the book of tea(茶书)-第13章
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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。
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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
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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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VI。 Flowers
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 on 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 crimina
