠たちの芸術に対する貢献は実に多方面にわたっていた。彼らは古典的建築および屋内の装飾を全く革新して、前に茶室の章で述べた新しい型を確立した。その影響は十六世紀以後に建てられた宮殿寺院さえも皆これをうけている。多能な小堀遠州は、桂の離宮、名古屋の城および孤篷庵に、彼が天才の著名な実例をのこしている。日本の有名な庭園は皆茶人によって設計せられたものである。わが国の陶器はもし彼らが鼓舞を与えてくれなかったら、優良な品質にはたぶんならなかったであろう。茶の湯に用いられた器具の製造のために、製陶業者のほうではあらん限りの新くふうの知恵を絞ったのであった。遠州の七窯は日本の陶器研究者の皆よく知っているところである。わが国の織物の中には、その色彩や意匠を考案した宗匠の名を持っているものが多い。実際、芸術のいかなる方面にも、茶の宗匠がその天才の跡をのこしていないところはない。絵画、漆器に関しては彼らの尽くした莫大の貢献についていうのはほとんど贅言と思われる。絵画の一大派はその源を、茶人であり同時にまた塗師、陶器師として有名な本阿弥光悦に発している。彼の作品に比すれば、その孫の光甫や甥の子光琳および乾山の立派な作もほとんど光を失うのである。いわゆる光琳派はすべて、茶道の表現である。この派の描く太い線の中に、自然そのものの生気が存するように思われる。
Great as has been the influence of the tea-masters in the field of art, it is as nothing compared to that which they have exerted on the conduct of life. Not only in the usages of polite society, but also in the arrangement of all our domestic details, do we feel the presence of the tea-masters. Many of our delicate dishes, as well as our way of serving food, are their inventions. They have taught us to dress only in garments of sober colors. They have instructed us in the proper spirit in which to approach flowers. They have given emphasis to our natural love of simplicity, and shown us the beauty of humility. In fact, through their teachings tea has entered the life of the people
茶の宗匠が芸術界に及ぼした影響は偉大なものではあったが、彼らが処世上に及ぼした影響の大なるに比すれば、ほとんど取るに足らないものである。上流社会の慣例におけるのみならず、家庭の些事の整理に至るまで、われわれは茶の宗匠の存在を感ずるのである。配膳法はもとより、美味の膳部の多くは彼らの創案したものである。彼らは落ち着いた色の衣服をのみ着用せよと教えた。また生花に接する正しい精神を教えてくれた。彼らは、人間は生来簡素を愛するものであると強調して、人情の美しさを示してくれた。実際、彼らの教えによって茶は国民の生活の中にはいったのである。
Those of us who know not the secret of properly regulating our own existence on this tumultuous sea of foolish troubles which we call life are constantly in a state of misery while vainly trying to appear happy and contented. We stagger in the attempt to keep our moral equilibrium, and see forerunners of the tempest in every cloud that floats on the horizon. Yet there is joy and beauty in the roll of billows as they sweep outward toward eternity. Why not enter into their spirit, or, like Liehtse, ride upon the hurricane itself?
この人生という、愚かな苦労の波の騒がしい海の上の生活を、適当に律してゆく道を知らない人々は、外観は幸福に、安んじているようにと努めながらも、そのかいもなく絶えず悲惨な状態にいる。われわれは心の安定を保とうとしてはよろめき、水平線上に浮かぶ雲にことごとく暴風雨の前兆を見る。しかしながら、永遠に向かって押し寄せる波濤のうねりの中に、喜びと美しさが存している。何ゆえにその心をくまないのであるか、また列子のごとく風そのものに御しないのであるか。
He only who has lived with the beautiful can die beautifully. The last moments of the great tea-masters were as full of exquisite refinement as had been their lives. Seeking always to be in harmony with the great rhythm of the universe, they were ever prepared to enter the unknown. The "Last Tea of Rikiu" will stand forth forever as the acme of tragic grandeur.
美を友として世を送った人のみが麗しい往生をすることができる。大宗匠たちの臨終はその生涯と同様に絶妙都雅なものであった。彼らは常に宇宙の大調和と和しようと努め、いつでも冥土へ行くの覚悟をしていた。利休の「最後の茶の湯」は悲壮の極として永久にかがやくであろう。
Long had been the friendship between Rikiu and the Taiko-Hideyoshi, and high the estimation in which the great warrior held the tea-master. But the friendship of a despot is ever a dangerous honour. It was an age rife with treachery, and men trusted not even their nearest kin. Rikiu was no servile courtier, and had often dared to differ in argument with his fierce patron. Taking advantage of the coldness which had for some time existed between the Taiko and Rikiu, the enemies of the latter accused him of being implicated in a conspiracy to poison the despot. It was whispered to Hideyoshi that the fatal potion was to be administered to him with a cup of the green beverage prepared by the tea-master. With Hideyoshi suspicion was sufficient ground for instant execution, and there was no appeal from the will of the angry ruler. One privilege alone was granted to the condemned—the honor of dying by his own hand.
利休と太閤秀吉との友誼は長いものであって、この偉大な武人が茶の宗匠を尊重したことも非常なものであった。しかし暴君の友誼はいつも危険な光栄である。その時代は不信にみちた時代であって、人は近親の者さえも信頼しなかった。利休は媚びへつらう佞人ではなかったから、恐ろしい彼の後援者と議論して、しばしば意見を異にするをもはばからなかった。太閤と利休の間にしばらく冷ややかな感情のあったのを幸いに、利休を憎む者どもは利休がその暴君を毒害しようとする一味の連累であると言った。宗匠のたてる一碗の緑色飲料とともに、命にかかわる毒薬が盛られることになっているということが、ひそかに秀吉の耳にはいった。秀吉においては、嫌疑があるというだけでも即時死刑にする充分な理由であった、そしてその怒れる支配者の意に従うよりほかに哀訴の道もなかったのである。死刑囚にただ一つの特権が許された、すなわち自害するという光栄である。
On the day destined for his self-immolation, Rikiu invited his chief disciples to a last tea-ceremony. Mournfully at the appointed time the guests met at the portico. As they look into the garden path the trees seem to shudder, and in the rustling of their leaves are heard the whispers of homeless ghosts. Like solemn sentinels before the gates of Hades stand the grey stone lanterns. A wave of rare incense is wafted from the tea-room; it is the summons which bids the guests to enter. One by one they advance and take their places. In the tokonoma hangs a kakemon,—a wonderful writing by an ancient monk dealing with the evanescence of all earthly things. The singing kettle, as it boils over the brazier, sounds like some cicada pouring forth his woes to departing summer. Soon the host enters the room. Each in turn is served with tea, and each in turn silently drains his cup, the host last of all. according to established etiquette, the chief guest now asks permission to examine the tea-equipage. Rikiu places the various articles before them, with the kakemono. After all have expressed admiration of their beauty, Rikiu presents one of them to each of the assembled company as a souvenir. The bowl alone he keeps. "Never again shall this cup, polluted by the lips of misfortune, be used by man." He speaks, and breaks the vessel into fragments.
利休が自己犠牲をすることに定められた日に、彼はおもなる門人を最後の茶の湯に招いた。客は悲しげに定刻待合に集まった。庭径をながむれば樹木も戦慄するように思われ、木の葉のさらさらとそよぐ音にも、家なき亡者の私語が聞こえる。地獄の門前にいるまじめくさった番兵のように、灰色の燈籠が立っている。珍香の香が一時に茶室から浮動して来る。それは客にはいれとつげる招きである。一人ずつ進み出ておのおのその席につく。床の間には掛け物がかかっている、それは昔ある僧の手になった不思議な書であって浮世のはかなさをかいたものである。火鉢にかかって沸いている茶釜の音には、ゆく夏を惜しみ悲痛な思いを鳴いている蝉の声がする。やがて主人が室に入る。おのおの順次に茶をすすめられ、順次に黙々としてこれを飲みほして、最後に主人が飲む。定式に従って、主賓がそこでお茶器拝見を願う。利休は例の掛け物とともにいろいろな品を客の前におく。皆の者がその美しさをたたえて後、利休はその器を一つずつ一座の者へ形見として贈る。茶わんのみは自分でとっておく。「不幸の人のくちびるによって不浄になった器は決して再び人間には使用させない。」と言ってかれはこれをなげうって粉砕する。
The ceremony is over; the guests with difficulty restraining their tears, take their last farewell and leave the room. One only, the nearest and dearest, is requested to remain and witness the end. Rikiu then removes his tea-gown and carefully folds it upon the mat, thereby disclosing the immaculate white death robe which it had hitherto concealed. Tenderly he gazes on the shining blade of the fatal dagger, and in exquisite verse thus addresses it:
その式は終わった、客は涙をおさえかね、最後の訣別をして室を出て行く。彼に最も親密な者がただ一人、あとに残って最期を見届けてくれるようにと頼まれる。そこで利休は茶会の服を脱いで、だいじにたたんで畳の上におく、それでその時まで隠れていた清浄無垢な白い死に装束があらわれる。彼は短剣の輝く刀身を恍惚とながめて、次の絶唱を詠む。
"Welcome to thee, O sword of eternity! Through Buddha And through Dharuma alike Thou hast cleft thy way."
人生七十 力囲希咄 吾が這の宝剣 祖仏共に殺す（三七）
With a smile upon his face Rikiu passed forth into the unknown.
笑みを顔にうかべながら、利休は冥土へ行ったのであった。
底本：「茶の本」岩波文庫、岩波書店
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茶はもともと薬として用いられ、やがて飲みものへと育った。8世紀の中国では、優雅な楽しみとして詩に歌われるようになった。15世紀になると日本において美を追求する宗教――
茶道にまで高められた。茶道あるいは茶の湯は日常のありふれたものごとの中に美しさを見出して崇拝する一種の宗教儀式であり、清らかさと調和、思いやりの妙、
理想主義的な社会秩序を説く。茶道の本質は「不完全さ」を崇拝することにある。それは、人生というままならぬ営みの中で何か可能なものを成就しようとするたおやかな試みだからである。
茶を支える哲学は、普通に考えらえているような単なる審美主義ではない。倫理や宗教と一体となって、人と自然とに関するわれわれの見方すべてを表現するものだからである。清潔を旨とするがゆえに衛生学であり、複雑さや贅沢さにではなく簡素さに喜びを見出すことから「経済学」であり、宇宙に対する平衡感覚を定義するという点において精神の「幾何学」である。そして、愛好家たちをみな趣味の世界の貴族にするという点で「東洋的民主主義の真髄」を体現する。
Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage. In China, in the eighth century, it entered the realm of poetry as one of the polite amusements. The fifteenth century saw Japan ennoble it into a religion of aestheticism—Teaism. Teaism is a cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence. It inculcates purity and harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order. It is essentially a worship of the Imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.
The Philosophy of Tea is not mere aestheticism in the ordinary acceptance of the term, for it expresses conjointly with ethics and religion our whole point of view about man and nature. It is hygiene, for it enforces cleanliness; it is economics, for it shows comfort in simplicity rather than in the complex and costly; it is moral geometry, inasmuch as it defines our sense of proportion to the universe. It represents the true spirit of Eastern democracy by making all its votaries aristocrats in taste.
The long isolation of Japan from the rest of the world, so conducive to introspection, has been highly favourable to the development of Teaism. Our home and habits, costume and cuisine, porcelain, lacquer, painting—our very literature—all have been subject to its influence. No student of Japanese culture could ever ignore its presence. It has permeated the elegance of noble boudoirs, and entered the abode of the humble. Our peasants have learned to arrange flowers, our meanest labourer to offer his salutation to the rocks and waters. In our common parlance we speak of the man "with no tea" in him, when he is insusceptible to the serio-comic interests of the personal drama. Again we stigmatise the untamed aesthete who, regardless of the mundane tragedy, runs riot in the springtide of emancipated emotions, as one "with too much tea" in him.
The outsider may indeed wonder at this seeming much ado about nothing. What a tempest in a tea-cup! he will say. But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup. Mankind has done worse. In the worship of Bacchus, we have sacrificed too freely; and we have even transfigured the gory image of Mars. Why not consecrate ourselves to the queen of the Camelias, and revel in the warm stream of sympathy that flows from her altar? In the liquid amber within the ivory-porcelain, the initiated may touch the sweet reticence of Confucius, the piquancy of Laotse, and the ethereal aroma of Sakyamuni himself.
Those who cannot feel the littleness of great things in themselves are apt to overlook the greatness of little things in others. The average Westerner, in his sleek complacency, will see in the tea ceremony but another instance of the thousand and one oddities which constitute the quaintness and childishness of the East to him. He was wont to regard Japan as barbarous while she indulged in the gentle arts of peace: he calls her civilised since she began to commit wholesale slaughter on Manchurian battlefields. Much comment has been given lately to the Code of the Samurai,—the Art of Death which makes our soldiers exult in self-sacrifice; but scarcely any attention has been drawn to Teaism, which represents so much of our Art of Life. Fain would we remain barbarians, if our claim to civilisation were to be based on the gruesome glory of war. Fain would we await the time when due respect shall be paid to our art and ideals.
When will the West understand, or try to understand, the East? We Asiatics are often appalled by the curious web of facts and fancies which has been woven concerning us. We are pictured as living on the perfume of the lotus, if not on mice and cockroaches. It is either impotent fanaticism or else abject voluptuousness. Indian spirituality has been derided as ignorance, Chinese sobriety as stupidity, Japanese patriotism as the result of fatalism. It has been said that we are less sensible to pain and wounds on account of the callousness of our nervous organisation!
Why not amuse yourselves at our expense? Asia returns the compliment. There would be further food for merriment if you were to know all that we have imagined and written about you. All the glamour of the perspective is there, all the unconscious homage of wonder, all the silent resentment of the new and undefined. You have been loaded with virtues too refined to be envied, and accused of crimes too picturesque to be condemned. Our writers in the past—the wise men who knew—informed us that you had bushy tails somewhere hidden in your garments, and often dined off a fricassee of newborn babes! Nay, we had something worse against you: we used to think you the most impracticable people on the earth, for you were said to preach what you never practiced.
Such misconceptions are fast vanishing amongst us. Commerce has forced the European tongues on many an Eastern port. Asiatic youths are flocking to Western colleges for the equipment of modern education. Our insight does not penetrate your culture deeply, but at least we are willing to learn. Some of my compatriots have adopted too much of your customs and too much of your etiquette, in the delusion that the acquisition of stiff collars and tall silk hats comprised the attainment of your civilisation. Pathetic and deplorable as such affectations are, they evince our willingness to approach the West on our knees. Unfortunately the Western attitude is unfavourable to the understanding of the East. The Christian missionary goes to impart, but not to receive. Your information is based on the meagre translations of our immense literature, if not on the unreliable anecdotes of passing travellers. It is rarely that the chivalrous pen of a Lafcadio Hearn or that of the author of "The Web of Indian Life" enlivens the Oriental darkness with the torch of our own sentiments.
Perhaps I betray my own ignorance of the Tea Cult by being so outspoken. Its very spirit of politeness exacts that you say what you are expected to say, and no more. But I am not to be a polite Teaist. So much harm has been done already by the mutual misunderstanding of the New World and the Old, that one need not apologise for contributing his tithe to the furtherance of a better understanding. The beginning of the twentieth century would have been spared the spectacle of sanguinary warfare if Russia had condescended to know Japan better. What dire consequences to humanity lie in the contemptuous ignoring of Eastern problems! European imperialism, which does not disdain to raise the absurd cry of the Yellow Peril, fails to realise that Asia may also awaken to the cruel sense of the White Disaster. You may laugh at us for having "too much tea," but may we not suspect that you of the West have "no tea" in your constitution?
Let us stop the continents from hurling epigrams at each other, and be sadder if not wiser by the mutual gain of half a hemisphere. We have developed along different lines, but there is no reason why one should not supplement the other. You have gained expansion at the cost of restlessness; we have created a harmony which is weak against aggression. Will you believe it?—the East is better off in some respects than the West!
Strangely enough humanity has so far met in the tea-cup. It is the only Asiatic ceremonial which commands universal esteem. The white man has scoffed at our religion and our morals, but has accepted the brown beverage without hesitation. The afternoon tea is now an important function in Western society. In the delicate clatter of trays and saucers, in the soft rustle of feminine hospitality, in the common catechism about cream and sugar, we know that the Worship of Tea is established beyond question. The philosophic resignation of the guest to the fate awaiting him in the dubious decoction proclaims that in this single instance the Oriental spirit reigns supreme.
The earliest record of tea in European writing is said to be found in the statement of an Arabian traveller, that after the year 879 the main sources of revenue in Canton were the duties on salt and tea. Marco Polo records the deposition of a Chinese minister of finance in 1285 for his arbitrary augmentation of the tea-taxes. It was at the period of the great discoveries that the European people began to know more about the extreme Orient. At the end of the sixteenth century the Hollanders brought the news that a pleasant drink was made in the East from the leaves of a bush. The travellers Giovanni Batista Ramusio (1559), L. Almeida (1576), Maffeno (1588), Tareira (1610), also mentioned tea. In the last-named year ships of the Dutch East India Company brought the first tea into Europe. It was known in France in 1636, and reached Russia in 1638. England welcomed it in 1650 and spoke of it as "That excellent and by all physicians approved China drink, called by the Chineans Tcha, and by other nations Tay, alias Tee."
Like all good things of the world, the propaganda of Tea met with opposition. Heretics like Henry Saville (1678) denounced drinking it as a filthy custom. Jonas Hanway (Essay on Tea, 1756) said that men seemed to lose their stature and comeliness, women their beauty through the use of tea. Its cost at the start (about fifteen or sixteen shillings a pound) forbade popular consumption, and made it "regalia for high treatments and entertainments, presents being made thereof to princes and grandees." Yet in spite of such drawbacks tea-drinking spread with marvelous rapidity. The coffee-houses of London in the early half of the eighteenth century became, in fact, tea-houses, the resort of wits like Addison and Steele, who beguiled themselves over their "dish of tea." The beverage soon became a necessity of life—a taxable matter. We are reminded in this connection what an important part it plays in modern history. Colonial America resigned herself to oppression until human endurance gave way before the heavy duties laid on Tea. American independence dates from the throwing of tea-chests into Boston harbour.
There is a subtle charm in the taste of tea which makes it irresistible and capable of idealisation. Western humourists were not slow to mingle the fragrance of their thought with its aroma. It has not the arrogance of wine, the self-consciousness of coffee, nor the simpering innocence of cocoa. Already in 1711, says the Spectator: "I would therefore in a particular manner recommend these my speculations to all well-regulated families that set apart an hour every morning for tea, bread and butter; and would earnestly advise them for their good to order this paper to be punctually served up and to be looked upon as a part of the tea-equipage." Samuel Johnson draws his own portrait as "a hardened and shameless tea drinker, who for twenty years diluted his meals with only the infusion of the fascinating plant; who with tea amused the evening, with tea solaced the midnight, and with tea welcomed the morning."
Charles Lamb, a professed devotee, sounded the true note of Teaism when he wrote that the greatest pleasure he knew was to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident. For Teaism is the art of concealing beauty that you may discover it, of suggesting what you dare not reveal. It is the noble secret of laughing at yourself, calmly yet thoroughly, and is thus humour itself,—the smile of philosophy. All genuine humourists may in this sense be called tea-philosophers, Thackeray, for instance, and of course, Shakespeare. The poets of the Decadence (when was not the world in decadence?), in their protests against materialism, have, to a certain extent, also opened the way to Teaism. Perhaps nowadays it is our demure contemplation of the Imperfect that the West and the East can meet in mutual consolation.
The Taoists relate that at the great beginning of the No-Beginning, Spirit and Matter met in mortal combat. At last the Yellow Emperor, the Sun of Heaven, triumphed over Shuhyung, the demon of darkness and earth. The Titan, in his death agony, struck his head against the solar vault and shivered the blue dome of jade into fragments. The stars lost their nests, the moon wandered aimlessly among the wild chasms of the night. In despair the Yellow Emperor sought far and wide for the repairer of the Heavens. He had not to search in vain. Out of the Eastern sea rose a queen, the divine Niuka, horn-crowned and dragon-tailed, resplendent in her armor of fire. She welded the five-coloured rainbow in her magic cauldron and rebuilt the Chinese sky. But it is told that Niuka forgot to fill two tiny crevices in the blue firmament. Thus began the dualism of love—two souls rolling through space and never at rest until they join together to complete the universe. Everyone has to build anew his sky of hope and peace.
The heaven of modern humanity is indeed shattered in the Cyclopean struggle for wealth and power. The world is groping in the shadow of egotism and vulgarity. Knowledge is bought through a bad conscience, benevolence practiced for the sake of utility. The East and the West, like two dragons tossed in a sea of ferment, in vain strive to regain the jewel of life. We need a Niuka again to repair the grand devastation; we await the great Avatar. Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.
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茶の変遷 （内容抜粋）
日本の茶の湯の中にこそ茶の理想の完成形が見られる。1281年に蒙古民族の侵略を見事に撃退した日本は、中国では蒙古民族の侵略によって無残にも断たれた宋の文化を継承発展させることができた。
日本人にとっての茶は、飲み方を理想化したにとどまらず、よりよく生きるための宗教になった。茶は、清らかさと優雅さを崇拝する理由づけとなり、茶会の主催者である亭主と客が協力しあって、その場をこの世の最上のものとする神聖な機能を果たすこととなった。茶室は人生という殺伐とした荒野におけるオアシスであり、疲れ果てた旅人はここに集い、美術鑑賞という公《おおやけ》の泉から水を飲むのである。
茶の湯は、茶と花と絵画とを中心に筋立てされた即興劇であり、茶室の調子を乱す色ひとつなく、もののリズムを崩す音ひとつなく、調和を破るしぐさひとつなく、周囲の統一を破る言葉ひとつなく、すべての動きがむだなく自然に演じられる――それこそが茶の湯の目指すところであった。
Tea is a work of art and needs a master hand to bring out its noblest qualities. We have good and bad tea, as we have good and bad paintings—generally the latter. There is no single recipe for making the perfect tea, as there are no rules for producing a Titian or a Sesson. Each preparation of the leaves has its individuality, its special affinity with water and heat, its own method of telling a story. The truly beautiful must always be in it. How much do we not suffer through the constant failure of society to recognise this simple and fundamental law of art and life; Lichilai, a Sung poet, has sadly remarked that there were three most deplorable things in the world: the spoiling of fine youths through false education, the degradation of fine art through vulgar admiration, and the utter waste of fine tea through incompetent manipulation.
Like Art, Tea has its periods and its schools. Its evolution may be roughly divided into three main stages: the Boiled Tea, the Whipped Tea, and the Steeped Tea. We moderns belong to the last school. These several methods of appreciating the beverage are indicative of the spirit of the age in which they prevailed. For life is an expression, our unconscious actions the constant betrayal of our innermost thought. Confucius said that "man hideth not." Perhaps we reveal ourselves too much in small things because we have so little of the great to conceal. The tiny incidents of daily routine are as much a commentary of racial ideals as the highest flight of philosophy or poetry. Even as the difference in favorite vintage marks the separate idiosyncrasies of different periods and nationalities of Europe, so the Tea-ideals characterise the various moods of Oriental culture. The Cake-tea which was boiled, the Powdered-tea which was whipped, the Leaf-tea which was steeped, mark the distinct emotional impulses of the Tang, the Sung, and the Ming dynasties of China. If we were inclined to borrow the much-abused terminology of art-classification, we might designate them respectively, the Classic, the Romantic, and the Naturalistic schools of Tea.
The tea-plant, a native of southern China, was known from very early times to Chinese botany and medicine. It is alluded to in the classics under the various names of Tou, Tseh, Chung, Kha, and Ming, and was highly prized for possessing the virtues of relieving fatigue, delighting the soul, strengthening the will, and repairing the eyesight. It was not only administered as an internal dose, but often applied externally in form of paste to alleviate rheumatic pains. The Taoists claimed it as an important ingredient of the elixir of immortality. The Buddhists used it extensively to prevent drowsiness during their long hours of meditation.
By the fourth and fifth centuries Tea became a favourite beverage among the inhabitants of the Yangtse-Kiang valley. It was about this time that modern ideograph Cha was coined, evidently a corruption of the classic Tou. The poets of the southern dynasties have left some fragments of their fervent adoration of the "froth of the liquid jade." Then emperors used to bestow some rare preparation of the leaves on their high ministers as a reward for eminent services. Yet the method of drinking tea at this stage was primitive in the extreme. The leaves were steamed, crushed in a mortar, made into a cake, and boiled together with rice, ginger, salt, orange peel, spices, milk, and sometimes with onions! The custom obtains at the present day among the Thibetans and various Mongolian tribes, who make a curious syrup of these ingredients. The use of lemon slices by the Russians, who learned to take tea from the Chinese caravansaries, points to the survival of the ancient method.
It needed the genius of the Tang dynasty to emancipate Tea from its crude state and lead to its final idealization. With Luwuh in the middle of the eighth century we have our first apostle of tea. He was born in an age when Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism were seeking mutual synthesis. The pantheistic symbolism of the time was urging one to mirror the Universal in the Particular. Luwuh, a poet, saw in the Tea-service the same harmony and order which reigned through all things. In his celebrated work, the "Chaking" (The Holy Scripture of Tea) he formulated the Code of Tea. He has since been worshipped as the tutelary god of the Chinese tea merchants.
The "Chaking" consists of three volumes and ten chapters. In the first chapter Luwuh treats of the nature of the tea-plant, in the second of the implements for gathering the leaves, in the third of the selection of the leaves. According to him the best quality of the leaves must have "creases like the leathern boot of Tartar horsemen, curl like the dewlap of a mighty bullock, unfold like a mist rising out of a ravine, gleam like a lake touched by a zephyr, and be wet and soft like fine earth newly swept by rain."
The fourth chapter is devoted to the enumeration and description of the twenty-four members of the tea-equipage, beginning with the tripod brazier and ending with the bamboo cabinet for containing all these utensils. Here we notice Luwuh's predilection for Taoist symbolism. Also it is interesting to observe in this connection the influence of tea on Chinese ceramics. The Celestial porcelain, as is well known, had its origin in an attempt to reproduce the exquisite shade of jade, resulting, in the Tang dynasty, in the blue glaze of the south, and the white glaze of the north. Luwuh considered the blue as the ideal colour for the tea-cup, as it lent additional greenness to the beverage, whereas the white made it look pinkish and distasteful. It was because he used cake-tea. Later on, when the tea masters of Sung took to the powdered tea, they preferred heavy bowls of blue-black and dark brown. The Mings, with their steeped tea, rejoiced in light ware of white porcelain.
In the fifth chapter Luwuh describes the method of making tea. He eliminates all ingredients except salt. He dwells also on the much-discussed question of the choice of water and the degree of boiling it. According to him, the mountain spring is the best, the river water and the spring water come next in the order of excellence. There are three stages of boiling: the first boil is when the little bubbles like the eye of fishes swim on the surface; the second boil is when the bubbles are like crystal beads rolling in a fountain; the third boil is when the billows surge wildly in the kettle. The Cake-tea is roasted before the fire until it becomes soft like a baby's arm and is shredded into powder between pieces of fine paper. Salt is put in the first boil, the tea in the second. At the third boil, a dipperful of cold water is poured into the kettle to settle the tea and revive the "youth of the water." Then the beverage was poured into cups and drunk. O nectar! The filmy leaflet hung like scaly clouds in a serene sky or floated like waterlilies on emerald streams. It was of such a beverage that Lotung, a Tang poet, wrote: "The first cup moistens my lips and throat, the second cup breaks my loneliness, the third cup searches my barren entrail but to find therein some five thousand volumes of odd ideographs. The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration,—all the wrong of life passes away through my pores. At the fifth cup I am purified; the sixth cup calls me to the realms of the immortals. The seventh cup—ah, but I could take no more! I only feel the breath of cool wind that rises in my sleeves. Where is Horaisan? Let me ride on this sweet breeze and waft away thither."
The remaining chapters of the "Chaking" treat of the vulgarity of the ordinary methods of tea-drinking, a historical summary of illustrious tea-drinkers, the famous tea plantations of China, the possible variations of the tea-service and illustrations of the tea-utensils. The last is unfortunately lost.
The appearance of the "Chaking" must have created considerable sensation at the time. Luwuh was befriended by the Emperor Taisung (763-779), and his fame attracted many followers. Some exquisites were said to have been able to detect the tea made by Luwuh from that of his disciples. One mandarin has his name immortalised by his failure to appreciate the tea of this great master.
In the Sung dynasty the whipped tea came into fashion and created the second school of Tea. The leaves were ground to fine powder in a small stone mill, and the preparation was whipped in hot water by a delicate whisk made of split bamboo. The new process led to some change in the tea-equipage of Luwuh, as well as in the choice of leaves. Salt was discarded forever. The enthusiasm of the Sung people for tea knew no bounds. Epicures vied with each other in discovering new varieties, and regular tournaments were held to decide their superiority. The Emperor Kiasung (1101-1124), who was too great an artist to be a well-behaved monarch, lavished his treasures on the attainment of rare species. He himself wrote a dissertation on the twenty kinds of tea, among which he prizes the "white tea" as of the rarest and finest quality.
The tea-ideal of the Sungs differed from the Tangs even as their notion of life differed. They sought to actualize what their predecessors tried to symbolise. To the Neo-Confucian mind the cosmic law was not reflected in the phenomenal world, but the phenomenal world was the cosmic law itself. Aeons were but moments—Nirvana always within grasp. The Taoist conception that immortality lay in the eternal change permeated all their modes of thought. It was the process, not the deed, which was interesting. It was the completing, not the completion, which was really vital. Man came thus at once face to face with nature. A new meaning grew into the art of life. The tea began to be not a poetical pastime, but one of the methods of self-realisation. Wangyucheng eulogised tea as "flooding his soul like a direct appeal, that its delicate bitterness reminded him of the aftertaste of a good counsel." Sotumpa wrote of the strength of the immaculate purity in tea which defied corruption as a truly virtuous man. Among the Buddhists, the southern Zen sect, which incorporated so much of Taoist doctrines, formulated an elaborate ritual of tea. The monks gathered before the image of Bodhi Dharma and drank tea out of a single bowl with the profound formality of a holy sacrament. It was this Zen ritual which finally developed into the Tea-ceremony of Japan in the fifteenth century.
Unfortunately the sudden outburst of the Mongol tribes in the thirteenth century which resulted in the devastation and conquest of China under the barbaric rule of the Yuen Emperors, destroyed all the fruits of Sung culture. The native dynasty of the Mings which attempted re-nationalisation in the middle of the fifteenth century was harassed by internal troubles, and China again fell under the alien rule of the Manchus in the seventeenth century. Manners and customs changed to leave no vestige of the former times. The powdered tea is entirely forgotten. We find a Ming commentator at loss to recall the shape of the tea whisk mentioned in one of the Sung classics. Tea is now taken by steeping the leaves in hot water in a bowl or cup. The reason why the Western world is innocent of the older method of drinking tea is explained by the fact that Europe knew it only at the close of the Ming dynasty.
To the latter-day Chinese tea is a delicious beverage, but not an ideal. The long woes of his country have robbed him of the zest for the meaning of life. He has become modern, that is to say, old and disenchanted. He has lost that sublime faith in illusions which constitutes the eternal youth and vigour of the poets and ancients. He is an eclectic and politely accepts the traditions of the universe. He toys with Nature, but does not condescend to conquer or worship her. His Leaf-tea is often wonderful with its flower-like aroma, but the romance of the Tang and Sung ceremonials are not to be found in his cup.
Japan, which followed closely on the footsteps of Chinese civilisation, has known the tea in all its three stages. As early as the year 729 we read of the Emperor Shomu giving tea to one hundred monks at his palace in Nara. The leaves were probably imported by our ambassadors to the Tang Court and prepared in the way then in fashion. In 801 the monk Saicho brought back some seeds and planted them in Yeisan. Many tea-gardens are heard of in succeeding centuries, as well as the delight of the aristocracy and priesthood in the beverage. The Sung tea reached us in 1191 with the return of Yeisai-zenji, who went there to study the southern Zen school. The new seeds which he carried home were successfully planted in three places, one of which, the Uji district near Kioto, bears still the name of producing the best tea in the world. The southern Zen spread with marvelous rapidity, and with it the tea-ritual and the tea-ideal of the Sung. By the fifteenth century, under the patronage of the Shogun, Ashikaga-Voshinasa, the tea ceremony is fully constituted and made into an independent and secular performance. Since then Teaism is fully established in Japan. The use of the steeped tea of the later China is comparatively recent among us, being only known since the middle of the seventeenth century. It has replaced the powdered tea in ordinary consumption, though the latter still continues to hold its place as the tea of teas.
It is in the Japanese tea ceremony that we see the culmination of tea-ideals. Our successful resistance of the Mongol invasion in 1281 had enabled us to carry on the Sung movement so disastrously cut off in China itself through the nomadic inroad. Tea with us became more than an idealisation of the form of drinking; it is a religion of the art of life. The beverage grew to be an excuse for the worship of purity and refinement, a sacred function at which the host and guest joined to produce for that occasion the utmost beatitude of the mundane. The tea-room was an oasis in the dreary waste of existence where weary travellers could meet to drink from the common spring of art-appreciation. The ceremony was an improvised drama whose plot was woven about the tea, the flowers, and the paintings. Not a colour to disturb the tone of the room, not a sound to mar the rhythm of things, not a gesture to obtrude on the harmony, not a word to break the unity of the surroundings, all movements to be performed simply and naturally—such were the aims of the tea-ceremony. And strangely enough it was often successful. A subtle philosophy lay behind it all. Teaism was Taoism in disguise.
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道教と禅 （内容抜粋）
禅と茶の湯の結びつきはよく知られている。すでに述べたように、茶の湯は禅の儀式から発展した。道教の創始者である老子の名もまた、茶の歴史と密接に結びついている。中国の風俗習慣の由来について書いた中国の教科書には、客に茶をふるまう儀礼は、老子の高名な門弟である関尹《かんいん》に始まったと書かれている。関尹は中国河南省にある有名な関所・函谷関《かんこくかん》で老子に金色《こんじき》の仙薬を一杯ふるまったという。この話の真偽を云々しても始まらないが、道教徒がごく早い時期から茶を使っていたことを示す話として意義がある。それはともかく、道教と禅についてわれわれが知りたいのは、人生と芸術に関する両者の考えが、われわれが茶道と呼ぶものにどのように反映されているかである。
The connection of Zennism with tea is proverbial. We have already remarked that the tea-ceremony was a development of the Zen ritual. The name of Laotse, the founder of Taoism, is also intimately associated with the history of tea. It is written in the Chinese school manual concerning the origin of habits and customs that the ceremony of offering tea to a guest began with Kwanyin, a well-known disciple of Laotse, who first at the gate of the Han Pass presented to the "Old Philosopher" a cup of the golden elixir. We shall not stop to discuss the authenticity of such tales, which are valuable, however, as confirming the early use of the beverage by the Taoists. Our interest in Taoism and Zennism here lies mainly in those ideas regarding life and art which are so embodied in what we call Teaism.
It is to be regretted that as yet there appears to be no adequate presentation of the Taoists and Zen doctrines in any foreign language, though we have had several laudable attempts.
Translation is always a treason, and as a Ming author observes, can at its best be only the reverse side of a brocade,—all the threads are there, but not the subtlety of colour or design. But, after all, what great doctrine is there which is easy to expound? The ancient sages never put their teachings in systematic form. They spoke in paradoxes, for they were afraid of uttering half-truths. They began by talking like fools and ended by making their hearers wise. Laotse himself, with his quaint humour, says, "If people of inferior intelligence hear of the Tao, they laugh immensely. It would not be the Tao unless they laughed at it."
The Tao literally means a Path. It has been severally translated as the Way, the Absolute, the Law, Nature, Supreme Reason, the Mode. These renderings are not incorrect, for the use of the term by the Taoists differs according to the subject-matter of the inquiry. Laotse himself spoke of it thus: "There is a thing which is all-containing, which was born before the existence of Heaven and Earth. How silent! How solitary! It stands alone and changes not. It revolves without danger to itself and is the mother of the universe. I do not know its name and so call it the Path. With reluctance I call it the Infinite. Infinity is the Fleeting, the Fleeting is the Vanishing, the Vanishing is the Reverting." The Tao is in the Passage rather than the Path. It is the spirit of Cosmic Change,—the eternal growth which returns upon itself to produce new forms. It recoils upon itself like the dragon, the beloved symbol of the Taoists. It folds and unfolds as do the clouds. The Tao might be spoken of as the Great Transition. Subjectively it is the Mood of the Universe. Its Absolute is the Relative.
It should be remembered in the first place that Taoism, like its legitimate successor Zennism, represents the individualistic trend of the Southern Chinese mind in contra-distinction to the communism of Northern China which expressed itself in Confucianism. The Middle Kingdom is as vast as Europe and has a differentiation of idiosyncrasies marked by the two great river systems which traverse it. The Yangtse-Kiang and Hoang-Ho are respectively the Mediterranean and the Baltic. Even to-day, in spite of centuries of unification, the Southern Celestial differs in his thoughts and beliefs from his Northern brother as a member of the Latin race differs from the Teuton. In ancient days, when communication was even more difficult than at present, and especially during the feudal period, this difference in thought was most pronounced. The art and poetry of the one breathes an atmosphere entirely distinct from that of the other. In Laotse and his followers and in Kutsugen, the forerunner of the Yangtse-Kiang nature-poets, we find an idealism quite inconsistent with the prosaic ethical notions of their contemporary northern writers. Laotse lived five centuries before the Christian Era.
The germ of Taoist speculation may be found long before the advent of Laotse, surnamed the Long-Eared. The archaic records of China, especially the Book of Changes, foreshadow his thought. But the great respect paid to the laws and customs of that classic period of Chinese civilisation which culminated with the establishment of the Chow dynasty in the sixteenth century B.C., kept the development of individualism in check for a long while, so that it was not until after the disintegration of the Chow dynasty and the establishment of innumerable independent kingdoms that it was able to blossom forth in the luxuriance of free-thought. Laotse and Soshi (Chuangtse) were both Southerners and the greatest exponents of the New School. On the other hand, Confucius with his numerous disciples aimed at retaining ancestral conventions. Taoism cannot be understood without some knowledge of Confucianism and vice versa.
We have said that the Taoist Absolute was the Relative. In ethics the Taoist railed at the laws and the moral codes of society, for to them right and wrong were but relative terms. Definition is always limitation—the "fixed" and "unchangeless" are but terms expressive of a stoppage of growth. Said Kuzugen,—"The Sages move the world." Our standards of morality are begotten of the past needs of society, but is society to remain always the same? The observance of communal traditions involves a constant sacrifice of the individual to the state. Education, in order to keep up the mighty delusion, encourages a species of ignorance. People are not taught to be really virtuous, but to behave properly. We are wicked because we are frightfully self-conscious. We nurse a conscience because we are afraid to tell the truth to others; we take refuge in pride because we are afraid to tell the truth to ourselves. How can one be serious with the world when the world itself is so ridiculous! The spirit of barter is everywhere. Honour and Chastity! Behold the complacent salesman retailing the Good and True. One can even buy a so-called Religion, which is really but common morality sanctified with flowers and music. Rob the Church of her accessories and what remains behind? Yet the trusts thrive marvelously, for the prices are absurdly cheap,—a prayer for a ticket to heaven, a diploma for an honourable citizenship. Hide yourself under a bushel quickly, for if your real usefulness were known to the world you would soon be knocked down to the highest bidder by the public auctioneer. Why do men and women like to advertise themselves so much? Is it not but an instinct derived from the days of slavery?
The virility of the idea lies not less in its power of breaking through contemporary thought than in its capacity for dominating subsequent movements. Taoism was an active power during the Shin dynasty, that epoch of Chinese unification from which we derive the name China. It would be interesting had we time to note its influence on contemporary thinkers, the mathematicians, writers on law and war, the mystics and alchemists and the later nature-poets of the Yangtse-Kiang. We should not even ignore those speculators on Reality who doubted whether a white horse was real because he was white, or because he was solid, nor the Conversationalists of the Six dynasties who, like the Zen philosophers, revelled in discussions concerning the Pure and the Abstract. Above all we should pay homage to Taoism for what it has done toward the formation of the Celestial character, giving to it a certain capacity for reserve and refinement as "warm as jade." Chinese history is full of instances in which the votaries of Taoism, princes and hermits alike, followed with varied and interesting results the teachings of their creed. The tale will not be without its quota of instruction and amusement. It will be rich in anecdotes, allegories, and aphorisms. We would fain be on speaking terms with the delightful emperor who never died because he had never lived. We may ride the wind with Liehtse and find it absolutely quiet because we ourselves are the wind, or dwell in mid-air with the Aged one of the Hoang-Ho, who lived betwixt Heaven and Earth because he was subject to neither the one nor the other. Even in that grotesque apology for Taoism which we find in China at the present day, we can revel in a wealth of imagery impossible to find in any other cult.
But the chief contribution of Taoism to Asiatic life has been in the realm of aesthetics. Chinese historians have always spoken of Taoism as the "art of being in the world," for it deals with the present—ourselves. It is in us that God meets with Nature, and yesterday parts from to-morrow. The Present is the moving Infinity, the legitimate sphere of the Relative. Relativity seeks Adjustment; Adjustment is Art. The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings. Taoism accepts the mundane as it is and, unlike the Confucians or the Buddhists, tries to find beauty in our world of woe and worry. The Sung allegory of the Three Vinegar Tasters explains admirably the trend of the three doctrines. Sakyamuni, Confucius, and Laotse once stood before a jar of vinegar—the emblem of life—and each dipped in his finger to taste the brew. The matter-of-fact Confucius found it sour, the Buddha called it bitter, and Laotse pronounced it sweet.
The Taoists claimed that the comedy of life could be made more interesting if everyone would preserve the unities. To keep the proportion of things and give place to others without losing one's own position was the secret of success in the mundane drama. We must know the whole play in order to properly act our parts; the conception of totality must never be lost in that of the individual. This Laotse illustrates by his favourite metaphor of the Vacuum. He claimed that only in vacuum lay the truly essential. The reality of a room, for instance, was to be found in the vacant space enclosed by the roof and the walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, not in the form of the pitcher or the material of which it was made. Vacuum is all potent because all containing. In vacuum alone motion becomes possible. One who could make of himself a vacuum into which others might freely enter would become master of all situations. The whole can always dominate the part.
These Taoists' ideas have greatly influenced all our theories of action, even to those of fencing and wrestling. Jiu-jitsu, the Japanese art of self-defence, owes its name to a passage in the Tao-teking. In jiu-jitsu one seeks to draw out and exhaust the enemy's strength by non-resistance, vacuum, while conserving one's own strength for victory in the final struggle. In art the importance of the same principle is illustrated by the value of suggestion. In leaving something unsaid the beholder is given a chance to complete the idea and thus a great masterpiece irresistibly rivets your attention until you seem to become actually a part of it. A vacuum is there for you to enter and fill up the full measure of your aesthetic emotion.
He who had made himself master of the art of living was the Real man of the Taoist. At birth he enters the realm of dreams only to awaken to reality at death. He tempers his own brightness in order to merge himself into the obscurity of others. He is "reluctant, as one who crosses a stream in winter; hesitating as one who fears the neighbourhood; respectful, like a guest; trembling, like ice that is about to melt; unassuming, like a piece of wood not yet carved; vacant, like a valley; formless, like troubled waters." To him the three jewels of life were Pity, Economy, and Modesty.
If now we turn our attention to Zennism we shall find that it emphasises the teachings of Taoism. Zen is a name derived from the Sanscrit word Dhyana, which signifies meditation. It claims that through consecrated meditation may be attained supreme self-realisation. Meditation is one of the six ways through which Buddhahood may be reached, and the Zen sectarians affirm that Sakyamuni laid special stress on this method in his later teachings, handing down the rules to his chief disciple Kashiapa. According to their tradition Kashiapa, the first Zen patriarch, imparted the secret to Ananda, who in turn passed it on to successive patriarchs until it reached Bodhi-Dharma, the twenty-eighth. Bodhi-Dharma came to Northern China in the early half of the sixth century and was the first patriarch of Chinese Zen. There is much uncertainty about the history of these patriarchs and their doctrines. In its philosophical aspect early Zennism seems to have affinity on one hand to the Indian Negativism of Nagarjuna and on the other to the Gnan philosophy formulated by Sancharacharya. The first teaching of Zen as we know it at the present day must be attributed to the sixth Chinese patriarch Yeno(637-713), founder of Southern Zen, so-called from the fact of its predominance in Southern China. He is closely followed by the great Baso(died 788) who made of Zen a living influence in Celestial life. Hiakujo(719-814) the pupil of Baso, first instituted the Zen monastery and established a ritual and regulations for its government. In the discussions of the Zen school after the time of Baso we find the play of the Yangtse-Kiang mind causing an accession of native modes of thought in contrast to the former Indian idealism. Whatever sectarian pride may assert to the contrary one cannot help being impressed by the similarity of Southern Zen to the teachings of Laotse and the Taoist Conversationalists. In the Tao-teking we already find allusions to the importance of self-concentration and the need of properly regulating the breath—essential points in the practice of Zen meditation. Some of the best commentaries on the Book of Laotse have been written by Zen scholars.
Zennism, like Taoism, is the worship of Relativity. One master defines Zen as the art of feeling the polar star in the southern sky. Truth can be reached only through the comprehension of opposites. Again, Zennism, like Taoism, is a strong advocate of individualism. Nothing is real except that which concerns the working of our own minds. Yeno, the sixth patriarch, once saw two monks watching the flag of a pagoda fluttering in the wind. One said "It is the wind that moves," the other said "It is the flag that moves"; but Yeno explained to them that the real movement was neither of the wind nor the flag, but of something within their own minds. Hiakujo was walking in the forest with a disciple when a hare scurried off at their approach. "Why does the hare fly from you?" asked Hiakujo. "Because he is afraid of me," was the answer. "No," said the master, "it is because you have murderous instinct." The dialogue recalls that of Soshi (Chaungtse), the Taoist. One day Soshi was walking on the bank of a river with a friend. "How delightfully the fishes are enjoying themselves in the water!" exclaimed Soshi. His friend spake to him thus: "You are not a fish; how do you know that the fishes are enjoying themselves?" "You are not myself," returned Soshi; "how do you know that I do not know that the fishes are enjoying themselves?"
Zen was often opposed to the precepts of orthodox Buddhism even as Taoism was opposed to Confucianism. To the transcendental insight of the Zen, words were but an incumbrance to thought; the whole sway of Buddhist scriptures only commentaries on personal speculation. The followers of Zen aimed at direct communion with the inner nature of things, regarding their outward accessories only as impediments to a clear perception of Truth. It was this love of the Abstract that led the Zen to prefer black and white sketches to the elaborately coloured paintings of the classic Buddhist School. Some of the Zen even became iconoclastic as a result of their endeavor to recognise the Buddha in themselves rather than through images and symbolism. We find Tankawosho breaking up a wooden statue of Buddha on a wintry day to make a fire. "What sacrilege!" said the horror-stricken bystander. "I wish to get the Shali out of the ashes," calmly rejoined the Zen. "But you certainly will not get Shali from this image!" was the angry retort, to which Tanka replied, "If I do not, this is certainly not a Buddha and I am committing no sacrilege." Then he turned to warm himself over the kindling fire.
A special contribution of Zen to Eastern thought was its recognition of the mundane as of equal importance with the spiritual. It held that in the great relation of things there was no distinction of small and great, an atom possessing equal possibilities with the universe. The seeker for perfection must discover in his own life the reflection of the inner light. The organisation of the Zen monastery was very significant of this point of view. To every member, except the abbot, was assigned some special work in the caretaking of the monastery, and curiously enough, to the novices was committed the lighter duties, while to the most respected and advanced monks were given the more irksome and menial tasks. Such services formed a part of the Zen discipline and every least action must be done absolutely perfectly. Thus many a weighty discussion ensued while weeding the garden, paring a turnip, or serving tea. The whole ideal of Teaism is a result of this Zen conception of greatness in the smallest incidents of life. Taoism furnished the basis for aesthetic ideals, Zennism made them practical.
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茶室 （内容抜粋）
茶室は、詩心に場所を与えるために建てられた仮の住まいという意味で「好みの家」となるし、そのときどきの美的要求を満たすために置かれるもの以外は一切の装飾がないという観点から「空っぽの家」となる。また、「不完全さ」を尊び、何かをわざわざ仕上げないまま残しておき、想像力がそれを完成させる余地を残すという点において「非対称な家」となる。
茶室の見かけはぱっとしない。日本の家屋のどれよりも小さく、建築に用いられる材料は「わび」すなわち「風雅な貧しさ」を演出するようにもくろまれている。忘れてならないのは、これらはすべて奥の深い芸術的配慮に基づくものであり、細部に至るまで、どんなに豪華な宮殿や寺院を建てるときよりも綿密な注意が払われていることである。
To European architects brought up on the traditions of stone and brick construction, our Japanese method of building with wood and bamboo seems scarcely worthy to be ranked as architecture. It is but quite recently that a competent student of Western architecture has recognised and paid tribute to the remarkable perfection of our great temples. Such being the case as regards our classic architecture, we could hardly expect the outsider to appreciate the subtle beauty of the tea-room, its principles of construction and decoration being entirely different from those of the West.
The tea-room (the Sukiya) does not pretend to be other than a mere cottage—a straw hut, as we call it. The original ideographs for Sukiya mean the Abode of Fancy. Latterly the various tea-masters substituted various Chinese characters according to their conception of the tea-room, and the term Sukiya may signify the Abode of Vacancy or the Abode of the Unsymmetrical. It is an Abode of Fancy inasmuch as it is an ephemeral structure built to house a poetic impulse. It is an Abode of Vacancy inasmuch as it is devoid of ornamentation except for what may be placed in it to satisfy some aesthetic need of the moment. It is an Abode of the Unsymmetrical inasmuch as it is consecrated to the worship of the Imperfect, purposely leaving some thing unfinished for the play of the imagination to complete. The ideals of Teaism have since the sixteenth century influenced our architecture to such degree that the ordinary Japanese interior of the present day, on account of the extreme simplicity and chasteness of its scheme of decoration, appears to foreigners almost barren.
The first independent tea-room was the creation of Senno-Soyeki, commonly known by his later name of Rikiu, the greatest of all tea-masters, who, in the sixteenth century, under the patronage of Taiko-Hideyoshi, instituted and brought to a high state of perfection the formalities of the Tea-ceremony. The proportions of the tea-room had been previously determined by Jowo—a famous tea-master of the fifteenth century. The early tea-room consisted merely of a portion of the ordinary drawing-room partitioned off by screens for the purpose of the tea-gathering. The portion partitioned off was called the Kakoi (enclosure), a name still applied to those tea-rooms which are built into a house and are not independent constructions. The Sukiya consists of the tea-room proper, designed to accommodate not more than five persons, a number suggestive of the saying "more than the Graces and less than the Muses," an anteroom (midsuya) where the tea utensils are washed and arranged before being brought in, a portico (machiai) in which the guests wait until they receive the summons to enter the tea-room, and a garden path (the roji) which connects the machiai with the tea-room. The tea-room is unimpressive in appearance. It is smaller than the smallest of Japanese houses, while the materials used in its construction are intended to give the suggestion of refined poverty. Yet we must remember that all this is the result of profound artistic forethought, and that the details have been worked out with care perhaps even greater than that expended on the building of the richest palaces and temples. A good tea-room is more costly than an ordinary mansion, for the selection of its materials, as well as its workmanship, requires immense care and precision. Indeed, the carpenters employed by the tea-masters form a distinct and highly honoured class among artisans, their work being no less delicate than that of the makers of lacquer cabinets.
The tea-room is not only different from any production of Western architecture, but also contrasts strongly with the classical architecture of Japan itself. Our ancient noble edifices, whether secular or ecclesiastical, were not to be despised even as regards their mere size. The few that have been spared in the disastrous conflagrations of centuries are still capable of aweing us by the grandeur and richness of their decoration. Huge pillars of wood from two to three feet in diameter and from thirty to forty feet high, supported, by a complicated network of brackets, the enormous beams which groaned under the weight of the tile-covered roofs. The material and mode of construction, though weak against fire, proved itself strong against earthquakes, and was well suited to the climatic conditions of the country. In the Golden Hall of Horiuji and the Pagoda of Yakushiji, we have noteworthy examples of the durability of our wooden architecture. These buildings have practically stood intact for nearly twelve centuries. The interior of the old temples and palaces was profusely decorated. In the Hoodo temple at Uji, dating from the tenth century, we can still see the elaborate canopy and gilded baldachinos, many-coloured and inlaid with mirrors and mother-of-pearl, as well as remains of the paintings and sculpture which formerly covered the walls. Later, at Nikko and in the Nijo castle in Kyoto, we see structural beauty sacrificed to a wealth of ornamentation which in colour and exquisite detail equals the utmost gorgeousness of Arabian or Moorish effort.
The simplicity and purism of the tea-room resulted from emulation of the Zen monastery. A Zen monastery differs from those of other Buddhist sects inasmuch as it is meant only to be a dwelling place for the monks. Its chapel is not a place of worship or pilgrimage, but a college room where the students congregate for discussion and the practice of meditation. The room is bare except for a central alcove in which, behind the altar, is a statue of Bodhi Dharma, the founder of the sect, or of Sakyamuni attended by Kashiapa and Ananda, the two earliest Zen patriarchs. On the altar, flowers and incense are offered up in the memory of the great contributions which these sages made to Zen. We have already said that it was the ritual instituted by the Zen monks of successively drinking tea out of a bowl before the image of Bodhi Dharma, which laid the foundations of the tea-ceremony. We might add here that the altar of the Zen chapel was the prototype of the Tokonoma,—the place of honour in a Japanese room where paintings and flowers are placed for the edification of the guests.
All our great tea-masters were students of Zen and attempted to introduce the spirit of Zennism into the actualities of life. Thus the room, like the other equipments of the tea-ceremony, reflects many of the Zen doctrines. The size of the orthodox tea-room, which is four mats and a half, or ten feet square, is determined by a passage in the Sutra of Vikramadytia. In that interesting work, Vikramadytia welcomes the Saint Manjushiri and eighty-four thousand disciples of Buddha in a room of this size,—an allegory based on the theory of the non-existence of space to the truly enlightened. Again the roji, the garden path which leads from the machiai to the tea-room, signified the first stage of meditation,—the passage into self-illumination. The roji was intended to break connection with the outside world, and produce a fresh sensation conducive to the full enjoyment of aestheticism in the tea-room itself. One who has trodden this garden path cannot fail to remember how his spirit, as he walked in the twilight of evergreens over the regular irregularities of the stepping stones, beneath which lay dried pine needles, and passed beside the moss-covered granite lanterns, became uplifted above ordinary thoughts. One may be in the midst of a city, and yet feel as if he were in the forest far away from the dust and din of civilisation. Great was the ingenuity displayed by the tea-masters in producing these effects of serenity and purity. The nature of the sensations to be aroused in passing through the roji differed with different tea-masters. Some, like Rikiu, aimed at utter loneliness, and claimed the secret of making a roji was contained in the ancient ditty:
"I look beyond; Flowers are not, Nor tinted leaves. On the sea beach A solitary cottage stands In the waning light Of an autumn eve."
Others, like Kobori-Enshiu, sought for a different effect. Enshiu said the idea of the garden path was to be found in the following verses:
"A cluster of summer trees, A bit of the sea, A pale evening moon."
It is not difficult to gather his meaning. He wished to create the attitude of a newly awakened soul still lingering amid shadowy dreams of the past, yet bathing in the sweet unconsciousness of a mellow spiritual light, and yearning for the freedom that lay in the expanse beyond.
Thus prepared the guest will silently approach the sanctuary, and, if a samurai, will leave his sword on the rack beneath the eaves, the tea-room being preeminently the house of peace. Then he will bend low and creep into the room through a small door not more than three feet in height. This proceeding was incumbent on all guests,—high and low alike,—and was intended to inculcate humility. The order of precedence having been mutually agreed upon while resting in the machiai, the guests one by one will enter noiselessly and take their seats, first making obeisance to the picture or flower arrangement on the tokonoma. The host will not enter the room until all the guests have seated themselves and quiet reigns with nothing to break the silence save the note of the boiling water in the iron kettle. The kettle sings well, for pieces of iron are so arranged in the bottom as to produce a peculiar melody in which one may hear the echoes of a cataract muffled by clouds, of a distant sea breaking among the rocks, a rainstorm sweeping through a bamboo forest, or of the soughing of pines on some faraway hill.
Even in the daytime the light in the room is subdued, for the low eaves of the slanting roof admit but few of the sun's rays. Everything is sober in tint from the ceiling to the floor; the guests themselves have carefully chosen garments of unobtrusive colors. The mellowness of age is over all, everything suggestive of recent acquirement being tabooed save only the one note of contrast furnished by the bamboo dipper and the linen napkin, both immaculately white and new. However faded the tea-room and the tea-equipage may seem, everything is absolutely clean. Not a particle of dust will be found in the darkest corner, for if any exists the host is not a tea-master. One of the first requisites of a tea-master is the knowledge of how to sweep, clean, and wash, for there is an art in cleaning and dusting. A piece of antique metal work must not be attacked with the unscrupulous zeal of the Dutch housewife. Dripping water from a flower vase need not be wiped away, for it may be suggestive of dew and coolness.
In this connection there is a story of Rikiu which well illustrates the ideas of cleanliness entertained by the tea-masters. Rikiu was watching his son Shoan as he swept and watered the garden path. "Not clean enough," said Rikiu, when Shoan had finished his task, and bade him try again. After a weary hour the son turned to Rikiu: "Father, there is nothing more to be done. The steps have been washed for the third time, the stone lanterns and the trees are well sprinkled with water, moss and lichens are shining with a fresh verdure; not a twig, not a leaf have I left on the ground." "Young fool," chided the tea-master, "that is not the way a garden path should be swept." Saying this, Rikiu stepped into the garden, shook a tree and scattered over the garden gold and crimson leaves, scraps of the brocade of autumn! What Rikiu demanded was not cleanliness alone, but the beautiful and the natural also.
The name, Abode of Fancy, implies a structure created to meet some individual artistic requirement. The tea-room is made for the tea master, not the tea-master for the tea-room. It is not intended for posterity and is therefore ephemeral. The idea that everyone should have a house of his own is based on an ancient custom of the Japanese race, Shinto superstition ordaining that every dwelling should be evacuated on the death of its chief occupant. Perhaps there may have been some unrealized sanitary reason for this practice. Another early custom was that a newly built house should be provided for each couple that married. It is on account of such customs that we find the Imperial capitals so frequently removed from one site to another in ancient days. The rebuilding, every twenty years, of Ise Temple, the supreme shrine of the Sun-Goddess, is an example of one of these ancient rites which still obtain at the present day. The observance of these customs was only possible with some form of construction as that furnished by our system of wooden architecture, easily pulled down, easily built up. A more lasting style, employing brick and stone, would have rendered migrations impracticable, as indeed they became when the more stable and massive wooden construction of China was adopted by us after the Nara period.
With the predominance of Zen individualism in the fifteenth century, however, the old idea became imbued with a deeper significance as conceived in connection with the tea-room. Zennism, with the Buddhist theory of evanescence and its demands for the mastery of spirit over matter, recognized the house only as a temporary refuge for the body. The body itself was but as a hut in the wilderness, a flimsy shelter made by tying together the grasses that grew around,—when these ceased to be bound together they again became resolved into the original waste. In the tea-room fugitiveness is suggested in the thatched roof, frailty in the slender pillars, lightness in the bamboo support, apparent carelessness in the use of commonplace materials. The eternal is to be found only in the spirit which, embodied in these simple surroundings, beautifies them with the subtle light of its refinement.
That the tea-room should be built to suit some individual taste is an enforcement of the principle of vitality in art. Art, to be fully appreciated, must be true to contemporaneous life. It is not that we should ignore the claims of posterity, but that we should seek to enjoy the present more. It is not that we should disregard the creations of the past, but that we should try to assimilate them into our consciousness. Slavish conformity to traditions and formulas fetters the expression of individuality in architecture. We can but weep over the senseless imitations of European buildings which one beholds in modern Japan. We marvel why, among the most progressive Western nations, architecture should be so devoid of originality, so replete with repetitions of obsolete styles. Perhaps we are passing through an age of democratisation in art, while awaiting the rise of some princely master who shall establish a new dynasty. Would that we loved the ancients more and copied them less! It has been said that the Greeks were great because they never drew from the antique.
The term, Abode of Vacancy, besides conveying the Taoist theory of the all-containing, involves the conception of a continued need of change in decorative motives. The tea-room is absolutely empty, except for what may be placed there temporarily to satisfy some aesthetic mood. Some special art object is brought in for the occasion, and everything else is selected and arranged to enhance the beauty of the principal theme. One cannot listen to different pieces of music at the same time, a real comprehension of the beautiful being possible only through concentration upon some central motive. Thus it will be seen that the system of decoration in our tea-rooms is opposed to that which obtains in the West, where the interior of a house is often converted into a museum. To a Japanese, accustomed to simplicity of ornamentation and frequent change of decorative method, a Western interior permanently filled with a vast array of pictures, statuary, and bric-a-brac gives the impression of mere vulgar display of riches. It calls for a mighty wealth of appreciation to enjoy the constant sight of even a masterpiece, and limitless indeed must be the capacity for artistic feeling in those who can exist day after day in the midst of such confusion of color and form as is to be often seen in the homes of Europe and America.
The "Abode of the Unsymmetrical" suggests another phase of our decorative scheme. The absence of symmetry in Japanese art objects has been often commented on by Western critics. This, also, is a result of a working out through Zennism of Taoist ideals. Confucianism, with its deep-seated idea of dualism, and Northern Buddhism with its worship of a trinity, were in no way opposed to the expression of symmetry. As a matter of fact, if we study the ancient bronzes of China or the religious arts of the Tang dynasty and the Nara period, we shall recognize a constant striving after symmetry. The decoration of our classical interiors was decidedly regular in its arrangement. The Taoist and Zen conception of perfection, however, was different. The dynamic nature of their philosophy laid more stress upon the process through which perfection was sought than upon perfection itself. True beauty could be discovered only by one who mentally completed the incomplete. The virility of life and art lay in its possibilities for growth. In the tea-room it is left for each guest in imagination to complete the total effect in relation to himself. Since Zennism has become the prevailing mode of thought, the art of the extreme Orient has purposefully avoided the symmetrical as expressing not only completion, but repetition. Uniformity of design was considered fatal to the freshness of imagination. Thus, landscapes, birds, and flowers became the favorite subjects for depiction rather than the human figure, the latter being present in the person of the beholder himself. We are often too much in evidence as it is, and in spite of our vanity even self-regard is apt to become monotonous.
In the tea-room the fear of repetition is a constant presence. The various objects for the decoration of a room should be so selected that no colour or design shall be repeated. If you have a living flower, a painting of flowers is not allowable. If you are using a round kettle, the water pitcher should be angular. A cup with a black glaze should not be associated with a tea-caddy of black lacquer. In placing a vase of an incense burner on the tokonoma, care should be taken not to put it in the exact centre, lest it divide the space into equal halves. The pillar of the tokonoma should be of a different kind of wood from the other pillars, in order to break any suggestion of monotony in the room.
Here again the Japanese method of interior decoration differs from that of the Occident, where we see objects arrayed symmetrically on mantelpieces and elsewhere. In Western houses we are often confronted with what appears to us useless reiteration. We find it trying to talk to a man while his full-length portrait stares at us from behind his back. We wonder which is real, he of the picture or he who talks, and feel a curious conviction that one of them must be fraud. Many a time have we sat at a festive board contemplating, with a secret shock to our digestion, the representation of abundance on the dining-room walls. Why these pictured victims of chase and sport, the elaborate carvings of fishes and fruit? Why the display of family plates, reminding us of those who have dined and are dead?
The simplicity of the tea-room and its freedom from vulgarity make it truly a sanctuary from the vexations of the outer world. There and there alone one can consecrate himself to undisturbed adoration of the beautiful. In the sixteenth century the tea-room afforded a welcome respite from labour to the fierce warriors and statesmen engaged in the unification and reconstruction of Japan. In the seventeenth century, after the strict formalism of the Tokugawa rule had been developed, it offered the only opportunity possible for the free communion of artistic spirits. Before a great work of art there was no distinction between daimyo, samurai, and commoner. Nowadays industrialism is making true refinement more and more difficult all the world over. Do we not need the tea-room more than ever?
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芸術鑑賞 （内容抜粋）
芸術鑑賞には共感し通い合う心が必要であり、それは、作品とそれを見る者相互の歩み寄りに基づくものでなければならない。芸術作品を見る者は、作者のメッセージを受け入れるのにふさわしい態度を身につける必要があるし、作者もメッセージを伝える方法を心得ていなければならない。茶人の小堀遠州は、自身大名であったが、「偉大な絵画に接するには、偉大な君主に接するようにせよ」という印象深い言葉を残している。傑作を理解するには、自分の身を低くし、それが語る言葉をひと言も逃すまいと息を呑んで待っていなければならない。
共感する力がある者にとっては、傑作は生きて実在するものとなり、両者の間に親友同士のような絆が生まれる。芸術家は永遠の命を持つ。彼らの愛や恐れが、われわれの中で何度も何度も繰り返しよみがえるからだ。われわれの心を打つのは、腕ではなく魂、技術ではなく人である。その訴えかけが人間性に満ちていればいるほど、われわれの反応は深いものになる。作者との間にこうした暗黙の了解があるからこそ、われわれは詩や物語において主人公と一緒になって苦しんだり喜んだりする。
Have you heard the Taoist tale of the Taming of the Harp?
Once in the hoary ages in the Ravine of Lungmen stood a Kiri tree, a veritable king of the forest. It reared its head to talk to the stars; its roots struck deep into the earth, mingling their bronzed coils with those of the silver dragon that slept beneath. And it came to pass that a mighty wizard made of this tree a wondrous harp, whose stubborn spirit should be tamed but by the greatest of musicians. For long the instrument was treasured by the Emperor of China, but all in vain were the efforts of those who in turn tried to draw melody from its strings. In response to their utmost strivings there came from the harp but harsh notes of disdain, ill-according with the songs they fain would sing. The harp refused to recognise a master.
At last came Peiwoh, the prince of harpists. With tender hand he caressed the harp as one might seek to soothe an unruly horse, and softly touched the chords. He sang of nature and the seasons, of high mountains and flowing waters, and all the memories of the tree awoke! Once more the sweet breath of spring played amidst its branches. The young cataracts, as they danced down the ravine, laughed to the budding flowers. Anon were heard the dreamy voices of summer with its myriad insects, the gentle pattering of rain, the wail of the cuckoo. Hark! a tiger roars,—the valley answers again. It is autumn; in the desert night, sharp like a sword gleams the moon upon the frosted grass. Now winter reigns, and through the snow-filled air swirl flocks of swans and rattling hailstones beat upon the boughs with fierce delight.
Then Peiwoh changed the key and sang of love. The forest swayed like an ardent swain deep lost in thought. On high, like a haughty maiden, swept a cloud bright and fair; but passing, trailed long shadows on the ground, black like despair. Again the mode was changed; Peiwoh sang of war, of clashing steel and trampling steeds. And in the harp arose the tempest of Lungmen, the dragon rode the lightning, the thundering avalanche crashed through the hills. In ecstasy the Celestial monarch asked Peiwoh wherein lay the secret of his victory. "Sire," he replied, "others have failed because they sang but of themselves. I left the harp to choose its theme, and knew not truly whether the harp had been Peiwoh or Peiwoh were the harp."
This story well illustrates the mystery of art appreciation. The masterpiece is a symphony played upon our finest feelings. True art is Peiwoh, and we the harp of Lungmen. At the magic touch of the beautiful the secret chords of our being are awakened, we vibrate and thrill in response to its call. Mind speaks to mind. We listen to the unspoken, we gaze upon the unseen. The master calls forth notes we know not of. Memories long forgotten all come back to us with a new significance. Hopes stifled by fear, yearnings that we dare not recognise, stand forth in new glory. Our mind is the canvas on which the artists lay their colour; their pigments are our emotions; their chiaroscuro the light of joy, the shadow of sadness. The masterpiece is of ourselves, as we are of the masterpiece.
The sympathetic communion of minds necessary for art appreciation must be based on mutual concession. The spectator must cultivate the proper attitude for receiving the message, as the artist must know how to impart it. The tea-master, Kobori-Enshiu, himself a daimyo, has left to us these memorable words: "Approach a great painting as thou wouldst approach a great prince." In order to understand a masterpiece, you must lay yourself low before it and await with bated breath its least utterance. An eminent Sung critic once made a charming confession. Said he: "In my young days I praised the master whose pictures I liked, but as my judgement matured I praised myself for liking what the masters had chosen to have me like." It is to be deplored that so few of us really take pains to study the moods of the masters. In our stubborn ignorance we refuse to render them this simple courtesy, and thus often miss the rich repast of beauty spread before our very eyes. A master has always something to offer, while we go hungry solely because of our own lack of appreciation.
To the sympathetic a masterpiece becomes a living reality towards which we feel drawn in bonds of comradeship. The masters are immortal, for their loves and fears live in us over and over again. It is rather the soul than the hand, the man than the technique, which appeals to us,—the more human the call the deeper is our response. It is because of this secret understanding between the master and ourselves that in poetry or romance we suffer and rejoice with the hero and heroine. Chikamatsu, our Japanese Shakespeare, has laid down as one of the first principles of dramatic composition the importance of taking the audience into the confidence of the author. Several of his pupils submitted plays for his approval, but only one of the pieces appealed to him. It was a play somewhat resembling the Comedy of Errors, in which twin brethren suffer through mistaken identity. "This," said Chikamatsu, "has the proper spirit of the drama, for it takes the audience into consideration. The public is permitted to know more than the actors. It knows where the mistake lies, and pities the poor figures on the board who innocently rush to their fate."
The great masters both of the East and the West never forgot the value of suggestion as a means for taking the spectator into their confidence. Who can contemplate a masterpiece without being awed by the immense vista of thought presented to our consideration? How familiar and sympathetic are they all; how cold in contrast the modern commonplaces! In the former we feel the warm outpouring of a man's heart; in the latter only a formal salute. Engrossed in his technique, the modern rarely rises above himself. Like the musicians who vainly invoked the Lungmen harp, he sings only of himself. His works may be nearer science, but are further from humanity. We have an old saying in Japan that a woman cannot love a man who is truly vain, for their is no crevice in his heart for love to enter and fill up. In art vanity is equally fatal to sympathetic feeling, whether on the part of the artist or the public.
Nothing is more hallowing than the union of kindred spirits in art. At the moment of meeting, the art lover transcends himself. At once he is and is not. He catches a glimpse of Infinity, but words cannot voice his delight, for the eye has no tongue. Freed from the fetters of matter, his spirit moves in the rhythm of things. It is thus that art becomes akin to religion and ennobles mankind. It is this which makes a masterpiece something sacred. In the old days the veneration in which the Japanese held the work of the great artist was intense. The tea-masters guarded their treasures with religious secrecy, and it was often necessary to open a whole series of boxes, one within another, before reaching the shrine itself—the silken wrapping within whose soft folds lay the holy of holies. Rarely was the object exposed to view, and then only to the initiated.
At the time when Teaism was in the ascendency the Taiko's generals would be better satisfied with the present of a rare work of art than a large grant of territory as a reward of victory. Many of our favourite dramas are based on the loss and recovery of a noted masterpiece. For instance, in one play the palace of Lord Hosokawa, in which was preserved the celebrated painting of Dharuma by Sesson, suddenly takes fire through the negligence of the samurai in charge. Resolved at all hazards to rescue the precious painting, he rushes into the burning building and seizes the kakemono, only to find all means of exit cut off by the flames. Thinking only of the picture, he slashes open his body with his sword, wraps his torn sleeve about the Sesson and plunges it into the gaping wound. The fire is at last extinguished. Among the smoking embers is found a half-consumed corpse, within which reposes the treasure uninjured by the fire. Horrible as such tales are, they illustrate the great value that we set upon a masterpiece, as well as the devotion of a trusted samurai.
We must remember, however, that art is of value only to the extent that it speaks to us. It might be a universal language if we ourselves were universal in our sympathies. Our finite nature, the power of tradition and conventionality, as well as our hereditary instincts, restrict the scope of our capacity for artistic enjoyment. Our very individuality establishes in one sense a limit to our understanding; and our aesthetic personality seeks its own affinities in the creations of the past. It is true that with cultivation our sense of art appreciation broadens, and we become able to enjoy many hitherto unrecognised expressions of beauty. But, after all, we see only our own image in the universe,—our particular idiosyncracies dictate the mode of our perceptions. The tea-masters collected only objects which fell strictly within the measure of their individual appreciation.
One is reminded in this connection of a story concerning Kobori-Enshiu. Enshiu was complimented by his disciples on the admirable taste he had displayed in the choice of his collection. Said they, "Each piece is such that no one could help admiring. It shows that you had better taste than had Rikiu, for his collection could only be appreciated by one beholder in a thousand." Sorrowfully Enshiu replied: "This only proves how commonplace I am. The great Rikiu dared to love only those objects which personally appealed to him, whereas I unconsciously cater to the taste of the majority. Verily, Rikiu was one in a thousand among tea-masters."
It is much to be regretted that so much of the apparent enthusiasm for art at the present day has no foundation in real feeling. In this democratic age of ours men clamour for what is popularly considered the best, regardless of their feelings. They want the costly, not the refined; the fashionable, not the beautiful. To the masses, contemplation of illustrated periodicals, the worthy product of their own industrialism, would give more digestible food for artistic enjoyment than the early Italians or the Ashikaga masters, whom they pretend to admire. The name of the artist is more important to them than the quality of the work. As a Chinese critic complained many centuries ago, "People criticise a picture by their ear." It is this lack of genuine appreciation that is responsible for the pseudo-classic horrors that to-day greet us wherever we turn.
Another common mistake is that of confusing art with archaeology. The veneration born of antiquity is one of the best traits in the human character, and fain would we have it cultivated to a greater extent. The old masters are rightly to be honoured for opening the path to future enlightenment. The mere fact that they have passed unscathed through centuries of criticism and come down to us still covered with glory commands our respect. But we should be foolish indeed if we valued their achievement simply on the score of age. Yet we allow our historical sympathy to override our aesthetic discrimination. We offer flowers of approbation when the artist is safely laid in his grave. The nineteenth century, pregnant with the theory of evolution, has moreover created in us the habit of losing sight of the individual in the species. A collector is anxious to acquire specimens to illustrate a period or a school, and forgets that a single masterpiece can teach us more than any number of the mediocre products of a given period or school. We classify too much and enjoy too little. The sacrifice of the aesthetic to the so-called scientific method of exhibition has been the bane of many museums.
The claims of contemporary art cannot be ignored in any vital scheme of life. The art of to-day is that which really belongs to us: it is our own reflection. In condemning it we but condemn ourselves. We say that the present age possesses no art:—who is responsible for this? It is indeed a shame that despite all our rhapsodies about the ancients we pay so little attention to our own possibilities. Struggling artists, weary souls lingering in the shadow of cold disdain! In our self-centered century, what inspiration do we offer them? The past may well look with pity at the poverty of our civilisation; the future will laugh at the barrenness of our art. We are destroying the beautiful in life. Would that some great wizard might from the stem of society shape a mighty harp whose strings would resound to the touch of genius.
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花 （内容抜粋）
16世紀後半に利休のもとで茶の湯の作法が完成されると、生け花も大きく花開いた。利休とその後継者たち、高名な織田有楽《うらく》、古田織部《おりべ》、光悦《こうえつ》、小堀遠州、片桐石州《せきしゅう》たちは、競って新しい花の組み合わせを考案しようとした。
しかしここで忘れてはならないのは、茶人たちが花を愛《め》でたのは、茶の湯という美的儀式のほんの一部にすぎず、それ自体で独立した儀式とはなっていなかったことである。生け花は、茶室における他の装飾品と同じように、室内装飾の全体構想に対する従属的なものであった。だからこそ石州は、庭に雪が降り積もっているときには白梅《はくばい》は用いてはならないと命じたのである。「騒々しい」花は容赦なく茶室から追放された。茶人による生け花は、もともと飾るつもりだった場所から移されてしまうと、意味を失った。その形も取り合わせも周囲との調和を考えて工夫されたものだからである。
花を花として愛《め》でるようになるのは、17世紀半ばに向かって「生け花の宗匠」たちが出現したときに始まる。今では、生け花は茶室から独立し、花瓶による制約以外は何の決まりもない。新しい考えや生け方が可能になり、それ以降さまざまな流儀や流派が生まれることとなった。
In the trembling grey of a spring dawn, when the birds were whispering in mysterious cadence among the trees, have you not felt that they were talking to their mates about the flowers? Surely with mankind the appreciation of flowers must have been coeval with the poetry of love. Where better than in a flower, sweet in its unconsciousness, fragrant because of its silence, can we image the unfolding of a virgin soul? The primeval man in offering the first garland to his maiden thereby transcended the brute. He became human in thus rising above the crude necessities of nature. He entered the realm of art when he perceived the subtle use of the useless.
In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends. We eat, drink, sing, dance, and flirt with them. We wed and christen with flowers. We dare not die without them. We have worshipped with the lily, we have meditated with the lotus, we have charged in battle array with the rose and the chrysanthemum. We have even attempted to speak in the language of flowers. How could we live without them? It frightens one to conceive of a world bereft of their presence. What solace do they not bring to the bedside of the sick, what a light of bliss to the darkness of weary spirits? Their serene tenderness restores to us our waning confidence in the universe even as the intent gaze of a beautiful child recalls our lost hopes. When we are laid low in the dust it is they who linger in sorrow over our graves.
Sad as it is, we cannot conceal the fact that in spite of our companionship with flowers we have not risen very far above the brute. Scratch the sheepskin and the wolf within us will soon show his teeth. It has been said that a man at ten is an animal, at twenty a lunatic, at thirty a failure, at forty a fraud, and at fifty a criminal. Perhaps he becomes a criminal because he has never ceased to be an animal. Nothing is real to us but hunger, nothing sacred except our own desires. Shrine after shrine has crumbled before our eyes; but one altar is forever preserved, that whereon we burn incense to the supreme idol,—ourselves. Our god is great, and money is his Prophet! We devastate nature in order to make sacrifice to him. We boast that we have conquered Matter and forget that it is Matter that has enslaved us. What atrocities do we not perpetrate in the name of culture and refinement!
Tell me, gentle flowers, teardrops of the stars, standing in the garden, nodding your heads to the bees as they sing of the dews and the sunbeams, are you aware of the fearful doom that awaits you? Dream on, sway and frolic while you may in the gentle breezes of summer. To-morrow a ruthless hand will close around your throats. You will be wrenched, torn asunder limb by limb, and borne away from your quiet homes. The wretch, she may be passing fair. She may say how lovely you are while her fingers are still moist with your blood. Tell me, will this be kindness? It may be your fate to be imprisoned in the hair of one whom you know to be heartless or to be thrust into the buttonhole of one who would not dare to look you in the face were you a man. It may even be your lot to be confined in some narrow vessel with only stagnant water to quench the maddening thirst that warns of ebbing life.
Flowers, if you were in the land of the Mikado, you might some time meet a dread personage armed with scissors and a tiny saw. He would call himself a Master of Flowers. He would claim the rights of a doctor and you would instinctively hate him, for you know a doctor always seeks to prolong the troubles of his victims. He would cut, bend, and twist you into those impossible positions which he thinks it proper that you should assume. He would contort your muscles and dislocate your bones like any osteopath. He would burn you with red-hot coals to stop your bleeding, and thrust wires into you to assist your circulation. He would diet you with salt, vinegar, alum, and sometimes, vitriol. Boiling water would be poured on your feet when you seemed ready to faint. It would be his boast that he could keep life within you for two or more weeks longer than would have been possible without his treatment. Would you not have preferred to have been killed at once when you were first captured? What were the crimes you must have committed during your past incarnation to warrant such punishment in this?
The wanton waste of flowers among Western communities is even more appalling than the way they are treated by Eastern Flower Masters. The number of flowers cut daily to adorn the ballrooms and banquet-tables of Europe and America, to be thrown away on the morrow, must be something enormous; if strung together they might garland a continent. Beside this utter carelessness of life, the guilt of the Flower-Master becomes insignificant. He, at least, respects the economy of nature, selects his victims with careful foresight, and after death does honour to their remains. In the West the display of flowers seems to be a part of the pageantry of wealth,—the fancy of a moment. Whither do they all go, these flowers, when the revelry is over? Nothing is more pitiful than to see a faded flower remorselessly flung upon a dung heap.
Why were the flowers born so beautiful and yet so hapless? Insects can sting, and even the meekest of beasts will fight when brought to bay. The birds whose plumage is sought to deck some bonnet can fly from its pursuer, the furred animal whose coat you covet for your own may hide at your approach. Alas! The only flower known to have wings is the butterfly; all others stand helpless before the destroyer. If they shriek in their death agony their cry never reaches our hardened ears. We are ever brutal to those who love and serve us in silence, but the time may come when, for our cruelty, we shall be deserted by these best friends of ours. Have you not noticed that the wild flowers are becoming scarcer every year? It may be that their wise men have told them to depart till man becomes more human. Perhaps they have migrated to heaven.
Much may be said in favor of him who cultivates plants. The man of the pot is far more humane than he of the scissors. We watch with delight his concern about water and sunshine, his feuds with parasites, his horror of frosts, his anxiety when the buds come slowly, his rapture when the leaves attain their lustre. In the East the art of floriculture is a very ancient one, and the loves of a poet and his favorite plant have often been recorded in story and song. With the development of ceramics during the Tang and Sung dynasties we hear of wonderful receptacles made to hold plants, not pots, but jewelled palaces. A special attendant was detailed to wait upon each flower and to wash its leaves with soft brushes made of rabbit hair. It has been written ["Pingtse", by Yuenchunlang] that the peony should be bathed by a handsome maiden in full costume, that a winter-plum should be watered by a pale, slender monk. In Japan, one of the most popular of the No-dances, the Hachinoki, composed during the Ashikaga period, is based upon the story of an impoverished knight, who, on a freezing night, in lack of fuel for a fire, cuts his cherished plants in order to entertain a wandering friar. The friar is in reality no other than Hojo-Tokiyori, the Haroun-Al-Raschid of our tales, and the sacrifice is not without its reward. This opera never fails to draw tears from a Tokio audience even to-day.
Great precautions were taken for the preservation of delicate blossoms. Emperor Huensung, of the Tang Dynasty, hung tiny golden bells on the branches in his garden to keep off the birds. He it was who went off in the springtime with his court musicians to gladden the flowers with soft music. A quaint tablet, which tradition ascribes to Yoshitsune, the hero of our Arthurian legends, is still extant in one of the Japanese monasteries [Sumadera, near Kobe]. It is a notice put up for the protection of a certain wonderful plum-tree, and appeals to us with the grim humour of a warlike age. After referring to the beauty of the blossoms, the inscription says: "Whoever cuts a single branch of this tree shall forfeit a finger therefor." Would that such laws could be enforced nowadays against those who wantonly destroy flowers and mutilate objects of art!
Yet even in the case of pot flowers we are inclined to suspect the selfishness of man. Why take the plants from their homes and ask them to bloom mid strange surroundings? Is it not like asking the birds to sing and mate cooped up in cages? Who knows but that the orchids feel stifled by the artificial heat in your conservatories and hopelessly long for a glimpse of their own Southern skies?
The ideal lover of flowers is he who visits them in their native haunts, like Taoyuenming [all celebrated Chinese poets and philosophers], who sat before a broken bamboo fence in converse with the wild chrysanthemum, or Linwosing, losing himself amid mysterious fragrance as he wandered in the twilight among the plum-blossoms of the Western Lake. 'Tis said that Chowmushih slept in a boat so that his dreams might mingle with those of the lotus. It was the same spirit which moved the Empress Komio, one of our most renowned Nara sovereigns, as she sang: "If I pluck thee, my hand will defile thee, O flower! Standing in the meadows as thou art, I offer thee to the Buddhas of the past, of the present, of the future."
However, let us not be too sentimental. Let us be less luxurious but more magnificent. Said Laotse: "Heaven and earth are pitiless." Said Kobodaishi: "Flow, flow, flow, flow, the current of life is ever onward. Die, die, die, die, death comes to all." Destruction faces us wherever we turn. Destruction below and above, destruction behind and before. Change is the only Eternal,—why not as welcome Death as Life? They are but counterparts one of the other,—The Night and Day of Brahma. Through the disintegration of the old, re-creation becomes possible. We have worshipped Death, the relentless goddess of mercy, under many different names. It was the shadow of the All-devouring that the Gheburs greeted in the fire. It is the icy purism of the sword-soul before which Shinto-Japan prostrates herself even to-day. The mystic fire consumes our weakness, the sacred sword cleaves the bondage of desire. From our ashes springs the phoenix of celestial hope, out of the freedom comes a higher realisation of manhood.
Why not destroy flowers if thereby we can evolve new forms ennobling the world idea? We only ask them to join in our sacrifice to the beautiful. We shall atone for the deed by consecrating ourselves to Purity and Simplicity. Thus reasoned the tea-masters when they established the Cult of Flowers.
Anyone acquainted with the ways of our tea- and flower-masters must have noticed the religious veneration with which they regard flowers. They do not cull at random, but carefully select each branch or spray with an eye to the artistic composition they have in mind. They would be ashamed should they chance to cut more than were absolutely necessary. It may be remarked in this connection that they always associate the leaves, if there be any, with the flower, for the object is to present the whole beauty of plant life. In this respect, as in many others, their method differs from that pursued in Western countries. Here we are apt to see only the flower stems, heads as it were, without body, stuck promiscuously into a vase.
When a tea-master has arranged a flower to his satisfaction he will place it on the tokonoma, the place of honour in a Japanese room. Nothing else will be placed near it which might interfere with its effect, not even a painting, unless there be some special aesthetic reason for the combination. It rests there like an enthroned prince, and the guests or disciples on entering the room will salute it with a profound bow before making their addresses to the host. Drawings from masterpieces are made and published for the edification of amateurs. The amount of literature on the subject is quite voluminous. When the flower fades, the master tenderly consigns it to the river or carefully buries it in the ground. Monuments are sometimes erected to their memory.
The birth of the Art of Flower Arrangement seems to be simultaneous with that of Teaism in the fifteenth century. Our legends ascribe the first flower arrangement to those early Buddhist saints who gathered the flowers strewn by the storm and, in their infinite solicitude for all living things, placed them in vessels of water. It is said that Soami, the great painter and connoisseur of the court of Ashikaga-Yoshimasa, was one of the earliest adepts at it. Juko, the tea-master, was one of his pupils, as was also Senno, the founder of the house of Ikenobo, a family as illustrious in the annals of flowers as was that of the Kanos in painting. With the perfecting of the tea-ritual under Rikiu, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, flower arrangement also attains its full growth. Rikiu and his successors, the celebrated Oda-wuraka, Furuka-Oribe, Koyetsu, Kobori-Enshiu, Katagiri-Sekishiu, vied with each other in forming new combinations. We must remember, however, that the flower-worship of the tea-masters formed only a part of their aesthetic ritual, and was not a distinct religion by itself. A flower arrangement, like the other works of art in the tea-room, was subordinated to the total scheme of decoration. Thus Sekishiu ordained that white plum blossoms should not be made use of when snow lay in the garden. "Noisy" flowers were relentlessly banished from the tea-room. A flower arrangement by a tea-master loses its significance if removed from the place for which it was originally intended, for its lines and proportions have been specially worked out with a view to its surroundings.
The adoration of the flower for its own sake begins with the rise of "Flower-Masters," toward the middle of the seventeenth century. It now becomes independent of the tea-room and knows no law save that the vase imposes on it. New conceptions and methods of execution now become possible, and many were the principles and schools resulting therefrom. A writer in the middle of the last century said he could count over one hundred different schools of flower arrangement. Broadly speaking, these divide themselves into two main branches, the Formalistic and the Naturalesque. The Formalistic schools, led by the Ikenobos, aimed at a classic idealism corresponding to that of the Kano-academicians. We possess records of arrangements by the early masters of the school which almost reproduce the flower paintings of Sansetsu and Tsunenobu. The Naturalesque school, on the other hand, accepted nature as its model, only imposing such modifications of form as conduced to the expression of artistic unity. Thus we recognise in its works the same impulses which formed the Ukiyoe and Shijo schools of painting.
It would be interesting, had we time, to enter more fully than it is now possible into the laws of composition and detail formulated by the various flower-masters of this period, showing, as they would, the fundamental theories which governed Tokugawa decoration. We find them referring to the Leading Principle (Heaven), the Subordinate Principle (Earth), the Reconciling Principle (Man), and any flower arrangement which did not embody these principles was considered barren and dead. They also dwelt much on the importance of treating a flower in its three different aspects, the Formal, the Semi-Formal, and the Informal. The first might be said to represent flowers in the stately costume of the ballroom, the second in the easy elegance of afternoon dress, the third in the charming deshabille of the boudoir.
Our personal sympathies are with the flower-arrangements of the tea-master rather than with those of the flower-master. The former is art in its proper setting and appeals to us on account of its true intimacy with life. We should like to call this school the Natural in contradistinction to the Naturalesque and Formalistic schools. The tea-master deems his duty ended with the selection of the flowers, and leaves them to tell their own story. Entering a tea-room in late winter, you may see a slender spray of wild cherries in combination with a budding camellia; it is an echo of departing winter coupled with the prophecy of spring. Again, if you go into a noon-tea on some irritatingly hot summer day, you may discover in the darkened coolness of the tokonoma a single lily in a hanging vase; dripping with dew, it seems to smile at the foolishness of life.
A solo of flowers is interesting, but in a concerto with painting and sculpture the combination becomes entrancing. Sekishiu once placed some water-plants in a flat receptacle to suggest the vegetation of lakes and marshes, and on the wall above he hung a painting by Soami of wild ducks flying in the air. Shoha, another tea-master, combined a poem on the Beauty of Solitude by the Sea with a bronze incense burner in the form of a fisherman's hut and some wild flowers of the beach. One of the guests has recorded that he felt in the whole composition the breath of waning autumn.
Flower stories are endless. We shall recount but one more. In the sixteenth century the morning-glory was as yet a rare plant with us. Rikiu had an entire garden planted with it, which he cultivated with assiduous care. The fame of his convulvuli reached the ear of the Taiko, and he expressed a desire to see them, in consequence of which Rikiu invited him to a morning tea at his house. On the appointed day Taiko walked through the garden, but nowhere could he see any vestige of the convulvus. The ground had been leveled and strewn with fine pebbles and sand. With sullen anger the despot entered the tea-room, but a sight waited him there which completely restored his humour. On the tokonoma, in a rare bronze of Sung workmanship, lay a single morning-glory—the queen of the whole garden!
In such instances we see the full significance of the Flower Sacrifice. Perhaps the flowers appreciate the full significance of it. They are not cowards, like men. Some flowers glory in death—certainly the Japanese cherry blossoms do, as they freely surrender themselves to the winds. Anyone who has stood before the fragrant avalanche at Yoshino or Arashiyama must have realized this. For a moment they hover like bejewelled clouds and dance above the crystal streams; then, as they sail away on the laughing waters, they seem to say: "Farewell, O Spring! We are on to eternity."
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茶人たち （内容抜粋）
宗教においては、未来は過去の中にある。芸術においては、現在が永遠となる。芸術を真に味わうことができるのは、芸術を実際の生活に生かせる者だけだと茶人たちは考えた。だから日々の生活を、茶室の中と同じように、高度に洗練されたものにしようと努めた。
どんな状況でも心の平静を保たなければならないし、会話は周囲の調和を乱さないように交わさなければならない。着るものの格好や色あい、立ち姿、歩き方に至るまで、すべてにその人の美的センスが表れる。そうしたことを決して軽んじてはならない。自らを美しく見せることができないようでは、美に近づく権利がないからである。だから茶人たちは芸術家以上の存在、すなわち芸術そのものになろうと努力した。それは審美主義の禅であった。完全なるものは至るところにある――それを見出そうとしさえすれば。利休は好んで次の古歌を引用した。
『花をのみ待つらむ人に山里の雪間の草の春を見せばや ［藤原家隆］』
花が咲くのを、、
待ってばかりいる人に、、
見せてやりたいものだ、、
雪山から萌え出る草の芽の中に、、
もう満開の春があることを
In religion the Future is behind us. In art the present is the eternal.
The tea-masters held that real appreciation of art is only possible to
those who make of it a living influence. Thus they sought to regulate
their daily life by the high standard of refinement which obtained in the
tea-room. In all circumstances serenity of mind should be maintained, and
conversation should be conducted as never to mar the harmony of the surroundings. The cut and color of the dress, the poise of the body, and the manner of walking could all be made expressions of artistic personality. These were matters not to be lightly ignored, for until one has made himself beautiful he has no right to approach beauty. Thus the tea-master strove to be something more than the artist,—art itself. It was the Zen of aestheticism. Perfection is everywhere if we only choose to recognise it. Rikiu loved to quote an old poem which says: "To those who long only for flowers, fain would I show the full-blown spring which abides in the toiling buds of snow-covered hills."
Manifold indeed have been the contributions of the tea-masters to art. They completely revolutionised the classical architecture and interior decorations, and established the new style which we have described in the chapter of the tea-room, a style to whose influence even the palaces and monasteries built after the sixteenth century have all been subject. The many-sided Kobori-Enshiu has left notable examples of his genius in the Imperial villa of Katsura, the castles of Nagoya and Nijo, and the monastery of Kohoan. All the celebrated gardens of Japan were laid out by the tea-masters. Our pottery would probably never have attained its high quality of excellence if the tea-masters had not lent it to their inspiration, the manufacture of the utensils used in the tea-ceremony calling forth the utmost expenditure of ingenuity on the parts of our ceramists. The Seven Kilns of Enshiu are well known to all students of Japanese pottery. Many of our textile fabrics bear the names of tea-masters who conceived their color or design. It is impossible, indeed, to find any department of art in which the tea-masters have not left marks of their genius. In painting and lacquer it seems almost superfluous to mention the immense services they have rendered. One of the greatest schools of painting owes its origin to the tea-master Honnami-Koyetsu, famed also as a lacquer artist and potter. Beside his works, the splendid creation of his grandson, Koho, and of his grand-nephews, Korin and Kenzan, almost fall into the shade. The whole Korin school, as it is generally designated, is an expression of Teaism. In the broad lines of this school we seem to find the vitality of nature herself.
Great as has been the influence of the tea-masters in the field of art, it is as nothing compared to that which they have exerted on the conduct of life. Not only in the usages of polite society, but also in the arrangement of all our domestic details, do we feel the presence of the tea-masters. Many of our delicate dishes, as well as our way of serving food, are their inventions. They have taught us to dress only in garments of sober colors. They have instructed us in the proper spirit in which to approach flowers. They have given emphasis to our natural love of simplicity, and shown us the beauty of humility. In fact, through their teachings tea has entered the life of the people.
Those of us who know not the secret of properly regulating our own existence on this tumultuous sea of foolish troubles which we call life are constantly in a state of misery while vainly trying to appear happy and contented. We stagger in the attempt to keep our moral equilibrium, and see forerunners of the tempest in every cloud that floats on the horizon. Yet there is joy and beauty in the roll of billows as they sweep outward toward eternity. Why not enter into their spirit, or, like Liehtse, ride upon the hurricane itself?
He only who has lived with the beautiful can die beautifully. The last moments of the great tea-masters were as full of exquisite refinement as had been their lives. Seeking always to be in harmony with the great rhythm of the universe, they were ever prepared to enter the unknown. The "Last Tea of Rikiu" will stand forth forever as the acme of tragic grandeur.
Long had been the friendship between Rikiu and the Taiko-Hideyoshi, and high the estimation in which the great warrior held the tea-master. But the friendship of a despot is ever a dangerous honour. It was an age rife with treachery, and men trusted not even their nearest kin. Rikiu was no servile courtier, and had often dared to differ in argument with his fierce patron. Taking advantage of the coldness which had for some time existed between the Taiko and Rikiu, the enemies of the latter accused him of being implicated in a conspiracy to poison the despot. It was whispered to Hideyoshi that the fatal potion was to be administered to him with a cup of the green beverage prepared by the tea-master. With Hideyoshi suspicion was sufficient ground for instant execution, and there was no appeal from the will of the angry ruler. One privilege alone was granted to the condemned—the honor of dying by his own hand.
On the day destined for his self-immolation, Rikiu invited his chief disciples to a last tea-ceremony. Mournfully at the appointed time the guests met at the portico. As they look into the garden path the trees seem to shudder, and in the rustling of their leaves are heard the whispers of homeless ghosts. Like solemn sentinels before the gates of Hades stand the grey stone lanterns. A wave of rare incense is wafted from the tea-room; it is the summons which bids the guests to enter. One by one they advance and take their places. In the tokonoma hangs a kakemon,—a wonderful writing by an ancient monk dealing with the evanescence of all earthly things. The singing kettle, as it boils over the brazier, sounds like some cicada pouring forth his woes to departing summer. Soon the host enters the room. Each in turn is served with tea, and each in turn silently drains his cup, the host last of all. according to established etiquette, the chief guest now asks permission to examine the tea-equipage. Rikiu places the various articles before them, with the kakemono. After all have expressed admiration of their beauty, Rikiu presents one of them to each of the assembled company as a souvenir. The bowl alone he keeps. "Never again shall this cup, polluted by the lips of misfortune, be used by man." He speaks, and breaks the vessel into fragments.
The ceremony is over; the guests with difficulty restraining their tears, take their last farewell and leave the room. One only, the nearest and dearest, is requested to remain and witness the end. Rikiu then removes his tea-gown and carefully folds it upon the mat, thereby disclosing the immaculate white death robe which it had hitherto concealed. Tenderly he gazes on the shining blade of the fatal dagger, and in exquisite verse thus addresses it:
"Welcome to thee, O sword of eternity! Through Buddha And through Dharuma alike Thou hast cleft thy way."
With a smile upon his face Rikiu passed forth into the unknown.
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Okakura Kakuzō
From Wikipedia,
Okakura Kakuzō in 1898
Okakura Kakuzō (岡倉 覚三, February 14, 1862 – September 2, 1913) (also known as 岡倉 天心 Okakura Tenshin) was a Japanese scholar who contributed to the development of arts in Japan. Outside Japan, he is chiefly remembered today as the author of The Book of Tea.[1]
Biography
Born in Yokohama to parents originally from Fukui, Okakura learned English while attending a school operated by Christian missionary, Dr. Curtis Hepburn. At 15, he entered Tokyo Imperial University, where he first met and studied under Harvard-educated professor Ernest Fenollosa. In 1889, Okakura co-founded the periodical Kokka.[2] In 1887[3] he was one of the principal founders of the Tokyo School of Fine Arts (東京美術学校 Tōkyō Bijutsu Gakkō), and a year later became its head, although he was later ousted from the school in an administrative struggle. Later, he also founded the Japan Art Institute with Hashimoto Gahō and Yokoyama Taikan. He was invited by William Sturgis Bigelow to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston in 1904 and became the first head of the Asian art division in 1910.
Okakura was a high-profile urbanite who had an international sense of self. In the Meiji period he was the first dean of the Tokyo Fine Arts School (later merged with the Tokyo Music School to form the current Tokyo University of the Arts). He wrote all of his main works in English. Okakura researched Japan's traditional art and traveled to Europe, the United States, China and India. He emphasised the importance to the modern world of Asian culture, attempting to bring its influence to realms of art and literature that, in his day, were largely dominated by Western culture.[4]
Okakura Kakuzō
His 1903 book on Asian artistic and cultural history, The Ideals of the East with Special Reference to the Art of Japan, published on the eve of the Russo-Japanese War, is famous for its opening paragraph in which he sees a spiritual unity throughout Asia, which distinguishes it from the West:
Asia is one. The Himalayas divide, only to accentuate, two mighty civilisations, the Chinese with its communism of Confucius, and the Indian with its individualism of the Vedas. But not even the snowy barriers can interrupt for one moment that broad expanse of love for the Ultimate and Universal, which is the common thought-inheritance of every Asiatic race, enabling them to produce all the great religions of the world, and distinguishing them from those maritime peoples of the Mediterranean and the Baltic, who love to dwell on the Particular, and to search out the means, not the end, of life.[5]
In his subsequent book, The Awakening of Japan, published in 1904, he argued that "the glory of the West is the humiliation of Asia."[6]:107 This was an early expression of Pan-Asianism. In this book Okakura also noted that Japan's rapid modernization was not universally applauded in Asia: ″We have become so eager to identify ourselves with European civilization instead of Asiatic that our continental neighbors regard us as renegades—nay, even as an embodiment of the White Disaster itself."[6]:101
In his The Book of Tea, which was written in English in 1906, he states:
It (Teaism) insulates purity and harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order. It is essentially a worship of the Imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.
In Japan, Okakura, along with Fenollosa, is credited with "saving" Nihonga, or painting done with traditional Japanese technique, as it was threatened with replacement by Western-style painting, or "Yōga", whose chief advocate was artist Kuroda Seiki. In fact this role, most assiduously pressed after Okakura's death by his followers, is not taken seriously by art scholars today, nor is the idea that oil painting posed any serious "threat" to traditional Japanese painting. Yet Okakura was certainly instrumental in modernizing Japanese aesthetics, having recognized the need to preserve Japan's cultural heritage, and thus was one of the major reformers during Japan's period of modernization beginning with the Meiji Restoration.
Outside Japan, Okakura influenced a number of important figures, directly or indirectly, who include Swami Vivekananda, philosopher Martin Heidegger, poet Ezra Pound, and especially poet Rabindranath Tagore and heiress Isabella Stewart Gardner, who were close personal friends of his.[7]
- The Ideals of the East (London: J. Murray, 1903)
- The Awakening of Japan (New York: Century, 1904)
- The Book of Tea
See also
Notes
Translation of work in Esperanto.
- Jump up ^ 'Ambassador of Tea Culture to the West' (biography of Okakura), Andrew Forbes and David Henley, The Illustrated Book of Tea (Chiang Mai: Cognoscenti Books, 2012).
- Jump up ^ Gosling, Andrew (2011). Asian Treasures: Gems of the Written Word. National Library of Australia. p. 77. ISBN 978-0-642-27722-0.
- Jump up ^ founding of Tokyo University of the Arts
- Jump up ^ Rupert Richard Arrowsmith, "The Transcultural Roots of Modernism: Imagist Poetry, Japanese Visual Culture, and the Western Museum System", Modernism/modernity Volume 18, Number 1, January 2011, 27-42. ISSN 1071-6068.
- Jump up ^ Okakura, Kakuzō (1903). The Ideals of the East with Special Reference to the Art of Japan. London: J. Murray. p. 1.
- ^ Jump up to: a b Okakura, Kakuzō (1904). The Awakening of Japan. New York: The Century Co.
- Jump up ^ Video of a Lecture discussing the importance of Japanese culture to the Imagists, London University School of Advanced Study, March 2012.
References
- Bharucha, Rustom. Another Asia: Rabindranath Tagore and Okakura Tenshin. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. ISBN 0-19-568285-8.
- "We Must Do a Better Job of Explaining Japan to the World". Asahi Shimbun, August 12, 2005.
- Benfey, Christopher. The Great Wave: Gilded Age Misfits, Japanese Eccentrics, and the Opening of Old Japan. New York: Random House, 2003. ISBN 0-375-50327-7.
- Okakura Kakuzo, The Illustrated Book of Tea. Chiang Mai: Cognoscenti Books. 2012. ASIN: B009033C6M
- Westin, Victoria. Japanese Painting and National Identity: Okakura Tenshin and His Circle. Center for Japanese Studies University of Michigan (2003). ISBN 1-929280-17-3
External links
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岡倉天心
出典: フリー百科事典
岡倉天心
岡倉 天心（おかくら てんしん、1863年2月14日（文久2年12月26日） - 1913年（大正2年）9月2日）は、日本の思想家、文人。本名は岡倉覚三（かくぞう）。幼名は岡倉角蔵。
人物
横浜の本町5丁目（現・本町1丁目、横浜開港記念会館付近）に生まれる。福井藩出身の武家で、1871年に家族で東京に移転[1]。東京美術学校（現・東京藝術大学の前身の一つ）の設立に大きく貢献し、のち日本美術院を創設した。近代日本における美術史学研究の開拓者で、英文による著作での美術史家、美術評論家としての活動、美術家の養成、ボストン美術館中国・日本美術部長といった多岐に亘る啓蒙活動を行い、明治以降における日本美術概念の成立に寄与した。「天心」は岡倉が詩作などの際に用いた号であるが、生前には「岡倉天心」と呼ばれることはほとんどなく、本人はアメリカでも本名の岡倉覚三 (Okakura Kakuzo) で通していた[2]。
福井藩の下級藩士の父・岡倉勘右衛門は、藩命で武士の身分を捨て、福井藩が横浜に開いた商館「石川屋」（現・横浜開港記念会館）の貿易商となり、その商店の角倉で生まれたことから、覚三は当初「角蔵」と名付けられた。9歳の時、妹てふを出産した母このが産褥熱で死去する。その葬儀が行われた長延寺（現・オランダ領事館跡）に預けられ、そこで漢籍を学び、横浜居留地に宣教師ジェームス・バラが開いた英語塾で英語も学んだ。弟の岡倉由三郎は英語学者。東京開成所（のちの官立東京開成学校、現・東京大学）に入所し、政治学・理財学を学ぶ。英語が得意だったことから同校講師のアーネスト・フェノロサの助手となり、フェノロサの美術品収集を手伝った。16歳のとき、大岡忠相の末裔でもある13歳の基子と結婚する。1882年（明治15年）に専修学校（現在の専修大学）の教官となり、専修学校創立時の繁栄に貢献し学生達を鼓舞した。専修学校での活躍は、文部省専門学務局内記課に勤めていたころである。また専修学校の師弟関係で浦敬一も天心と出会い、天心の指導によりその一生に決定的な影響を受けた。
1890年（明治23年）から3年間、東京美術学校でおこなった講義「日本美術史」は日本（の美術史学）における日本美術史叙述の嚆矢とされる。
東京都台東区に岡倉天心記念公園（旧邸・日本美術院跡）がある。茨城県北茨城市には当地の五浦に日本美術院第一部を移転させて活動した岡倉天心らの業績を記念して、茨城県天心記念五浦美術館が1997年（平成9年）に設立された[3]。また、ニューヨークで英語で「茶の本」を出版して100年にあたる2006年の10月9日に、岡倉が心のふるさととしてこよなく愛した福井県の大本山永平寺において“岡倉天心「茶の本」出版100周年記念座談会”が行われた。そして岡倉の生誕150年、没後100年を記念して、福井県立美術館では2013年11月1日から12月1日まで「空前絶後の岡倉天心展」を開催している。本展覧会では、およそ100年振りに、旧フェノロサコレクションが集結し、他にも近代日本画を代表する名品が展示されている。
来歴
栄典・授章・授賞
- 位階
家族
父の岡倉覚右衛門は福井藩の下級武士ながら商才に長けていたことから、福井藩の横浜商館「石川屋」の手代務に命じられ、石川屋善右衛門と名を改め、商人となった。廃藩置県により石川屋が廃業となると、東京・蛎殻町にあった福井藩の下屋敷跡で旅館「岡倉旅館」を開業。[4]
母のこのは福井県出身で、165cmの長身だったという。覚右衛門の前妻は4人の娘を残して亡くなっており、このは29歳の時に後妻として岡倉家に入る。長男・港一郎（16歳で死亡）、次男・角蔵（天心）、三男・由三郎、五女・蝶子を産むが、産褥熱のため37歳で死亡。兄の港一郎が脊椎カリエスで手がかかったため、角蔵は橋本左内の遠縁にあたる乳母に育てられた。[4]
妻の基子との間に生まれた長男の岡倉一雄は朝日新聞記者で、岡倉覚三の伝記をまとめた。孫（一雄の子）の岡倉古志郎は非同盟運動にも関わった国際政治学者、曾孫（古志郎の子）長男の岡倉徹志は中東研究者、玄孫（徹志の子）長男の岡倉禎志は写真家、玄孫（徹志の子）次男の岡倉宏志は人材開発コンサルタント、西洋史学者の岡倉登志は天心の曾孫にあたる。
岡倉家の祖先は、浅井長政が有名な近江国の戦国大名・浅井氏の一門であるという。
逸話
- 1903年（明治36年）、天心はアメリカのボストン美術館からの招聘を受け、横山大観、菱田春草らの弟子を伴って渡米した。羽織・袴で一行が街の中を闊歩していた際に1人の若いアメリカ人から冷やかし半分の声をかけられた。「おまえたちは何ニーズ? チャイニーズ? ジャパニーズ? それともジャワニーズ?」。そう言われた天心は「我々は日本の紳士だ、あんたこそ何キーか? ヤンキーか? ドンキーか? モンキーか?」と流暢な英語で言い返した。
- <原文>
- "What sort of nese are you people? Are you Chinese, or Japanese, or Javanese?"
- "We are Japanese gentlemen. But what kind of key are you? Are you a Yankee, or a donkey, or a monkey?" [22]
- 天心の残したメモの中に「第一・四十歳にて九鬼内閣の文部大臣となる、第二・五十にして貨殖に志す、第三・五十五にして寂す」と将来設計を記したものがあり、当時文部官僚だった九鬼隆一との蜜月が偲ばれる。[23]
- 当初は天心を引き立てた上司である文部官僚の九鬼隆一男爵の妻・波津子（九鬼周造の母）との接近について彼の更迭との関連も噂され、一部で好奇の対象となった。（美術学校騒動）
- 天心は、1892年5月東京専門学校（後の早稲田大学）に特別科外講師（東洋美術史）として参加しており、そこで大隈重信と知り合い、日本美術院の後援者となってもらった。
著作（原文）
- 『The Ideals of the East-with special reference to the art of Japan』 1903年 ジョン・マレー書店（ロンドン）『東洋の理想』
- 『The Awakening of Japan』 1904年 センチュリー会社（英語版）（ニューヨーク）及びジョン・マレー社（ロンドン）『日本の目覚め』
- 『The Book of Tea』 1906年 フォックス・ダフィールド社（ニューヨーク）『茶の本』
- 対訳本は、講談社インターナショナルと、「対訳ニッポン双書 茶の本」IBCパブリッシングほか。
- 『The Awakening of the East』 1902年稿 『東洋の目覚め』 当時未公開
著作（新版）
- 『岡倉天心全集』（全8巻別巻1）、平凡社、1979年-1981年
- 『東洋の理想 他』 「日本の覚醒」、「東洋の覚醒」を併せて収録
- 『日本美術史』 平凡社ライブラリー、2001年。この2冊は、平凡社「全集」からの単行判
- 『東洋の理想』 講談社学術文庫、1986年。冨原芳彰訳。巻末に記載（旧版・ぺりかん社）
- 『日本の覚醒 英文収録』 夏野広訳、講談社学術文庫、2014年
- 『日本の目覚め』 村岡博訳、土曜社（新版）、2017年
- 『茶の本』 村岡博訳、岩波文庫、改版2007年＋ワイド版も刊行
- 『内村鑑三 岡倉天心 近代浪漫派文庫4』 新学社、2004年。浅野晃訳「東洋の理想」ほか
- 『岡倉天心コレクション 茶の本』 ちくま学芸文庫、2012年
親族による回想・評伝
- 岡倉一雄 『父 岡倉天心』中央公論社、1971年／岩波現代文庫、2013年、解説酒井忠康。初刊は1940年
- 『岡倉天心をめぐる人びと』 復刻版・中村愿校註、五浦美術叢書・中央公論美術出版、1998年。解説岡倉古志郎
- 岡倉古志郎 『祖父 岡倉天心』 五浦美術叢書・中央公論美術出版、1999年
- 岡倉登志 『世界史の中の日本 岡倉天心とその時代』 明石書店、2006年
- 岡倉登志『曾祖父覚三 岡倉天心の実像』 宮帯出版社、2013年
- 岡倉登志・岡本佳子・宮瀧交二 『岡倉天心 思想と行動』 吉川弘文館、2013年
伝記・研究
岡倉天心を主題とする作品
テレビドラマ
映画
脚注
- ^ 中区文学散歩-関内を中心として-横浜市役所、1974年
- ^ 大和田範子「ボストン美術館に見る岡倉天心残像：2011年の「茶道具展」をもとに」『年報人間科学』34、大阪大学大学院人間科学研究科社会学・人間学・人類学研究室、2013、pp.194, 207（参照：[1]）
- ^ 「茨城県天心記念五浦美術館案内パンフレット」（PDF）
- ^ a b c d e f g h i j k l 『岡倉天心物語』新井恵美子、神奈川新聞、2004
- ^ 博物館学芸委員任命新聞集成明治編年史. 第七卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 帝国博物館新聞集成明治編年史. 第七卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 大博覧会美術部審査官任命新聞集成明治編年史. 第七卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 大学Times特集記事大学ism東京藝術大学、ブリタニカ国際大百科事典、新世紀ビジュアル大辞典（学研）
- ^ 日本帝国美術歴史、農商務省で編纂新聞集成明治編年史. 第十卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 岡倉覚三とビゲロー大阪で歓迎会新聞集成明治編年史. 第11卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ アメリカでの教え子の1人に、ラングドン・ウォーナーがいる。
- ^ アトリエの跡地は現在、茨城大学五浦美術文化研究所となっている（「五浦海岸」の項参照）。
- ^ よみうり抄新聞集成明治編年史. 第12卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 美術審査委員会委員決定新聞集成明治編年史. 第12卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 岡倉天心の義侠新聞集成明治編年史. 第12卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ Edward Jackson "Ned" HolmesFind A Grave
- ^ 明治44年の美術界新聞集成明治編年史. 第14卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 文展審査委員新聞集成明治編年史. 第14卷、林泉社、1936-1940
- ^ 服部敏良『事典有名人の死亡診断 近代編』（吉川弘文館、2010年）75頁
- ^ 岩井寛『作家の臨終・墓碑事典』（東京堂出版、1997年）64頁
- ^ 『官報』第2207号「叙任及辞令」1890年11月6日。
- ^ 斎藤兆史『英語達人列伝―あっぱれ、日本人の英語』中公新書, 2000
- ^ 北康利『九鬼と天心』PHP研究所, 2008
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