the book of tea(茶书)-第12章
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The Book of Tea
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；
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The Book of Tea
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
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The Book of Tea
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
itselfthe 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 corps； 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。 Ou
