the book of tea(茶书)-第14章
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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
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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
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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
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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
