by Kyūsō (Murō Naokiyo), translated and edited by George Wm. Knox

Murō Naokiyo (1658–1734), known by his pen name Kyūsō, was a leading orthodox Neo-Confucian scholar of Tokugawa-era Japan, a follower of the Shushi (Zhu Xi) school who served the Tokugawa shogunate and gave the Forty-Seven Rōnin the name by which they are still remembered, Gishi, "the Righteous Samurai." The Shundai Zatsuwa ("Suruga Dai Miscellany"), compiled and published posthumously by his grandson in 1750, records his talks with friends and students after his lectures on the Confucian classics — moral philosophy, metaphysics, politics, the conduct of a samurai's life, all illustrated with anecdotes from Chinese and Japanese history.

George William Knox, an American Presbyterian missionary and scholar resident in Japan, translated and abridged the work — by his own account, roughly half of the full text, omitting most of the literary criticism, poetry, and military-strategy discussion to focus on the philosophical, ethical, religious, and political material. His translation, titled "A Japanese Philosopher," was read before the Asiatic Society of Japan on January 20, 1892, and published in the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, volume 20, part 1. Knox's own substantial introduction — on the place of Confucian philosophy in Japanese intellectual history, and the rival schools of Shushi and Ōyōmei (Wang Yangming) that the Shundai Zatsuwa argues between — precedes his translation of Kyūsō's own text, which is organized into five Books: Benevolence, Righteousness, Propriety, Wisdom, and Sincerity.

This is a digitized text of the sacred-texts.com archive, reached through the library's local mirror of that digitization.

Contents

• Introduction
• Book I — Benevolence
• Book II — Righteousness
• Book III — Propriety
• Book IV — Wisdom
• Book V — Sincerity

Introduction

Previous to the recent introduction of western literature and science, the intellectual development of the Japanese may be studied in three periods, each characterized by a distinctive system of religion and ethics.

The first period came to an end in the eighth century of our era. It was the period of Shintō and of pure native thought. It has been fully treated in the Transactions of this society.[1]

The second period began with the introduction of Buddhism and, with it, of the Chinese civilization in the sixth and seventh centuries A.D. Thenceforth for a thousand years the new religion was supreme. "All education was for centuries in Buddhist hands, Buddhism introduced art, introduced medicine, moulded the folk-lore of the country, created its dramatic poetry, deeply influenced its politics and every sphere of social and intellectual activity."[2] Religiously its highest distinctively Japanese development was in the thirteenth century, when the Nichiren and Shin sects were founded. Its impress is deep upon the literary masterpieces of the eleventh and twelfth centuries.[3]

The third period began with the establishment of peace under Tokugawa Ieyasu and continued until the period of Meiji in which we live. It is the period of the Chinese philosophy as interpreted by the great scholars of the Sō (Sung) dynasty in China.

These periods intermingle and overlap. Repeated instances of Chinese influence are detected even in the earliest remains of pure Japanese literature; in the second period the influence of the earlier remained and the force of the Confucian teaching was strongly felt. And in the third period not only did the influences of the three intermingle, but they came to philosophical and religious self-consciousness and conflict.

The Confucian ethics came to Japan early in the Christian era, just how early is uncertain. The wide influence of Chinese thought and civilization date from the introduction of Buddhism; but the distinctive triumph of the Chinese philosophy was in the seventeenth century of our era. In Japan as in China the prevalent philosophy must be distinguished from the traditional and dogmatic ethics.

Philosophy and Ethics

This distinction often has been overlooked and the philosophy has been identified with the teachings of the Sages. Then, as a second step, these teachings are described as "an attempt to isolate the purely human side of morals,"[4] finding its sole origin "in the conviction that human moral life has its basis and its safeguards in human nature."[4] The words of Confucius and Mencius appear to be "a set of moral truths — some would say truisms — of a very narrow scope and of dry ceremonial observances, political rather than personal."[5] However true this characterization of the early Chinese teachings may be, one dissents when it is set forth, finally, as "the creed of educated Chinamen";[4] nor, so far as my limited study goes, can I find that it has satisfied "the Far-Easterns of China, Korea and Japan."

It is not necessary to linger over the efforts to prove the original monotheism of the Chinese nor to recount the religious elements in the teaching of Confucius.[6] After his death there was a rapid "degeneracy," for his "set of moral rules" left an open door for other doctrine. In the time of Mencius scholars openly ridiculed the "Master," and in spite of Mencius's opposition Taoism gained in strength. Later on for centuries Taoism had "the field pretty much to itself;"[7] until at a subsequent date this mystical system received "Buddhism with open arms."[8]

As early as 65 A.D. the Imperial sanction was given to the Indian religion, and thenceforth for centuries men were zealous for both Confucius and Buddha.[9] So in the time of the Eastern Tsin "Buddhism was the chief religion, . . . and the doctrines of Confucius were much esteemed;"[10] and again we read of the emperor Wuti of the Liang in the sixth century: "Wuti did much to restore literature and the study of Confucius; . . . In his latter days he was so great a devotee of Buddhism that he retired to a monastery like Charles V."[11] This harmony continued with little to disturb it until the time of the Sō (Sung).

It was during this period of Buddhist supremacy that the Chinese literature was brought to Japan, and here too it was honoured but made no effort to disentangle itself from its ally; the Buddhist religion, and not the Confucian ethics, being characteristic of the period.

When, however, under Tokugawa rule, Chinese thought a second time made conquest of Japan, it was no longer friendly to Buddhism. While Japan had slept its long sleep of centuries (from the twelfth to the seventeenth) China had been awake. At last Confucianism had taken on the form of a developed philosophy and with its new self-consciousness had attacked and routed its quondam friend. This new philosophy has satisfied the intellect of China and introduced into Japan won its way here also at once. The ages of Buddhistic faith came to a close and the intellect of Japan accepted in the place of the Indian religion the pantheistic philosophy of Shushi (Chu Hi).[12]

The luxury and poetry of the Tō (Tang) were followed by the struggles of the Sō (Sung, A.D. 970-1127, or including the "Southern Sung" until 1277). During the reigns of Chin-tsung and of his son Tin-tsung "a violent controversy arose among the literati and officials as to the best mode of conducting the government. Some of them, as Sz'ma Kwang the historian, contended for the maintenance of the old principles of the sages. Others, of whom Wang Ngan-shi was the distinguished leader, advocated reform and change to the entire overthrow of existing institutions. For the first time in the history of China two political parties peacefully struggled for supremacy, each content to depend on argument and truth for victory. The contest soon grew too bitter, however, and the accession of a new monarch, Shin-tsung, enabled Wang to dispossess his opponents and to manage state affairs as he pleased. After a trial of eight or ten years the voice of the nation restored the conservatives to power, and the radicals were banished beyond the frontier. A discussion like this, involving all the cherished ideas of the Chinese, brought out deep and acute inquiry into the nature and uses of things generally, and the writers of this dynasty, at the head of whom was Chu Hi, made a lasting impression on the national mind."[13]

The Philosophers of the Sō

The best known of the "orthodox" philosophers of the Sō are Chow Tun-i, (A.D. 1017-1073), the brothers Ch'eng (A.D. 1032-1085, and 1033-1107), and above all Chu Hi. Of the younger Ch'eng it is said, — "His criticisms on the classics opened a new era in Chinese philosophy and were reverently adopted by his great successor Chu Hi."[14] The names of Ch'eng and Chu are associated together, and the dominant philosophy is called the system of Tei-Shu (Japanese pronunciation).

These philosophers may be compared to the schoolmen of Europe. They were no longer satisfied with the earlier unsystematic exposition of the Confucian ethics, but called metaphysics to their aid and transformed the groups of aphorisms and precepts into an ontological philosophy. As the schoolmen mingled with the teachings of the prophets and apostles elements drawn from Grecian and Eastern philosophy, so did these Chinese schoolmen mingle elements drawn from Buddhism and Taoism in their system based ostensibly on the classics. Their indebtedness to these two religions was none the less real because of their vehement rejection of both as heretical. And as the teachings of the schoolmen ruled European thought for centuries and were the medium through which the words of Christ were studied, so were the teachings of the Tei-Shu school supreme in the East and the medium through which China and Japan studied and accepted the words of the Sages. To disregard their philosophy and suppose that the earlier and simpler teaching has remained supreme, is as if we should disregard the whole historical development of theology and state that the synoptic gospels have contented Europe for eighteen hundred years.

Shushi was born in the year 1130 and died in the year 1200. He was historian and statesman as well as commentator and philosopher. Educated in Buddhism and Taoism, he rejected both and completed the system of Ch'eng. He was repeatedly employed by the emperor in posts of high importance, but finally died in retirement. His system has remained the standard in China and no deviation from his teaching has been permitted in the examinations. His commentary is the orthodox exposition and his philosophy the accepted metaphysic.[15] "The Sect of the Learned" designates his followers.

Shushi's System

The philosophy of Shushi (Chu Hi) is thus described by Eitel: — "Though modern Confucianism has long discarded the belief in the one supreme God, of which their classical writings still preserve a dead record, and though they substituted for the personal God whom their forefathers worshipped, an abstract entity, devoid of personality, devoid of all attributes whatsoever, yet they look upon nature not as a dead inanimate fabric, but as a living, breathing organism. They see a golden chain of spiritual life running through every form of existence and binding together, as in one living body, everything that subsists in heaven above or on earth beneath. What has so often been admired in the natural philosophy of the Greeks, — that they made nature live; that they saw in every stone, in every tree, a living spirit; . . . — this poetical, emotional and reverential way of looking at natural objects, is equally a characteristic of natural science in China."

There is a "child-like reverence for the living powers of nature," a "sacred awe and trembling fear of the unseen," a "firm belief in the reality of the invisible world and its constant intercommunication with the seen and temporal."

"Choo-He's mode of thinking has in fact been adopted by modern Confucianism." According to him "there was in the beginning one abstract principle or monad, called the 'absolute nothing,' which evolved out of itself the 'great absolute.' This abstract principle or monad, the great absolute, is the primordial cause of all existence. When it first moved, its breath[16] or vital energy congealing, produced the great male principle. When it had moved to the uttermost it rested, and in resting produced the female principle. After it had rested to the utmost extent, it again moved, and thus went on in alternate motion and rest without cessation. When this supreme cause divided itself into male and female that which was above constituted heaven, and that which was beneath formed the earth. Thus it was that heaven and earth were made. But the supreme cause having produced by evolution the male and female principles, and through them heaven and earth, ceased not its constant permutations, in the course of which men and animals, vegetables and minerals, rose into being. The same vital energy, moreover, continued to act ever since, and continued to act through those two originating causes, the male and female powers of nature, which ever since mutually and alternately push and agitate one another, without a moment's intermission.

"Now, the energy animating the two principles is called in Chinese K'e (Japanese Ki), or the breath of nature. When this breath first went forth and produced the male and female principles and finally the whole universe, it did not do so arbitrarily or at random, but followed fixed, inscrutable, and immutable laws. These laws or order of nature, called Li, were therefore abstractly considered prior to the issuing of the vital breath, and must therefore be considered separately. Again, considering this Li (Japanese Ri), or the general order of the universe, the ancient sages observed that all the laws of nature and all the workings of its vital breath are in strict accordance with certain mathematical principles, which may be traced or illustrated by diagrams, exhibiting, the numerical proportion of the universe called Su, or numbers. But, . . these three principles are not directly cognizable to the senses: they are hidden from view and only become manifest through forms and outlines of physical nature."[17]

Its Japanese Opponents

This is the system which came to Japan in the 17th century and won the adherence of all educated men. It displaced Buddhism at once and finally in the regard of the higher classes. Buddhism indeed made no defence but accepted its fate. Later on however the orthodox Chinese philosophy encountered other enemies. The revival of an interest in history, fostered by the Tokugawa, was followed by a revived interest in Pure Shintō, a Shintō disentangled from its Buddhistic ally and restored to its supposed early form. This religion was intensely national and intensely anti-Chinese in spirit.[18] It waged its war, not wholly without effect, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It affected somewhat the later writers of the Chinese school. But the followers of Confucius, or better of Shushi, to the end commanded the assent of the great majority of educated men. And this, too, in spite of still another attack. This was made by the school of Ōyōmei. In opposition to the "scientific philosophy" of Shu-shi it sought to substitute an idealistic intuitionalism.

Shushi attempted to agree with the differing schools of Chinese thought, bringing them together in spite of their inherent differences. He was to this extent an eclectic. He was strongly conservative and held fast to the past, it being understood of course that his own interpretation was to be accepted as the teaching of the past. He was historian and commentator as well as philosopher. Already in his own time his views met opposition in favour of a free development of thought. And among the men of his time Rikusōsan[19] insisted that his own heart, and not the past should be the chief object of study. He however wrote little and his first great follower was Ōyōmei.

Ōyōmei

Ōyōmei was born in the year 1472 A.D. and died in the year 1528. He was a provincial governor "and in this capacity gained high renown through his conduct of military affairs. In 1518 he subdued an insurrection in Kiang-si and in 1527, conducted a campaign against the wild tribes in northern Kwang-si."[20] He is famous for his humour and for his fine literary style. His style is clear and intellectual, and no one has since equalled it in China or Japan. He was peculiarly fond of studies pertaining to war. He was also a poet of originality and power. In China many scholars accepted his doctrine at once, but in Japan his following has been small, for the Tokugawa government gave its patronage wholly to the school of Shushi and forbade the public teaching of the doctrines of Ōyōmei.

Ōyōmei was not a repeater of past wisdom, nor a commentator: he sought to find all truth within his own heart. He cared nothing for the scientific investigation of the outer world, nor for the study of history. He even thought that all reading might be dispensed with and refused to commiserate a scholar who was lamenting the loss of his sight, Ōyōmei assuring him that he should be content, since he bore all truth within his own heart and needed not eyes to aid in studying that.

Spirit and Law

Differing thus in method he also denied the fundamental positions of the philosophy of Shushi. The latter, as we have seen, taught the existence of both "ki" and "ri," spirit and law. His conception of "ki" corresponded to the Stoic doctrine of "pneuma."[21] Ki by no means necessarily implies personality. Sometimes it is described as if it were the essence, the inner power, of all things. It is not "spiritual" in our modern and defined use of the word. It is identified with the air. It exists in all things. All things may be called "ki," the grass, the trees, the human body. But man's heart is also "ki" and shows its nature when the passions are aroused. From this point of view we might think Shushi as strict a materialist as the Stoics, but then too we should interpret matter in the Stoic and not in the modern sense. There are formless ki and ki impalpable and invisible. Over against the ki is placed the "ri," the law, the principle of nature. Ri is invisible and is the same as the "Way," as reason. It is not however merely abstract, for then would it be the same as the Buddhist "nature." Ri is an entity as real as ki, indeed even more truly an entity for it (theoretically) preceded ki and ki depends on it.[22] Still in the actual world there is no ki without ri and no ri without ki. Man's heart, his ki, is polished and refined by the ri, so the ri must be studied and thus the fundamental process is "the distinction of things."[23] If we do not thus "know," even the best action will not avail.[24]

Ōyōmei's Idealism

Now Ōyōmei was an idealist and would have none of this distinction into ki and ri. Outside of the heart itself there is no ri, no law, no principle. The heart and the ri are identical. All the ri is contained within the heart and there is no place for "the distinction of things." The heart is the same as the "Way" and the "Way" is the same as "Heaven." If a man knows his heart he knows the "Way" and if he knows the "Way" he knows Heaven. All depends on purifying the heart. Good and evil are all of it, and there is neither good nor evil apart from it. Men are all good as Shushi, after Mencius, taught, and can all purify their hearts if they will, though in this too there are natural differences. All men are divided into three classes, and the highest have an intuitive knowledge that is their own innate standard. This innate knowledge is however in all men; make it clear and all is clear. And it is purified by obedience to the five relations and the five virtues. We gain nothing from without; all is already within and needs only to be thus studied by obedience. To act is to know. If we say we know, we already act or we do not truly know. Knowledge is the beginning of action and action is the completion of knowledge.

Thus ethical science is the only science and nothing else is worthy of our attention or thought.[25]

Ōyōmei fully accepted idealism. He asserted that apart from our hearts there is nothing. The flower comes into existence when it becomes known and ceases to be when it passes out of our knowledge. But he also teaches a cosmological idealism, as he asserts that there is this all important innate knowledge, the best endowment of man, in everything, in grasses, stones, trees, in Heaven and in Earth. By virtue of it each thing is itself and all partake of the same ethical law.

Ōyōmei was in his early years a believer in Buddhism and his writings show strong marks of its influence, but he rejected it as a system. He taught that his purpose differed from the Buddhist. The end of his doctrine was not self-absorption in mystic contemplation, but the attainment of virtue, the attainment of the practical virtue needed by men alive and of the world.

Japanese Followers of Ōyōmei

The profound repugnance this system excited among the followers of Shushi is well represented in the Shundai Zatsuwa.[26] The government of the Shōgun forbade its propagation and permitted only the orthodox teaching in its schools. Several well known scholars are reputed followers of Ōyōmei, although their published writings do not expressly indicate the fact. Among others is Nakai Tōju (Ōmi Seijin). He lived in the first half of the seventeenth century and was a voluminous writer. In his writings on ethics he does not profess his dependence on Ōyōmei, yet agrees with him in all the essentials of his system.

The Okina Mondō

"How can we be sure then of the proper course of conduct? Hold fast in our hearts the great principles of unselfishness and humility, cast evil out of our hearts and follow truth."[27] His teaching does not expressly differ from the "orthodox" school, yet his emphasis is different. He exalts "heart learning," insists upon the supreme duty of "polishing the illustrious virtue" of our hearts and proclaims the Confucian laws to be the "manifestation of the virtues of the heart." To him the heart learning is in all, but the sage intuitively beholds it while others are indebted to his teaching. Still may all, even the ignorant, attain the blessedness of virtue, as the heart learning extends from lowest to highest, and all go therein, yet with distinction of powers and place. "The great highway is for all, but the travellers are not of equal strength. There are men and women, old and young, weak and strong; for every one there is a duty suited to his powers, and doing that he fulfils the law of filial piety."[28] "But," objects the questioner, "this virtue is so broad that I cannot attain it." And the answer is, — "That is the suggestion of a bad heart. You can attain it just because it is so broad. The light of sun and moon goes everywhere, and each one according to the strength of his eyes can use it; so every one, man and woman, learned and unlearned alike, can obey this virtue according to each one's ability. In Heaven it is called Heaven's 'Way' and on earth, earth's 'Way.' Originally it had no name, but for the sake of teaching the ignorant the Sages called it 'filial obedience.'"[29] "It dwells in the universe as the spirit dwells in man. It has no beginning nor end. Without it is neither time nor being. In all the universe there is nothing without it. As man is the head of the universe, its image in miniature, filial obedience is in both body and spirit and is the pivot of his existence." "As a looking-glass reflects many shapes and colours but is itself unchanged, so does filial obedience reflect all the virtues, itself unchangeable. All the virtues, all duties may be resolved into it, and it is called filial obedience, because obedience to parents is the beginning of the 'Way.' Its essence is to perceive that as our bodies are derived from our parents and are yet one with them, so are their bodies derived from the spirit of heaven and earth, and the spirit of heaven and earth is the offspring of the spirit of the universe; thus my body is one with the universe and the gods. Clearly perceiving this truth and acting in accordance with it is obedience to the 'Way.' This obedience is like the great sea, and the various relationships are like vessels with which we dip out the water; as the vessel is big or small, round or square, so the water appears, but it is all alike the water of the great sea."[30]

It is this implicit dependence upon the intuitions of the heart that gives the system of Ōyōmei its attractiveness to many Japanese. "His followers were few, but were all strong men,"[31] we are told. And on the other hand, — "Shushi's teaching is admirable but it weakened and enervated the spirit of the Japanese."[32]

Differences and Agreements

The two systems differ, but their points of agreement are more than their divergencies. They are mere varieties of the Jukyō, "The Sect of the Learned." Both rest upon the same fundamental ethical propositions, however distinct, their more metaphysical principles. They are alike in the belief that righteousness is life. The shortest time is sufficient, is the "true long life," if spent in conformity to the 'Way.' A clear perception of the 'Way' includes all the rest; this is the true long life and wealth and peace, for if the heart be at rest outward circumstances matter not. And an evil heart includes all the curses; sights and sounds are painful; even without outward sorrow there is no rest."[33] Both rest their authority ultimately upon the classics, though the Ōyōmei school put less stress upon mere learning. "If one sentence of the Book of Changes be mastered it will teach all that is in the classics. But the Book of Changes is difficult of comprehension, so Confucius wrote the Classic of Filial Piety. This will suffice; but after it is mastered, according to time and strength we are to go on to others." This doubtless is a point of great practical difference, the orthodox school recommending a study of the books that shall occupy the entire life. Yet both agree in reprobating a scholarship that is apart from morals, that is not expressed in action, that does not govern the life. "True learning is disregard of self, obedience to the Way, and the observance of the five relations. Its eye-ball is humility. Wide learning applies all this to the heart. False learning desires the honour of wide learning, envies those who excel, wishes only for fame and makes pride its eye-ball. It has nothing to do with obedience and the more one has the worse he is. Let us beware lest we tread the evil way leading down to the brutes and the dominion of the devils. False learning fosters this pride and never thinks of casting it away."[34] "Humble folk who obey but cannot read are taught by others; not reading it is as if they read. That is heart-reading, for it conforms to the heart of the Sages. Mere reading with the eye while the heart is far away is not true reading; it is to read as if reading not. In the age of the gods, imitation of the conduct of the Sages was true learning. Now there are no Sages, and true learning consists in understanding the classics and regulating conduct thereby. Thus may we polish the illustrious jewel of our hearts. To cast away the classics and trust our dark misled hearts, is to cast away the candle and seek in the dark for that which is lost."[35]

Attack on Buddhism

Both systems strongly express their hatred of Buddhism and ignore their indebtedness to its teaching. "In India Shaka (Buddha) himself never got beyond the outside of things. His purpose was indeed good but he was ignorant of the essential principles. After his death even the semblance of truth disappeared, and his system dissuaded from virtue and excited to evil. It is to be classed with Taoism, and is a thorn in the 'Way,' an obstruction to the gate of truth; it is to be avoided as one would flee an evil voice and the temptations of lust."[36]

Ōmi Seijin was the first great writer on the Chinese philosophy in Japan and his memory is still cherished as a man pure in life, strong in influence and great in letters. He established a school and had many followers, of whom Kumazawa Ryōkai is the best known. Later Ōshio Heihachirō is the chief representative of the Ōyōmei school. He left little in writing, but is everywhere known for fierce opposition to Tokugawa and his connection with the Ōsaka insurrection of 1839.[37]

The Orthodox School

The scholar who is usually said to have been the first exponent of the Chinese philosophy is Seiga. He wrote no books. The great scholars of the orthodox school formed a group at the end of the seventeenth century. Of these men the best known is Arai Hakuseki. With his name are associated the names Ito Jinsai, Ogyu Sōrai[38] and Yamazaki Ansai.

These writers were transmitters of the wisdom of the Chinese and worshipped at the shrine of Tei-Shu. No Western ever held more closely to the plenary inspiration of the Bible as expounded by his favourite commentator than these men to the Chinese Classics. They contain the absolute, eternal truth of Heaven and Earth. By it the universe with all its hosts were formed. This "Way" is the unchanging wisdom, the everlasting reason, the Divine archetype. No deviation from it can go unpunished and no variation in its exposition can be endured. It is not more remarkable that the Japanese orthodoxy attempted no improvement, no amendment in the Classics, than that our orthodox writers attempted no improvement or change in our sacred text. As western writers on theology fill their pages with Biblical references, these writers on the Chinese philosophy fill their pages with allusions to the classics. Direct quotations abound, and references and phrases, so that every sentence has its classical colour.

It is surprising that the Japanese scholars have attempted no systematic exposition of either the orthodox or the heterodox philosophy. They have been content to go to the writings of Shushi and of his Chinese expositors. So too have his commentaries satisfied them. There is not an original and valuable commentary by a Japanese writer. They have been content to brood over the imported works and to accept unquestioningly polities, ethics and metaphysics.[39]

Want of Originality

This foreign system moulded the intellectual life of the nation. Within its boundaries thought moved and was confined. As the new was forbidden so was the old cast off. Buddhism and Shintō were as heretical as the teaching of Ōyōmei. Society, government, education, literature, religion and ethics, all were supplied from this one source. Buddhism, as we have seen, influenced the thought of the Chinese philosophers, but it was permitted no new influence, it was permitted to add no new ideas here in Japan where it had been supreme for a thousand years. Shintō effected no modification. And the Japanese produced no scholar who could do more than repeat what he had been taught. Yet this philosophy in thus permeating the nation's life could not fail to be modified. It felt the influence of the national ideals. It varied from its original standard, yet not as modified in statement or in system but as insensibly taking on a new colour and feeling a new spirit.

It follows that one cannot readily point out the distinguishing characteristics of the Chinese philosophy in Japan. There is certainly a difference. Here the samurai takes to himself the title reserved in China for the literati and adds arms to letters. The vocation of arms occupies thus the highest place of honour. So too does loyalty take precedence of filial obedience and the ethical philosopher can praise without qualification men who desert parents, wife and children for the feudal lord.[40] And with this loyalty is an undue exaltation of a disregard of life, an exaltation that comes near to canonizing those who kill themselves no matter how causelessly, no matter though crime be the reason for an enforced suicide.[41] The impetuous, uncompromising, warlike, partisan character of the people is reflected in their morals.

Confucianism and the People

The Confucian literature in Japan so far instructed the mass of the people as to provide summaries of moral rules for them. But these moral rules could exist in harmony with a prevailing Buddhism. And as in China for centuries and in Japan for a thousand years the Chinese ethics knew no quarrel with the religion of the Buddha, so even after the educated men in Japan had given up Buddhism it still retained its full power over the lower classes and could incorporate the Confucian ethics with itself.

One effort, long continued, was made to win the people not merely to the Confucian ethics but to the foreign philosophy. Toward the close of the eighteenth century a school of popular preachers expounded the rudiments of the Chinese system to the people. They made such concessions to Buddhism as they thought the case demanded, but sought to substitute their system for the people's faith. They continued in a succession until the middle of the nineteenth century but their failure was complete. They made no lasting impression upon the nation's mind. The Chinese philosophy remained the exclusive possession of the higher classes.[42]

The Rejection of Buddhism

The choice of the Chinese philosophy and the rejection of Buddhism was not because of any inherent quality in the Japanese mind. It was not the rejection of supernaturalism or of the miraculous. The Chinese philosophy is as supernaturalistic as some forms of Buddhism. The distinction is not between the natural and the supernatural in either system but between the seen and the unseen. The Chinese philosophy does not reject the extraordinary; it has a belief in an all-pervading natural "law," but the wonderful and the prodigious are contained therein. It too has its Theophanies and its faith-compelling signs. It was not the rejection of a religion for a philosophy, for Buddhism can be as philosophical as Shushi or Ōyōmei, in fact these drew much of their doctrine from its stores. And the Chinese philosophy is as religious as the original teaching of Gautama. Neither Shushi nor Gautama believed in a Creator, but both believed in gods and demons. By the twelfth century A.D. the earlier belief in monotheism, granting that once there was such belief in China, had disappeared. In a single passage the Shundai Zatsuwa seems to indicate belief in one personal God, but the expressions fade away, and there remains only a belief in the Divinity of the immanent forces of the universe.[43] It holds to "a power not ourselves that makes for righteousness" and to our constant dependence upon the Unseen. It has little place for prayer, but has a vivid sense of the Infinite and the Unseen and fervently believes that right conduct is in accord with the "eternal verities." Its morality "is touched with emotion."

The Eternal Verities

In neither Shushi nor Ōyōmei is there firm grasp of the idea of personality. As there is no personal Creator, man is the highest expression of the forces of the universe. Even gods and devils fear his "determined mind." But as in the makrokosm so in the mikrokosm: the ultimate realities are force and law. Man has no immortal soul. He is highest in the scale of existence, yet is he only one in the endless series. The station is greater than the individual and it determines him. His whole duty is to live as befits his station. The Buddhist doctrine that a man may leave his station and become a priest is to be abhorred. It comes from the false doctrine of "three worlds." Shaka forsook his kingdom and became a hermit. He did not know fully the truth. To the Confucianist such asceticism is the act of a madman. Every man is to follow the "Way" with unshaken heart in the station in which he was born. To think certain acts virtuous is the error of the ignorant and the heretical.[44]

The Origin of Evil

For all evil is disarrangement. Confusion is the essence of evil. Strictly speaking there is no other evil. "Nothing is bad by nature but everything is good, yet with a distinction of rank." When this distinction of rank is preserved all are good. But this ideal goodness is rarely realized. "The gods are the activity of Heaven and Earth, the excellent power of the In and Yō, and of the true 'law.' . . . But as the gods come to the world there is both good and evil. For though the working throughout the four seasons of the five elements is of . . . no evil at all, still as that 'spirit' is scattered throughout the universe and confused there arise unexpected winds, heat, cold and storms."[45] So is it with man and all that is his. As a part of nature he too is good, originally good, but as his "nature is individualized both good and evil appear."[46] Let him put himself in harmony with the true nature, — above all let him obey with unshaken heart, and all will be well.

So with the state, crime is "confusion." The ancient order has been lost and therefore evil appears. "In the time of old the Sage was on the throne; the Superior Man was next in authority and all who ruled were wise, the stupid occupying their natural position below the rest. So from highest to lowest wisdom determined the rank and there was none evil. The only distinction was of superior and inferior."[47] And the Sage ruled by doing "nothing." It was enough that he was enrobed, enthroned, with folded arms. Not by vain exertions and strife may the empire or the individual be ruled. It is by doing nothing, by letting nature have its way that a Divine excellence is attained.

The Deeper Self

Man's deepest "self" lies hidden far below his changing "self" of act and thought and desire and will. In mysterious darkness it is nourished and by doing naught. Let not man break in on that depth; let him not direct and will and wish. The springs of his being reach down to the springs of the universe itself. Without selfishness, without rash self-determination, let the truer, deeper "self" be nourished and from that strength the life will come and then in act and word there shall be no danger of a fall.[48] And at death man shall return to the all pervading spirit, "as a vapour in the sky melts away, as a drop mingles with the sea, as fire disappears in fire."[49] He can have no immortal soul. For his conscious self there is "nothing beyond slipping into the grave." His highest hope is that his influence for good may survive; and his greatest fear is that his memory may be accursed.[50] He worships his ancestors as commanded by the Sages, but that worship does not necessarily imply the doctrine of a conscious, personal immortality.[51] "The soul wholly dissolves at death but my spirit is one with the spirit of my ancestors. So though all other spirits dissolve yet does the root of this remain and when I worship their spirits gather again. So it was that the Sages enforced this worship. And as my spirit is one with the spirit of my ancestors, so is the spirit of the noble one with the spirit of his dominion, and when he worships the spirits of the dead respond. When I speak of the universe there is indeed only one spirit; when I speak of myself, my spirit is the spirit of my ancestors and so it is that when I 'feel,' they 'respond.'"

Adopted on Faith

Without critical examination and upon faith Japan accepted the Chinese philosophy. Once it had accepted the Chinese ethics in alliance with the Buddhist religion; as trustingly it adopted the philosophy of Tei-Shu with all its hostility to the Indian faith. Nor did the "eclipse of faith" cost the scholars of the period of the Tokugawa any heart burnings. Buddhism went at once at the bidding of this new comer and left "not a wrack behind." In acceptance and rejection alike no native originality emerges, nothing beyond a vigorous power of adoption and assimilation. No improvements in the new philosophy were even attempted. Wherein it was defective and indistinct, defective and indistinct it remained. The system was not thought out to its end and independently adopted. Polemics, ontology, ethics, theology, marvels, heroes, all were enthusiastically adopted on faith. It is to be added that the new system was superior to the old, and this much of discrimination was shown.

It is not my purpose to discuss the Chinese philosophy, not even the Tei-Shu philosophy as represented in Japan. I desire to represent the spirit and thought of Old Japan, of the educated men of the Tokugawa period. And a Japanese can best do this, a Japanese who gives his account with undisturbed faith and who is a recognized master among his countrymen. In the Shundai Zatsuwa of Kyusō Murō we have the ruling ideas of the Japan that has forever passed away.

Murō Naokiyo

Murō Naokiyo was born in Yanaka, in Musashi, on the 30th March, 1658. From the home of his ancestors, Egagori in Bichu, he called himself Ega. From his earliest childhood he was distinguished for his love of books and unremitting diligence in study. His life was the wholly uneventful career of a professional scholar. When fifteen years of age he went to Kaga and was employed by the prince of that province. Here he lived in a dismantled cottage which he named The Pigeon-nest, and from the cottage he adopted the same name for himself, Kyu-sō, a name by which he was thenceforth known, and that is inscribed on his tomb.

Once when expounding The Great Learning before his prince the latter was so greatly pleased that he sent Kyusō to Kyōto to continue his studies in the school of the celebrated Kinoshita Jun-an. Here Kyusō took first rank and made great progress both in acquirements and in literary style.

From the year 1711 until his death he was employed by the Tokugawa Government and wrote several books at its command. He received the highest honour the Government could bestow, and rose to great influence and authority. He was the devoted advocate of the Tokugawa family and of the orthodox school of Chinese philosophy, and made small attempt to moderate his expressions when writing of their enemies. It was during his life that the famous forty-seven rōnin performed their exploit, and Kyusō gave them the name by which they are still remembered, Gi-shi, the Righteous Samurai.

He died on the 9th September, 1734, and was buried at his own request in Edo, Odzuka, Tsukuba-yama-no-ushiro, his grave marked by a simple stone engraved, "Kyusō Murō Sensei no Haka," the grave of the scholar Kyusō Murō.[52] Since his death his reputation has increased, and he has taken a distinguished place among the scholars of Japan, being especially remembered for his great learning.

The Shundai Zatsuwa

The Shundai Zatsuwa, Suruga Dai Miscellany, thus named from Kyusō's residence on Suruga Dai, is a posthumous work first published by his grandson in the year 1750. It purports to be a collection of talks with his friends and pupils. They would linger a while after Kyusō had completed his exposition of the Chinese books, asking questions and discussing themes suggested by the lecture. And these conversations written down were made into this book. It belongs to the class called "miscellanies," the works which best represent the spirit and the attainments of the Japanese scholars.[53]

The Shundai Zatsuwa covers a somewhat wide range. It contains polemic against the enemies of the faith, metaphysics, fundamental ethical principles, politics, religion, the art of war, and the laws of literature and poetry.

It has not been necessary for my purpose to translate all. The literary criticisms, the discussions of poetry and of military strategy have been omitted. So too have many of the historical incidents. Where these incidents illustrate ethical principles or the ideas of the school they have been retained. But Kyusō felt moved to rescue the memory of the righteous dead from oblivion, and relates incidents which add nothing to our understanding of his ethical and philosophical views. Many Chinese allusions and illustrations have been omitted. The book is famous for its learning, and abounds in phrases and incidents that are of significance only to one thoroughly versed in Chinese history and literature. Some liberty, therefore, in the way of condensation has been taken. As the work is not a classic, and as the purpose is to set forth the ruling ideas and spirit of the Chinese philosophy in Japan, it has been thought wise to sacrifice something of technical scholarship to intelligibility. And it may be added, the retention of the literary and historical allusions in their fulness would precisely defeat the author's purpose, his ornaments in Japanese becoming blemishes in English. All that sets forth the philosophy and religion, the ethics and politics both theoretical and applied, with copious historical illustrations, have been translated. Perhaps half of the text is represented here.

The sacred memories of the past, the treasures of philosophy and religion, the high aspirations after benevolence and righteousness, the ideals of the individual and of the state stand in the Shundai Zatsuwa, upon a literary background flowing, full, poetic. No attempt has been made to transfer this literary flavour, and at the end of his labours, comparing the result with the original, the barrenness and baldness of the one with the richness and smoothness of the other, the translator can only adopt as his own the author's lament: — "Though his philosophy is the famous music of the world, yet now is it like Eikaku's Song of Spring among a people of barbarous speech."

Notes

[1] "The Kō-ji-ki," translated by B. H. Chamberlain, Vol. X. Appendix; "The Revival of Pure Shin-tau," by Ernest Satow, Vol. III. Appendix; "Ancient Japanese Rituals," by the same, Vols. VII, IX; also "The Classical Poetry of the Japanese" by B. H. Chamberlain.

[2] "Things Japanese," by B. H. Chamberlain, p. 71, 2nd Ed.

[3] James Troup's translations of the Shin teaching, Vols. XIV, XVII of these Transactions.

[4] "The International Journal of Ethics," Vol. 1, No. 3, p. 307. (This note is cited three times in the paragraph above, for three separate quotations from the same article.)

[5] "Things Japanese," 2nd Edition, p. 92.

[6] See "The Religions of China," Lecture I; and Faber's "A Systematical Digest of the Doctrines of Confucius," pp. 44-53.

[7] "The Religions of China," p. 180.

[8] "The China Review," Vol. VIII, No. 1, p. 59.

[9] Dr. Edkins ("The Phœnix," Vol. III, pp. 47-49) divides the intellectual development of China into five stages: — 1, Struggles for Confucianism against various speculations, with Taoist doctrine gaining yearly; 2, The "Han," when the tone of speculation was predominantly Taoist; 3, The six dynasties, when Buddhism was triumphant; 4, The "Tang," luxurious and poetical; 5, The "Sung," and on to our day. In none of these periods was "the purely human side of morals" the creed of educated Chinamen. Some addition was always needed to satisfy their intellectual and religious natures.

[10] The Middle Kingdom, Vol. II, p. 165.

[11] The Middle Kingdom, Vol. II, p. 166.

[12] The Chinese philosophy is sometimes called "agnostic," so "a friendly German critic" in "Things Japanese," p. 94, and that too was once my opinion, "Ōsaka Conference," p. 115. It is not agnostic, but pantheistic, as will abundantly appear.

[13] The Middle Kingdom, Vol. II, p. 174.

[14] Mayers's "Manual," p. 34.

[15] Shushi's name is variously written by writers in China, Chu-hsi, Choo He, Chu He, Chu Hi and Ku Hsi. Dr. Legge has used much of Shushi's commentary in connection with his various translations. Accounts of his life are given by Mayer, p. 25; Meadows, The Chinese, Chap. XVIII; in the Chinese Repository, Vol. XVIII, p. 206 f. A section of his writings has been translated by Medhurst, Chinese Repository, Vol. XIII, pp. 552, 609 ff. Also by Canon McClatchie, — "Chinese Cosmogony," being "Section Forty-Nine of the Complete Works," with criticisms and defence in The China Review, Vol. III, p. 342 f., Vol. IV, pp. 84, 342 ff. The Middle Kingdom has various references to Shushi (Chu Hi), the most extended being Vol. I, pp. 682-685. An interesting account of some points in his philosophy is given by W. A. P. Martin, D.D., — "The Cartesian Philosophy before Descartes" (Extract from the Journal of the Peking Oriental Society). See also Faber's "Doctrines of Confucius," pp. 32-33. Rev. Griffith John, Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. II, No. I, pp. 37-44, "The Ethics of the Chinese."

[16] "Between heaven and earth there is nothing so important, so almighty and omnipresent as this breath of nature. . . Through it heaven and earth and every creature live and move and have their being. Nature's breath is, in fact, but the spiritual energy of the male and female principles." "Feng-shui," p. 45.

[17] "Feng-shui," pp. 5-9. See "Ki, Ri and Ten" below (Book V). Also the translator's "Comment" below for a further exposition, differing somewhat from Eitel's.

[18] "The Revival of Pure Shin-tau," pp. 13-14, 21-34.

[19] b. 1140 A.D. "In opposition to the critical philosophical erudition of Chu-hsi, Lu desires rectification of heart and life to be the main point, as the commencement and aim of study. There is no doubt that in this Confucius stands on his side." Faber's "Doctrines of Confucius," p. 33.

[20] Mayers's "Manual," p. 246. This brief paragraph is all I have been able to find in English. A lecture recently given by Prof. Inoue of the Imperial University is the authority for my account of Ōyōmei and his philosophy. Printed in the Rikugo Zasshi, Feb. 1892.

[21] Pneuma "is the totality of all existence; out of it the whole, visible universe proceeds, hereafter to be resolved into it again. . . . Out of it separated first the elemental fire, and this again condenses into air; a further step in the downward path derives water and earth from the solidification of air. . . . From the elements the one substance is transformed into the multitude of individual things." Enc. Brit., art. Stoics.

[22] For an example of the process of this "reification of the concept," see Book V below.

[23] This method professes to rest upon a phrase of Confucius, "the distinction of things." See Book III below.

[24] See Book V below.

[25] Ōyōmei's system may be studied in the Den-shu-roku, the Zen-sho and Zen-shu.

[26] Book II below.

[27] Okina Mondō, Vol. II, p. 3.

[28] Okina Mondō, Vol. V, p. 35.

[29] Okina Mondō, Vol. I, p. 3.

[30] Okina Mondō, Vol. I, pp. 3-7. The Okina Mondō is a posthumous work of Nakai Tōju printed in 1650 A.D. The translator printed an abridged translation in "The Chrysanthemum," Vol. II, Nos. 3, 4, 6, 8.

[31] Prof. T. Inoue.

[32] The Rev. M. Uemura.

[33] Okina Mondō, Vol. II, p. 34.

[34] Okina Mondō, Vol. III, pp. 10-12.

[35] Okina Mondō, Vol. III, pp. 12-14.

[36] Okina Mondō, Vol. IV, pp. 1-13.

[37] During a time of scarcity Ōshio's wrath was excited by the heartless conduct of an official in Ōsaka who refused to remit the taxes. So Ōshio, influenced by his philosophical views to a democratic disregard of official rank and right, led an assault upon the government warehouses, took out the grain and distributed it to the people. The rising was quickly put down and Ōshio suffered death as a criminal. Another account says that en route to Satsuma he was lost at sea. "Dai Ni Hon Jim-mei Ji-sho," Vol. I. It is possible that the teachings of the Ōyōmei school were more dangerous to the existing order than appears to a foreign student, and that Tokugawa knew its own interests best as it forbade their propagation.

[38] Jinsai and Sōrai were not orthodox. See Mr. Haga's "Note" below.

[39] The Ancient Learning School "Kogaku" also rested upon the modern Chinese School. Faber's Doctrines of Confucius, p. 34; and Mr. Haga's "Note" below.

[40] Similar instances are found, of course, in Chinese history.

[41] See Book IV below.

[42] Numerous translations of the sermons of this school have been printed, among the earliest in A. B. Mitford's Tales of Old Japan, pp. 288-326. The sermons called Kyuō Dōwa and Shingaku Michi no Hanashi are best known. Besides these there are among others: — Shō-ō Michi no Hanashi, Dōni-ō Dōwa, Shingaku-kyoyu-roku, and Zoku-zoku Kyuō Dōwa.

[43] See Book V below.

[44] Okina Mondō, Vol. V, pp. 17-18.

[45] See Book V below.

[46] See Book V below.

[47] Okina Mondō, Vol. II, p. 31.

[48] See Book V below.

[49] Okina Mondō, Vol. V, p. 26.

[50] See Book IV below.

[51] The worship of ancestors remains an inconsistency difficult of explanation in Shushi's philosophy. He teaches (in the Gorui) that at death we are like the flame: it ascends and disappears yet we cannot say that it has ceased to be. It is the law that man's spirit (ki) dissolves at death, vanishes into thin air; but there are exceptions. When men naturally, and, so to speak, willingly die the spirit thus dissolves, but when they die violently, with strong protest, the spirit remains for a time collected and may return and show itself and work harm. A man who was killed by his adulterous wife appeared to her undoing, for his hatred held his spirit together until vengeance was executed. But such exceptions are only for a time; finally all alike return to the primeval spirit. Shushi thus saves his philosophy and his orthodoxy.

[52] The original source (given in Japanese script in the print edition and not reproduced here) is the authority for these statements. His burial place is in the section of the city now called Koishikawa. He wrote many books, whose titles are given in Japanese script in the print edition and are not reproduced here.

[53] Such collections are among the most valuable of the writings of the Chinese also, Confucius and Shushi, among others, using this method.

Book I — Benevolence

The Aged Scholar's Preface

I was born in Musashi, and when my hair was first fastened in a queue studied the Chinese poetry and history.[1] Thenceforth I wrote essays on themes which interested me, presented my writings to the daimyō and was entertained in their mansions. Or, with my box of books upon my back I lived like a traveller in Kyōto. Afterwards I made my home in the north,[2] ever studying the ancient writings, and constantly strengthened my purpose to perfect myself to the end of life. But, unexpectedly, I was summoned by my lord and returned to my native place.[3] Thus have I grown old and imbecile and wait for death to pillow my head upon the hills. Many years and months have passed away and now at seventy-four, in the old age of horse or dog, though I love learning and purpose to follow the "Way," I have no virtue that fits me to be leader or teacher. Nor have I ability for aught else, and stay useless in the world. This is far other than I had purposed. So I expound that which I have learned to those who believe in the Old Man and come to him with questions. If I can help future scholars it will be the reward for my long life, and in illness and pain I comment constantly upon the books.[4]

One day after the exposition, when the talk was of the changes in the learning since the times of the Sō, one of those present expressed doubts as to the philosophy of Tei-Shu;[5] and the Old Man replied: —

When young I too studied with worthless teachers. I conned words and wasted time until suddenly I perceived the folly of such study and resolved to seek that wisdom of the men of old which is for one's self.[6] Yet alas! Without teacher or friend I was bewildered by the conflicting opinions of scholars, and half doubted, half believed the teaching of Tei-Shu. So the time still passed in vain until I was forty years of age when I fully accepted this philosophy,[7] understanding that nothing could take its place. For thirty years I have read and pondered it. Looking at its heights, how transcendent! Seeking to divide it, how compact! Yet is it neither too far away and high, nor too shallow and near at hand! Should Sages again appear they would follow it! For the "Way" of Heaven and Earth is the "Way" of Gyō and Shun:[8] the "Way" of Gyō and Shun is the "Way" of Confucius and Mencius; and the "Way" of Confucius and Mencius is the "Way" of Tei-Shu. Forsaking Tei-Shu we cannot find Confucius and Mencius. Forsaking Confucius and Mencius we cannot find Gyō and Shun; and forsaking Gyō and Shun we cannot find the "Way" of Heaven and Earth. Do not trust implicitly an aged scholar, but this I know and therefore speak. If I say that which is false, that which I have not verified, may I instantly be punished by Heaven and Earth.

At this all present straightened themselves and listened intently. The Old Man[9] continued; — This has not waited for my oath, it has been determined these five hundred years. From Shushi's own time the great scholars of the Sō, the Gen and Min[10] with all who followed the Ethical Philosophy have fully accepted him. Men of great learning debated, indeed, his style and minor points but said nothing against his philosophy.[11] So until the middle of the Min, learning was pure and the celebrated truth unimpaired. Then came Ōyōmei with his intuitionalism.[12] He attacked Shushi and changed the learning of the Min. After his death his pupils accepted the Zen[13] doctrines and thenceforth scholars were intoxicated with intuitionalism and weary of natural philosophy. They were either mere memorizers or they were Buddhists. That men without one ten-thousandth of the learning of Tei-Shu should readily find fault is for a wren to mock a bo,[14] for a caterpillar to measure the sea. As Kantaishi[15] says, — "To sit in a well and, looking at the sky, pronounce it small." But the superficial ignorant men who adopt these views because of their novelty are numberless.

In our land with peace for an hundred years learning has flourished. I cannot pronounce upon its value, but the ancient models and Tei-Shu have been firmly accepted, a cause for thankfulness. But of late some set forth false doctrine. They have established their school and gathered followers. Evil scholars appear above whom these men seek to advance themselves with senseless arguments, selfishly and wholly without shame. It is the fashion for all the dogs to join when one sets up his lying bark, so evil teachings and doctrines abound. Truly an evil fortune has befallen the ethical philosophy.

Kantaishi lived when Buddhism and Taoism flourished, and comparing himself to Mencius attacked them single handed with an oath, — "The Gods of Heaven and Earth are above, and to the right and left."[16] My oath has not the strength of Mencius but I do not purpose to fall behind the oath of Kantaishi. See to it that you do not hear in vain!"

Priest Genku's Oath

The celebrated priest Genku sent his oath to Tsukinowa, Kujō, Kyōto. The document is still in the temple of Shin-kuro-tani. I have not seen it but have been told that it is as follows, "If those who say nembutsu[17] go not to Heaven may I sink to Hell." Buddhists doubtless think that a strong oath, but from the point of view of our philosophy what could be more vain? If there is no heaven, of course there is no hell! It is easy to utter such oaths!

In the old days when retainers died with their lords,[18] in a certain clan many samurai were determined thus to end their lives. Among them was one young man who was especially lamented by every one. His karō called at his house and sought to dissuade him. But in vain. Finally, however, as the karō continued importunate his multitude of words forced consent, and the samurai with an oath promised to forego his purpose. So the official went home content. But on the morrow when he went to the temple with those who had resolved to die together there with the rest was this samurai saying his farewells to the guests. The karō exclaimed: "Though you deceive me how dare you break your oath? It is impious!" But the samurai laughed as he replied, "Forgive me for deceiving you. Yesterday had I not sworn you would not have left me, so I swore to satisfy you. As to the gods, though they punish me there is nothing more than death, and as I had determined to die I swore purposing to break my oath." The karō had not a word to say.

Such was priest Genku's oath. He knew there is no Hell, nothing beyond falling into the grave. But my oath is not like these. "With sovereign Heaven above, and treading the sovereign Earth beneath,"[19] by Heaven and Earth I swear. So like Genku I purpose to swear for my "Way" but if my oath is false I am punished by Heaven and Earth. Consider, in Buddhism "is" becomes "is not"[20] and truth is made falsehood. Only as that which "is not" becomes that which "is" can we make that which "is" into that which "is not." Only as we turn lies into truth can we turn truth into lies. Though we know that this talk of Heaven and Hell is false, still is it taught as if falsehood and truth were one. So is it taught to many men without distinction of wise and foolish, that if we say nembutsu punishment will be destroyed. This is Buddha's mystery. And here in Japan are many priests who are like the founders of sects who hold this mystery in their hearts. They transfer it from heart to heart and never say that all the talk of Heaven and Hell is false. Genku's oath was such a propagating oath. There is neither Heaven for Tsukinowa nor Hell for Genku. "Is not" is put for "is" and lies for truth, that men may be separated from birth and death. Such was Buddha's purpose.

Compare their scheme with our philosophy which guides men by the very truth! The difference is as the difference between the clouds and the earth.

Heresies Many

Once when the Old Man was ill his friends came to see him and he begged them to stay and cheer his loneliness. So they spent the day in conversation about the prevalent opinions. And one remarked: "I have heard the leading scholars of Edo and Kyōto. Some expound what they call our national religion and confound it with the Way of the Gods: others follow Ōyōmei and his intuitionalism; and others explain the ancient learning after new principles. Where is the truth in this confusion of strange and familiar opinions? What in your heart do you think?" And the Old Man replied: —

"I too have heard of these schools which have established themselves and teach heresy. Their wisdom is such as you described. But I cannot agree with them. For the 'Way' is from Heaven and its source is one. If we know that source we shall not distinguish the religion of our country from that of foreign lands; nor will intuitionalism be opposed to natural philosophy; nor will the learning of the Sages be put in opposition to Tei-Shu. The classical literature teaches all this, but it is not easy nor to be understood unless studied with humble and single minds. But scholars now-a-days are proud, and few of them thoroughly study the Tei-Shu works. Without knowing even the hedge of Tei-Shu they make their own hearts supreme and readily refute those great scholars. We shall postpone the consideration of their learning. We grieve over their thin, light, restless, shallow learning. They have not thoroughly studied Confucius and Mencius and do not understand them, so how can they fail to doubt Tei-Shu? They superficially attack them but I hear of no attacks on Confucius and Mencius. It is not that these scholars do not doubt the Sages but they know that Confucius and Mencius have been honoured and accepted by the world for two thousand years and that it will not listen to attacks upon them. But Shushi is modern and some in the age of the Min attacked him, so they feel at liberty to revile him. They act according to the man and not from established principles. They know that their philosophy can in no wise equal that of the Sages, and so make their excuses while they permit themselves to revile Shushi. Thus they hope to exalt themselves above him. But be that as it may!

As to Shintō, it professes to help our country and calls the Sages rebels.[21] Such a 'Way of the Gods' is apart from Benevolence and Righteousness. The illustrious virtue of intuitionalism is only the 'nature' of the Buddhists. The intuitionalists call Musashibo Benkei[22] a samurai of wisdom, humanity and bravery! Such intuitionalism is not of a heart that can distinguish good and evil.

And there are men professing the ancient learning who declare that the Great Learning is not the work of a Sage,[23] and that Confucianism and Buddhism are one! Such ancient learning is apart from virtue.[24]

The Old Man doubts all these teachings. Only the philosophy of Tei-Shu unites outer and inner, includes Benevolence and Righteousness, makes past and present one, and is the orthodox school descended in a straight line from Confucius and Mencius. My only deep anxiety is that its followers will merely argue and expound instead of practising what they preach. Such orthodoxy avails nothing. This evil abounded in the time of the Min, and so it was that Ōyōmei could reproach Shushi with this side issue. This is the source of heresy and the classics ever forbid such forgetfulness of practice and indulgence in empty talk. It is a subject for the most profound consideration."

The Blind of Heart

Then one remarked: "We agree that we can best overcome heresy by exhorting each other and striving after right conduct. So did Mencius when he replied to the attack of Yo-Bu[25] for he disregarded the charge of being disputatious and concluded his exposition of fundamental principles saying: 'The superior man returns to the right line.' Still more should we degrade the 'Way' now-a-days when heresies and heretics are like weeds on a plain and evil principles and contemptible opinions are like the fallen leaves of a forest, were we to reply to each one. Recently I was astounded at the words of a philosopher: 'The way comes not from Heaven,' said he, 'it was invented by the sages. Nor is it in accord with nature; it is a mere matter of æsthetics and ornament.[26] Of the five relations only the conjugal is natural, while loyalty, filial obedience and the rest were invented by the sages and have been maintained on their authority ever since.' Surely among all heresies from ancient days until now none has been so monstrous as this."

The listeners at this spoke together and laughed, and the Old Man said: —

"You know Sotōba's[27] parable about the sun? A man born blind once asked: 'What is the sun like?' and was told: 'It is round like this gong,' the speaker tapping the gong as he spoke. Oh! It has a voice! the blind man thought. And another said, 'It gives light,' and put a candle before his eyes. The blind man touched the candle and thought: 'The sun is long and slender!'

So is it with most men. Though they read books they are in the dark as to principles, and with open eyes they are blind in heart. And their much thinking is like this blind man's study of the sun. How can they fail to err! It is not necessary to discuss such opinions: it would be like discussing good and evil with men who have no hearts. Those who argue with them are like unto them.

I know the origin of such notions. These men are mere students of the letter. They like to hunt through a multitude of books but do not establish their hearts upon the classics. They study words and commentaries but do not seek the profound truth. They are ignorant of their own darkness and are given over to learned vanity and the love of empty praise. So has it been since the time of the Min. These men desire high things, revile the former superior men and set themselves above the scholars of the past. But the wise man sees that their learning is 'remote' and that they are intoxicated with the poison of Jun and So[28] and that their style is a mere culling of the ornaments of Ori.[29] With their heretical learning they declare that the 'Way' is not from Heaven. Testing it with their own base hearts they say that only the conjugal relation is 'natural.' Their arguments are weak but many believe them and the world seems to fancy their base opinions. We shall grieve indeed that thus they may increasingly injure the minds of men, and the accepted truth. To prevent such evil, empty words were punished in the Book of Rites.[30]

But in such a world for me, without talent or virtue, to stop the evil is to prop up a great house with a single stick. Who would believe my polemic or my exposition? And how should I escape the reproach of not knowing the limits of my powers? The Tei-Shu philosophy is like the ceremonial robes of former kings; but this is like selling the garments of civilized men to savages. Though his philosophy is the celebrated music of the world yet now is it like Eikaku's Song of Spring[31] among a people of barbarous speech. As the Book of Poetry says: 'Who knows me says: He has sorrow in his heart; Who knows me not says: Something he seeks; Blue, distant Sky! What man is this?'[32] So sang the officer of Shu in his sorrow over the downfall of the house of Shu, and such is my grief over the decay of the 'Way.'"

The Fool's Mountain

But I do not seek collaborators in this present age. Evil customs and false opinions from of old have flourished like rootless things, and bloom, with noisy reputation, for an hour. As the ages pass there is a sure return to the "Way" though to look for it in haste shows inexperience.

You know the works of Resshi.[33] He tells of a Mr. Fool who with his children laboured every day with pick and basket removing a mountain that stood inconveniently near his house. Mr. Wiseman jeered at the folly: "How can a few men remove a mountain?" But Mr. Fool replied: "I begin the task, my children continue it, their children after them and grandchildren's children labour on and finally it will be done." Thereat Mr. Wiseman laughed the more.

Such conduct men call silly and such men fools, and the critics are called "wise." But with such a "fool's" heart anything in heaven or earth can be done. And the men of wisdom with "Mr. Wiseman's" heart laugh at the Fool's mountain and accomplish nothing. For the world's folly is wisdom and its wisdom folly.

After my death comes a day that will settle this debate of an hundred years. Meanwhile men laugh at my roundabout ways, but I am old and stubborn, determined to go on in this purpose to the end. You may class me with Mr. Fool and his hill.

The Old Priest's Tree-Grafting

But I have another thought. Beyond Shinobu-ga-oka is a village called Yanaka with a temple of the Shin-gon sect; and there I often played when a boy. Once I heard a priest tell this story: —

In the period Kan-ei (A.D. 1624-1643) the Shōgun came to Yanaka on a hawking expedition, and as he followed the birds, chanced upon the temple with only an attendant or two. An old priest eighty years of age was grafting trees, and, with no notion of the Shōgun's rank, continued at his work. The Shōgun said: "What are you doing, Priest?" The priest thought the question foolish and replied shortly: "Grafting trees." The Shōgun laughed: "Such an old priest will not live to see them grow. What is the profit in your hard work?" The priest returned: "Who are you that says such a heartless thing? Consider! The trees will be big enough to darken the temple in the time of future priests. I work for the temple, not for myself alone." The Shōgun was filled with admiration. Meanwhile attendants kept coming up bearing the Shōgun's crest, and the priest recognizing his visitor fled in dismay. But the Shōgun called him back and rewarded him.

I am like this old priest. To the end of life I study the established principles, teach and write books that there may be the beginning of true learning in a future age. If I can help the "Way" one ten-thousandth, though I die still shall I live.[34] As one of old said: "Though dead the bones do not decay." So think I. I do not labour for myself at all. Believe me! Such is the Old Man's heart.

Sekkō's Dragon

But deep would be my shame were I to be like Sekkō. From youth have I cherished the Sages and superior men, reading their books, but I know them only from books and understand only the beginning of their true character. Were I to meet a living Sage who should prove different from those I have been cherishing, might I not hate him? I have such fears. And if I at all hate the Sages then all I say is false, a shame not comparable to the shame of hills and valleys. And how then should I wait for the coming age?

In the olden time Sekkō fancied dragons, painted them and spent days and nights in loving them. A real dragon heard of it and thought, if he is so devoted to painted dragons if I visit him how he will love me! So straightway he put his head through the window, but Sekkō fled panic-struck!

Among the scholars of the east and the west are some true men but most of them are proud and vain, desirous only of reputation and applause while professing to love the Sages. Should they meet a living sage they could not look him in the face. Their daily admiration is like Sekkō's devotion to dragons. Learning without the practice of virtue is like swimming in a field. In illustration of my meaning I will tell you a story of thirty years ago.

In Kaga I had a friend, a samurai of low rank named Sugimoto. While absent in Adzuma with his lord his son Kujurō, who was fifteen years old, quarrelled with a neighbor's son of the same age over a game of go, lost his self control and before he could be seized drew his sword and cut the boy down. While the wounded boy was under the surgeon's care Kujurō was in custody, but he showed no fear and his words and acts were calm beyond his years. After some days the boy died and Kujurō was condemned to hara-kiri. The officer in charge gave him a farewell feast the night before he died. He calmly wrote to his mother, took ceremonious farewell of his keeper and all in the house and then said to the guests: I regret to leave you all and should like to stay and talk till day-break; but I must not be sleepy when I commit hara-kiri to-morrow so I'll go to bed at once. Do you stay at your ease and drink the wine. So he went to his room and fell asleep, all being filled with admiration as they heard him snore. On the morrow he arose early, bathed, dressed himself with care, made all his preparations with perfect calmness and then, quiet and composed, killed himself. No old, trained, self-possessed samurai could have excelled him. No one who saw it could speak of it for years without tears.

At the beginning of the affair I wrote to his father: "Though Kujurō commit hara-kiri he is so calm and collected there need be no regret. Be at peace." But as Sugimoto read the letter he remarked: "A child often will be brave enough as others encourage it before the moxa is applied, and yet burst into tears when it feels the heat. My child is so young that I cannot be at peace until I hear that he has done the deed with bravery." As the proverb says, "Only such fathers have such sons." I have told you this that Kujurō may be remembered. It would be shameful were it to be forgotten that so young a boy performed such a deed.

But there is another reason also. Were I and all who study the words and mimic the actions of the ancient Sages to meet a living one different from our notions we should be like the child who cries as he feels the moxa applied. Surely it were shameful to study for years, attain the name of philosopher, and yet be less brave than this child Kujurō.

Therefore examine yourselves with this thought.

Renjaku Casts Away His Medicine-Spoon

At a later meeting the Old Man said: I have not finished what I was saying the other day about learning true and false. To day I'll make an end.

Three classes of scholars attack Shushi:

1st, the school of Ōyōmei. Ōyōmei was a strong man, and although his arguments will not stand examination still he was not wholly without reason. For in his day most scholars were busy with words and phrases and neglected self-examination. So he supposed that the "science" of Shushi was apart from righteousness and with his "intuitions" sought to examine himself. We approve his purpose. But Shushi's "science" does not neglect our intuitions but shows that they arise from "things." Apart from "things" can we seek our intuitions, after the fashion of Ōyōmei? But are not the classics, the ceremonies and music the teaching of former kings? What are these if not "things"? There are the six classics and the hundred deeds. Loyalty and disloyalty, truth and falsehood, we know their principles by "things." If intuitively we know all about reverence what need for the study of the ceremonies? And if by nature we are peaceful what need for music? Again, if intuitively we can govern our actions, making progress in loyalty and truth, if there is so short and easy a path why did not the sages teach it instead of their long and difficult "Way"? Then further, with what shall we employ these "intuitions" if not with "things"? "Surely" they will say, "in self examination and casting away lust we will employ our intuitions." Let me illustrate: The knowledge of the five sounds is by the ears, so let us mind our ears and know the five sounds without hearing them! And the knowledge of the five colours is by the eyes; let us attend to them and know the five colours without seeing them! And the knowledge of the five tastes is by the mouth, so if we have a care for it we shall know them without eating! Is it not plain that though the knowledge of the five sounds and of the rest is in ourselves, yet the colours, sounds and tastes are in "things" and that we know them only as we listen, look and eat? Still less can we know the finer distinctions of light and deep in colour, of pure and impure in sounds, and of delicate and harsh in tastes apart from things, for these differences are in the things."[35]

Without study we know that we must love our parents and reverence our elder brother, yet by our performance of these duties do we investigate the principles. So is it with all the hundred virtues of the Superior Man. If we are not thus "scientific" but use our intuitions merely, we shall not distinguish good and evil. Since filial piety is the beginning of the hundred virtues, I'll speak of that a while.

All filial sons know such precepts as "In the morning reflect and in the evening consider."[36] Yet even that is not known to the rustics who do not lack loving hearts. Still more as to "nourishing" our parents, all nourish them, yet is there the difference between merely caring for the body and nourishing also the heart. And though all reverence parents, yet many do not follow the severe, strict way with such precepts as, — "Do not speak of old age before them,"[36] and "Do not speak angrily before them, not even to a dog or horse."[36] All this is included in filial piety, and though a Sage might fulfil this law without learning the particulars one by one, surely not so an ordinary scholar. Such an one would not simply fail to fulfil the whole law, he would fall into actual transgressions.

We are not to cease obeying for the sake of study, nor must we establish all the laws before we begin to obey. In our obedience we are to establish its rightness or wrongness, examining ourselves as we read what the Sages say, tasting them carefully and reading them throughout. All the virtues are illustrated by what I have said. This is the scientific philosophy. Follow this course constantly and learn thoroughly these laws and at last you will not err, though you simply follow the dictates of your filial love. This is Tei-Shu's mystery, but only those who strive earnestly can know its flavour.

The expression of Mencius, "To know without learning is intuitive knowledge"[37] means that there is in man, before he studies, a heart which loves parent and reverences elder brother. Make that heart the foundation, study and we shall strengthen that power. Mencius did not teach that we can be perfect without study! This attempt to correct Shushi by casting aside the natural philosophy is not merely to misunderstand him. It is so to straighten the crooked that it bends backward.

2nd. — The scholars who reject the "ri-ki-tai-yo"[38] doctrine of Shushi and declare that it is not taught by Confucius and Mencius. But in reply we remember that Confucius said "The nature is alike;"[39] and Mencius said, "The nature is good"[40] and he further set forth the "yo-ki-ya-ki" doctrine which is not in the more ancient books. Confucius did not use these words of Shushi, but the scholars of the Sō did not offend against his principles. They knew none of these doubts and especially praised the discovery of what the Sages had not taught. The age of the Sō was long after Confucius and Mencius, and the scholars were busy with arguments and in the explanation of the "Way," and were not so careful to repeat the words of the Sages so long as their principles were not violated. When Shushi teaches that which is not in Confucius and Mencius, let us learn his meaning by careful thought and study. If there seem to be disagreement let us restrain our doubts, for if we declare that his doctrine does not please us and that it is opposed to the Sages the superficiality of our scholarship will be manifest. Such notions show shallow carelessness. I cannot argue all of these points but will speak in brief of ki and ri (spirit and law).[41]

These scholars say: "In Heaven and Earth there is only spirit (ki), flowing through the four seasons; it produces all things and naturally ceases not. This is the Way of Heaven. Clearly is it as we see it. It is nonsense for Shushi to put above this spirit another formless thing called law."[42] Even in China there were formerly many scholars who could not rid themselves of these doubts though they professed to have studied carefully Shushi. They at least did not settle the matter at a glance like our Japanese scholars. Of course I cannot pretend to settle the mysterious question of the priority of ki or ri at a sitting, but I will talk a while, taking an illustration from Laotze.[43]

"Reckoning up the wheel there is no wheel; reckoning up the year, there is no year." Let us see, this is the rim, this the hub, this the axle, this the spoke; but the rim is not the wheel, nor the hub, nor the axle, nor the spokes. Yet if we cast these away the wheel goes too. But the law of the wheel preceded it and before the wheel was made the principle was determined. And because the law is imperishable the carpenter follows it and makes the wheel. See then! Does the wheel come from the spokes and rim or do these come from the wheel? If we say the wheel comes from the parts we know its form but not its law.

So with the year. Twelve hours make one day, thirty days make a month, twelve months make a year. This then we say, is an hour, a day, a month or a year, and if we cast them aside, without them there is no year. But on the three hundred and sixty-sixth day sun and earth return and meeting make the year. For the year is not in day or month, but its "law" was determined first and sun and moon revolve according to this plan. So for ages calendars have been made, and for years and days that are not yet, for an hundred years to come as for the hundred years past. For the "law" is not in day or month but is forever. So is it that "Heaven speaks not, yet the four seasons labour and all things are produced."[44] For this is the centre, the main pillar of Heaven and Earth, the four seasons work by it and all things are begotten. This is the meaning of the expression: Reckoning up the wheel there is no wheel, and reckoning up the year there is no year.

Separated from "spirit" is no "law" for thus without form or place we should say simply "reason" (dori). Confucius by the shape separated the upper and the lower and over against the utensil placed the "Way"; and so Shushi by the form separated the before and after and over against the "spirit" placed the "law." The reasoning is the same. To neglect the fundamental reason and argue from the leaves and branches is to cause only confusion: no conclusion can be reached.

In like manner we reason of "body" and "activity." Where is activity there is always body. Body is quiet, motionless, activity moves and acts. Quietly nourished activity dwells with body, reflecting and moving body works with activity. This is what the expression, body and activity are one in origin without the least separation, means. Confucius said: "The Superior Man reforms that which is within with reverence, and establishes that which is without with righteousness."[45] Shishi said: "With moderation and harmony establish the universal way."[46] And Mencius: "Benevolence and righteousness are the great and holy way."[47] Without the words "body" and "activity" yet is the reason the same in all, and "body" and "activity" are in them all. But that crooked school of scholars rests content with the trifles it knows, and of course does not understand that perfect body and great activity are included in the "Way." There is no necessity for a thorough argument with them.

3rd. — These scholars are dissolute and weary of the illustrious virtue. They study only books and words. When once they hear the saying of Shushi: "With care and reverence establish the truth," they think it the commonplace of an antiquated scholar. They do not know that philosophers study by self-examination. As they noisily assail the ears of men with their babble, no reply is to be made to them. We can only draw a deep sigh.

Henjaku twice prescribed for the Duke of Sei, but the third time as he could do nothing more he cast away his medicine spoon and fled in dismay. Daily the disease of philosophy increases. Even Henjaku could not cure it. Still less can I, aged and talentless. I can only cover my mouth and flee in dismay.[48]

The Virtue of the Gods

When, one day, five or six students remained after the lecture to ask questions, one said: — I have a question. Many scholars explain 'Shin-tō' by saying that 'Japan is the Land of the Gods.' But their teaching is fantastic and opposed to reason. Since even the Sage did not speak lightly of the Gods[49] such men as we cannot understand it. We wish your help. We shall gain food for future thought. And as all were of one mind Okina replied: —

In the Book of Changes it is said, "The Sages formed their teaching by the Way of the Gods."[50] That is, their teaching is called 'The Way of the Gods' to manifest its Divine mystery, as we speak of the Way of Benevolence. But the 'Way of the Gods' is not a religion by itself. So I cannot accept that which is popularly called Shin-tō and that is exalted above the teaching of the Sages as our native religion. I do not profess to understand the profound reason of the Divinities but in outline this is my idea: —

The Doctrine of the Mean speaks of the "virtue of the Gods"[51] and Shushi explains this word "virtue" to mean "the heart and its revelation." Its meaning is thus stated in the Saden, "God is pure intelligence, and justice."[52] Now all know that God is just but do not know that he is intelligent. But there is no such intelligence elsewhere as God's. Man hears by the ear and where the ear is not he hears not though as quick of hearing as Shikō; and man sees with his eyes and where they are not he sees not, though as quick of sight as Rirō;[53] and with his heart man thinks and the swiftest thought takes time. But God uses neither ear nor eye, nor does he pass over in thought. Directly he feels, and directly does he respond. This then we should know is not two or three but just the virtue received from the one truth. Thus, in Heaven and Earth is a being of quickest eye and ear, separated from no time or place, now in this manner, communicating instantaneously, embodied in all things, filling the universe. Having of course neither form nor voice it is not seen nor heard by men. When there is truth it feels and when it feels it responds. When there is no truth it feels not and when it feels not there is no response. Responding at once it is, not responding it naturally is not. Is not this the Divinity of Heaven and Earth? So the Doctrine of the Mean says: "Looked for it cannot be seen, listened to it cannot be heard. It enters into all things! There is nothing without it."[54]

It is like Priest Saigyō's verse at the Shrines in Ise,[55]

"Though not knowing what it is,
Grateful tears he weeps."

Are not his tears from his perception of truth? Before the shrine he stands, single hearted, direct, with truth; and to his truth God also comes and they commune, and so it is he weeps.

As the reflection in the clear water answers to the moon, and together moon and pool increase the light, so if continually in the one truth they are dissolved we cannot distinguish God and man, even as sky and water, water and sky unite in one. "Everywhere, everywhere, on the right He seems and on the left."[56] This is the revealing of God, the truth not to be concealed. Think not that God is distant but seek Him in the heart, for the heart is the House of God. Where there is no obstacle of lust, of one spirit with the God of Heaven and Earth there is this communion. But except by this communion there is not such a thing. Saigyō did not weep before he went to the shrine and by this we know God came.

And now for the application. Examine yourselves, make the truth of the heart the foundation, increase in learning and at last you will attain. Then you will know the truth of what I speak.

As thus he spoke all were silent, impressed by the great thoughts of the aged philosopher. They too shed grateful tears like the priest before the shrine.

The Truth of the Sage

The Old Man continued: Consider the saying, "Shun by doing nothing rules."[57] The truth of the Sage is Divine. When anything there is we cannot use this phrase "doing nothing." Not knowing what it is or why but only that it is most holy and Divine "grateful tears he weeps." When the Sage enrobed with folded arms is in the place of power[58] the empire honours him as the sun and moon, imitates him as one imitates his parents and communes with him more than with the formless God of Heaven and Earth. Wherever he goes there is reformation as the fluid shapes itself to the vessel. When Shun was a farmer all naturally sought the enlargement of their neighbor's fields, and when he was a potter all turned out pieces without flaws. His thought is Divine and accomplishes that on which his heart rests as readily as one turns his hand. When Confucius would work reformation he merely rested in the place and the result was attained, and when he willed to move men, all followed in peace. How far is this from the thoughts of ordinary men![59]

The Sages did not "do" wonders, but their truth cannot be hidden. When the Superior Man utters a word within his room the response comes from a thousand miles and still more is his neighborhood reformed. And if an evil word is spoken a thousand miles are changed, and still more is the immediate neighborhood corrupted.[60] Not instantly does it go a thousand miles, but as the wind moves from blade of grass to blade so does that done in private go from house to province and on, increasing, to the empire. This is the nature of things, the truth that cannot be hidden. So the superior man is busy with self-reformation and cares nothing for outward effect and ornament, yet are his hidden riches revealed like a silken robe worn beneath a worthless wrap. But the vulgar man cares nothing for self-culture and only for display, like him who vainly seeks to cover up decay which yet increasingly manifests itself.

Maijō reproved the king of Go: "If you would not that men should know, do not act; and if you would not have them hear, do not speak."[61] This is a celebrated saying, simple in expression but profound in meaning. To speak evil or to do it, thinking it will not be known, is to add interest to the principal and to bind a burden on the back which grows heavy day by day. At last its weight is great, how shall it be concealed? All sin, except the Sage, even the superior man. But the superior man does not attempt to conceal his faults, but reforms them in the sight of men. Error and repentance are without attempt at concealment and thus virtue is increased. The error of the superior man is like the eclipse of the sun or moon, all see the error and all are impressed by his repentance.[62] Though less than the truth of the Sage when men see such a face and hear such words they believe and follow, nor is any exertion necessary. This is the true "communion." It never can be rivalled by the leadership of wisdom, power or gifts. How partial the saying, "Good stays within the gates but evil goes a thousand miles." Both when real go everywhere.

Monsters Arise from Man

A listener asked: — Since God is just and quick to perceive there may well be such communion with truth. But tradition from of old speaks of the appearance of evil things. Does reason account for them also? And the Old Man replied:

The Gods are the activity of Heaven and Earth, the good power of the In and Yō[63] and of course of the true "law." Man's nature is originally good but as it is individualized good and evil appear.[64] So too as God descends to man's world there is good and evil. For though the working through the four seasons of the spirit of the five elements of the In and Yō is of the right "law" of Heaven and Earth and not of evil at all, yet as that "spirit" is scattered throughout the universe and confused there arise unexpectedly winds, heat, cold and storms. Thus naturally there are evil spirits which are known as they are felt by men. When with a righteous "spirit" we feel, the righteous "spirits" respond; and when with an evil "spirit" we feel, the evil "spirits" respond. And as both good and bad come from this "feeling and response" with the In and Yō we cannot refuse to call the bad also, gods. In Heaven and Earth is no place where these "spirits" are not. The "feeling" of the good "spirits" whether great or small is all of the pure heart. So in the empire have the good qualities of humble men been perceived miraculously; and, in a private station frost has been perceived in summer and Kantaishi "felt" the alligator in the evil valley.[65] Such events are extraordinary, but they are not to be doubted and are all caused by the pure "feeling."

I read a while ago, in the writings of Shinseisan, of the daughter of a farmer. Her father was ill and she prayed that she might suffer in his stead. Because of this "feeling and response" for one night many birds sang round the house, three great stars shone in the sky, lighting up the eaves like the moon; and in the morning the farmer was well. Seisan was the head of the village and knew the facts. He named the place, — "The village of great filial piety," and set up a memorial. This is a certain fact and an illustration of the feeling of which I speak.

But in a degenerate age man's heart is evil; for the most part he "feels" the evil spirits and monsters appear. The Sage did not speak of wonders,[66] of feats of strength, confusions or divinities, yet as their "law" is included in "the distinction of things," they must be mentioned.

In the Saden, Shinju of Rō thus writes of monsters: — "When men fear then monsters arise by the flickering flames of the spirit. Monsters arise from men."[67] This accords well with our science. When the fire is undetermined the flame flickers, dying down and flashing up, and there is a state of man's spirit which is like this. As the proverb says, — "Men wish to see the thing they fear." They cannot forget it and led by their fancies, as the flame flashes up and dies down, now they see it and then they see it not. At last so giddy is their spirit that they question their own identity and then, into that opening the spirits thrust themselves and show their forms in visions and monsters and things of evil. These come by the flames of the spirit, and cease by the "feeling" of the good spirits.

In the tales of Tō-Sō[68] it is said that at Lake Do-tei is a temple to the water god, where travellers pray before they embark. A merchant of firm faith, and mindful of his prayers as he crossed year by year, was drowned at last in a storm. Thereupon his son in grief and anger came determined to burn, on the morrow, the temple which had failed to aid in spite of prayers and gifts. But in his dreams the god appeared in fright and said: — "Forgive me and to-morrow you shall hear Divine music on the lake. I fear neither the burning of the temple nor your wrath, but seek forgiveness since I cannot ward off the fixed determination of your mind."

This trifling story teaches that the gods fear a determined mind. Had the man been undetermined whether he should burn or not, now resolute and now irresolute, he had been cursed.

In the castle of Sumpu[69] was a fox called Uba. It would put a towel on its head and dance, no form being seen, only the towel waving in the air. As the towel was taken from the hand by the fox a rubbing was felt across the palm. And the young men would seek to hold the towel fast but could not. Ōkubo Hikozaemon,[70] however, held out the towel and the fox could not take it; for he had resolved when he felt the touch to cut with his sword both fox and hand. The fox knew his purpose and was powerless. When the heart of the samurai is determined there is no entrance and the fox can work no ill. Still more is this the case with Sages and superior men. For evil melts before the righteous spirits like ice before the sun. Those who practice evil arts against such men find their curses returned upon themselves. But good men are few and evil spirits abound.

And, further, men worship at profane temples and believe in Buddhism. As a shadow goes with a body so if there is strong belief even where there is naught we shall construct a being. Wonders are seen and folks are more and more deceived and the truth is lost. Trifles are thought to be of the gods and the Buddhas and are foolishly called their answers. The priests invent lies, deceive the people, assembling them together until the offerings of pennies are like mountains. These cheats are the thieves of the nation, a great evil to the empire.

The Goblin of Hidayama

After a pause the Old Man continued: — This "feeling and response" of the gods is the thoroughfare of the spirit. If there is the least "touch" of the spirit, though it show not in voice or face the gods know it at once. But when in perfect quiet there is no mixture of the spirit the gods can find no place to enter in. This is the true nature (honbun), what I call the "self." The verse of Sha-rei-un[71] happens to set off my thought although he did not know the profound meaning of the "self:" —

"The perfect man exalts himself."

The Book of Changes says: "Heaven opposes not, still less does man or god."[72] This of course is true of man, and also of Heaven and the gods. So the Sage kings with this "self" were above the empire, — "The empire is only I, who can break my resolution?" The later philosophers put "self" apart from ten thousand, and in the midst of the multitude knew only "self."

Where then is this "self"? It is before all thought, the reality of the unmoved. Superior men cherish it, Heaven and Earth are given rank by it and by it all things are reared. From it "feeling" goes to God and there is nothing apart from it. As Shokosetsu says, "If there is not a thought even the gods cannot know; if not by self then not by anyone."[73] Here is a vulgar illustration which I heard in Kaga.

A sawyer was making boards in the woods of Hidayama when he saw a hermit with a long nose, and took him for a goblin. Thereon the hermit said: "Why do you take me for a goblin and hate me and wish me away?" The sawyer in extremity picked up his things to depart when a board slipped by chance and hit the goblin on the nose. "You dreadful man," it cried, "I cannot understand your thoughts," and ran away. It could not endure the unpurposed hit. So it is that, "if there is no thought even the gods cannot know."

But ordinary minds are ever moved by the undetermined thoughts and fancies with which they are filled. So they are led by spirits, enchained by things and the "self" cannot assert itself. We must nourish the source of "self" if we would not lose it and first of all by getting rid of lust. Without lust, in repose, and without plans or thought, from this empty quietness alone, in accord with right reason does movement come, determined before all and thus after all is no fall. This it is to command the gods and not be commanded by them. Without voice or odour it is the foundation of the empire, a formless body. Without thought or act it is the source of all.[74]

Unknown of men the origin of a thought in darkness and solitude is like the coming of spring while winter still is here. Just as the thought begins to come there is the distinction of right and wrong, as this year and next divides while winter remains. A thousand miles of error come from an inch. In the trifle is the separation of right and wrong, their division and their boundary gate. "Ceaselessly we must guard this gate" asking our hearts whether right or wrong is in our choice. Thus to forsake all evil and follow good is the beginning of the practice of our philosophy. Careless here, knowing good and evil only as shown in face and act, is to be too late. Struggle as we may we shall not attain.

All "Ways" Enter by Deeds

Many who had been absent for a time came again and excused themselves saying: We have been busy and so have been negligent. But the Old Man replied:

It is the fashion for scholars to say that occupation with the affairs of the world has made them negligent. I too have made that mistake. But the true difficulty is a want of resolution while we, unmindful of that, lay the blame on our occupation. This doubtless may interfere with our study of the books but "learning" is the practice of the "Way" of the Sages. True, we must know the "laws" if we are to act aright and these are learned not merely from books, though the study of the classics is to be put first. Read, learn the "laws" and then search them out in conduct and affairs; this is true knowledge, the knowledge that is the beginning of right conduct. The "Way" of the Sages is not apart from the things of every day. Loyalty, obedience, friendship, all the relations are in this "learning," and not a movement, not even our resting, is without its duty.

Ōyōmei's followers reproach the "science" of Shushi and say: Doubtless it is admirable, but how shall busy men find time to learn its universal laws? Thus they misunderstand Shushi to teach that first at our leisure we determine "laws" and only afterwards begin to practise them. Not so! We learn loyalty and obedience as we are loyal and obedient. To-day I know yesterday's shortcomings and to-morrow shall I know to-day's. This is the knowledge of the scientific philosophy. In our occupations we learn whether conduct conforms to right, and so advance in the truth by practice.

Big and little describe things and not principles, so everywhere and always may we learn philosophy, nor should we despise anything. For principles are decided by the things of Heaven and Earth. But all in proper order, not neglecting the important things of every day that the laws of trees or blades of grass may be determined. In the "Way" of Heaven and Earth there is nothing which comes not from deeds. And where there is anything there is the rule. Just as with the six accomplishments we learn by practice and yet not without rules, so is it with the "Way." Though I have an intuition, if I know not the rule of its application I am like an unpolished jewel or unsmelted ore.

An old samurai thus taught his pupils. Be not samurai through the wearing of two swords, but day and night have a care to bring no reproach on the name. When you cross your threshold and pass out through the gate go as men who shall never return again. Thus shall you be ready for every adventure you may meet. All men of deep earnestness think thus. The Buddhist is forever to remember the five commandments and the samurai the laws of chivalry. But these are easy, being of limited application. But philosophy is of all things, and in all the scholar finds his duty. And especially three things must never be forgotten, the blessings of parent, lord and Sage. Parents bestow and cherish the body, not a hair even is apart from them and their love. The daimyō gives us all we have, and maintains us, not a chopstick save from him. And the Sage instructs us and saves us from the state of the brutes. Remembering these blessings the original nature is not lost, Heaven's reason is not destroyed and all the virtues are brought together. This is the mystery of our philosophy. Impress it even on your bodies.

But now-a-days young men seek only pleasure. Careless of their duty to parent and lord they fall into selfishness. And their elders and scholars know not the blessing of the Sages but are proud and desirous of fame, without a drop of truth. Did they know this mystery they would curb their proud spirits and become helpers in the "way" of virtue. But now, teachers and pupils laugh at the truth of Shushi till head and stomach ache. Were they to hear my threefold mystery their stomachs would pain them to the point of throwing up. But all who truly know understand that it is not an empty and senile word.

Notes

[1] The five books are named after the five cardinal virtues, but without especial significance.

[2] At fourteen or fifteen years of age his hair was tied in a queue. He lived with the samurai. And his home in the North was Kaga.

[3] To Edo, by the Shōgun.

[4] The expressions of humility are conventional. Kyusō had the highest influence and honours given by the Tokugawa to a scholar. He was admitted to the immediate presence of the Shōgun and was consulted on affairs of state.

[5] The Sō and the philosophy of Tei-Shu are introduced in the Introduction, above.

[6] A teaching that governs one's own life.

[7] So Confucius "at forty had no doubts." Analects, II; IV, 3. At "fifteen he had his mind bent on learning."

[8] The mythical Sage kings of China. Gyō according to the ordinary untrustworthy chronology began to reign B.C. 2357 and reigned 100 years, being succeeded by Shun, who reigned 50 years. The Middle Kingdom, Vol. II, p. 148.

[9] Okina, the old man, is a title of respect.

[10] The Gen (Yuen) dynasty was Mongol, A.D. 1280-1368, and was succeeded by the Min (Mings), 1368-1644. The Middle Kingdom, Vol. II, pp. 175-179.

[11] The text here has a list of Chinese scholars whose names are omitted from this translation, per the translator's introduction above: of the Sō, Shinseizan and Gikakuzan; of the Gen, Kiyorozai Kosoro; of the Min, Sek-kei-ken and Ko-kei-sai.

[12] Ōyōmei is introduced above, in the Introduction. His "intuitionalism" is discussed there; see Mencius, Book VII, Part I, Chap. XV, 1.

[13] The Zen sect of Buddhism, the contemplative sect which professes to use no book.

[14] The bo is a fabulous bird of monstrous size.

[15] Kantaishi was one of the eight most celebrated literary men of China. He was of the time of the Tō (Tang). "He was foremost among the statesmen, philosophers, and poets of the T'ang dynasty and one of the most venerated names in Chinese literature. . . In A.D. 819 he presented a remonstrance to the emperor Hien Tsung against the public honours with which he had caused an alleged relic of Buddha to be conveyed to the imperial palace. The text of Han Yu's (Kantai's) diatribe against the alien superstition is still renowned as one of the most celebrated of state papers. But its only effect was the banishment of the author. During his banishment Kantaishi laboured to civilize the barbarians with whom he lived, and his efforts are symbolized in a legend that he expelled a monstrous crocodile. Later he was restored to honour." Mayers, p. 50.

[16] The Doctrine of the Mean, XVI. The word for "Gods" here is ki-shin.

[17] The Buddhist prayer, Namu Amida-butsu.

[18] The custom was only abolished finally in A.D. 1664; Lay's "Japanese Funeral Rites," Vol. XIX, Pt. III, p. 528 of these Transactions. A karō was the minister of a daimyō.

[19] The commentary on The Spring and Autumn, Book V, Year XV, p. 165 of the Chinese Classics, Legge's edition.

[20] This refers to the Buddhist hōben, pious devices to lead the ignorant to virtue.

[21] See Vol. III, Appendix, of the Transactions, "The Revival of Pure Shin-tau," pp. 20-31, for the Shintō attack on the Chinese philosophy. The "holy men" of China are there called "merely successful rebels." And in like spirit were they reviled long ago in China; see "The Divine Classic of Nan-Hua," Balfour's translation, pp. 112-113.

[22] Musashibo Benkei. The priest and robber samurai who became the most trusted retainer of Minamoto Yoshitsune.

[23] If by a Sage the author means Confucius then the Great Learning is not by a Sage, but is accepted as containing his teaching. The Chinese Classics, Vol. I, Prolegomena, pp. 26-27. The author, in the sections devoted to literature omitted from this translation, shows some familiarity with the results at least of criticism, but he does not apply it to the classics, uncritically accepting everything as written by Confucius which tradition ascribed to him.

[24] The Ancient Learning School is discussed by Mr. Haga in his "Note," and by the translator in his "Comment," both mentioned in Book V below. The "Illustrious Virtue" is a phrase of the Ōyōmei School.

[25] Mencius, Book III, Pt. II, Chapter IX. The quotation is not verbal.

[26] So from the beginning, because of the stress laid on rites.

[27] Sotōba was one of the most famous of the Chinese literary men. He was of the time of the Sō (Sung) dynasty. He was of the orthodox school, and was statesman and poet as well as philosopher. Mayers, p. 190.

[28] Jun and So were Taoist writers. Jun was distinguished as a scholar and statesman. He committed suicide A.D. 212. So is the famous Chang, author of "The Divine Classic of Nan-Hua" (trans. by F. H. Balfour). Mayers, pp. 198 and 30.

[29] Writers notorious for the meretricious ornamentation of their style.

[30] This reference to the punishment of "vain words" was not an empty threat. The Tokugawa government forbade all deviation from the Tei-Shu system in its schools, and the great provincial schools went still further.

[31] The Historical Records.

[32] The Shih King, Lessons from the States, Book VI, Ode 1, "On seeing the desolation of the old capital of Kau." Sacred Books of the East, Vol. III, p. 439.

[33] Res-shi, a Chinese metaphysician of the age preceding Confucius. Mayers, p. 126. His writings were edited in the fourth century A.D. and take high rank among Taoist writings.

[34] Said Laotze: "He who dies but perishes not enjoys longevity." Tao Teh King, p. 26, Chalmers' translation. "This is identical with the Comtist version of immortality; the man lives on in the posthumous results of his former works." Balfour, Chuang-Tsze, xix, note. Compare George Eliot: "O may I join the choir invisible / Of those immortal dead who live again / In minds made better by their presence."

[35] Kaku-butsu-gaku the translator renders "science." It is thus explained in a passage he quotes: "Distinction of things is simply the same as study because all study is a discriminating contemplation of things whether real or abstract. Certainly one must contemplate them until from them a principle has been drawn. . . It may therefore be said [this] is a sifting of materials. But it is not natural science . . . it refers to men." "A Systematical Digest of the Doctrines of Confucius," p. 55. See the Great Learning, 4-5: "Wishing to be sincere in their thoughts, they first extended to the utmost their knowledge. Such extension of knowledge lay in the investigation of things." The Chinese Classics, Vol. I, p. 222, Legge's translation.

[36] These quotations are from the "Book of Rites."

[37] Book VII, Part I, Chap. XV, 1: "The ability possessed by men without being acquired by learning is intuitive learning, and the knowledge possessed by them without the exercise of thought is their intuitive knowledge." Legge's translation. The Chinese Classics, Vol. II, p. 332.

[38] Law, spirit, body, activity.

[39] Analects, Book XVII, Chap. II.

[40] Book VI, Part I, Chap. VI.

[41] Book II, Part I, Chap. II, 9-16. Dr. Legge translates "ki" as "passion nature" and remarks that there is much discussion in the commentaries of how the ki of heaven and earth is also the ki of man; he translates the passage: "This is the passion nature: it is exceedingly great and exceedingly strong. Being nourished by rectitude, and sustaining no injury, it fills up all between heaven and earth." The Tei-Shu school might question this rendering. If the author and his master Shushi understood the classics, the ki of heaven and earth may well be identified with the ki in man; the translator does not see how their philosophy can be otherwise explained. Dr. Legge elsewhere writes: "Khi (ki), or 'spirit,' is the breath, still material but purer than the Zing (essence) and belongs to the finer, and more active part of the ether." The Yi King, p. 355 note, Vol. XVI, Sacred Books of the East. And again: "The name of the intelligent spirit is literally 'the knowing breath' . . . 'the breath' being used like the Hebrew ruach and the Latin spiritus. I have adduced it to show how he (Confucius) held that, while man's body crumbles and returns to the dust at death, the liberated spirit, 'the breath' as he phrases it, ascends to a brighter state." The Religions of China, pp. 119-121. In fact the Stoic "pneuma" is the "ki" of the school of Tei-Shu, and so of the dominant system of Chinese thought to our day: "The human soul, as defined by the Stoics, is an inborn breath . . . It is a part severed from the Deity. The latter pervades the world as an all pervading breath. The human soul is a part of the Deity, or an emanation from the same; the soul and its source act and react upon each other. The soul is the warm breath in us. Opinions differed as to its life after the death of the body." Ueberweg's History of Philosophy, Vol. I, pp. 194-196, Eng. trans. See "Ki, Ri and Ten" below (Book V).

[42] See the Chinese Repository, Vol. XIII, pp. 552, 609 et seq. for a translation of Shushi's exposition of these words. Medhurst there translates "ri" as immaterial principle and "ki" as primary matter. McClatchie translates "ri" by "fate" and "ki" by "air" in "Confucian Cosmogony." Eitel translates them "law" and "vital energy"; the present translator, "spirit" and "law," the former in the Stoic sense of pneuma. Griffith John translates "ri" "immaterial principle" and "ki" "material principle." See the translator's "Comment" below (Book V) for a summary of Shushi's teaching.

[43] This quotation is not found in the Tao Teh King.

[44] Analects, Book XVII, Chap. XIX, 3.

[45] Book of Changes, Appendix IV, Section II, 6.

[46] The Doctrine of the Mean, Chap. I, 4-5. Shishi was Grandson of Confucius.

[47] Book I, Part I, Chapter I, 3, amplified by the author.

[48] Henjaku (Pien Ts'iao) was the title given to a physician who lived in the State of Chao about the sixth century B.C. He was instructed in the mystic art of healing by a Sage possessed of magic powers. Henjaku dissected the human body. The Chinese theory of the pulses is derived from his discoveries. Mayers's "Manual," p. 172.

[49] Analects VII, 20.

[50] Appendix I, Sec. I, Hex. XX, 3.

[51] Doctrine of the Mean, XVI, 1.

[52] The oldest commentary on The Spring and Autumn, Book III, Year XXIII, Part II. Dr. Legge translates (Chinese Classics, Vol. V, Pt. I, p. 120): "The spirits are intelligent, correct, impartial." The word "spirits" is "shin" (kami) and in this passage can be rendered only by God or Gods.

[53] Rirō could distinguish a single hair at the distance of an hundred paces. Mayers, p. 119. Shikō had magical powers of hearing.

[54] Doctrine of the Mean, XVI, 1, 3. Legge translates in the plural: "We look for them," the text of course having no distinction of number.

[55] Saigyō was a celebrated retainer of Yoritomo who became a priest. He died A.D. 1198.

[56] The Doctrine of the Mean, XVI, 3; Legge translates, "Like overflowing water they seem to be over the heads, and on the right and left of the worshippers."

[57] Analects XV, 4.

[58] Book of Changes, Appendix I, Sec. I, 1, 5; Doctrine of the Mean, Chap. XXXI.

[59] Mencius, Book VII, Pt. I, Chap. XIII, 3: "Wherever the superior man passes through transformation follows; wherever he abides his influence is of a spiritual nature. It flows abroad above and beneath like that of Heaven and Earth." Legge's translation. This application of the influence of the ideal sage to the historical Confucius is remarkably at variance with the facts of his ill success as a statesman when alive.

[60] Book of Changes, Appendix III, Sec. I, Chap. VIII, 42.

[61] Reference in Japanese to a specific work is given in the print edition but not reproduced here.

[62] Mencius, Book II, Pt. II, Chap. IX, 4; Analects, Book XIX, Chap. XXI.

[63] The so-called male and female principles of Chinese cosmogony; see Mr. Haga's "Note," Book V below.

[64] There is an ideal nature which is good. It is the same with the "ri," the "law," but when it is individualized, when it unites with the "ki-nature," both good and evil appear. This "ki-nature" varies, is thin or dense, is the air, the breath, the essence of the five elements, forms matter. It is in man as his "spirit," which may therefore be thought of as material, but matter might also be thought of as ethereal. The spirit within us "feels" the spirit without and the latter "responds." So there is a revelation of the invisible, a theophany, but it is of the will of man and not of the will of God (see above). Evil seems to be confusion, the good powers appearing at the wrong times. The five elements are wood, fire, earth, metal, water — perhaps better translated "the five activities" manifested in the five elements. The word spirit throughout this piece represents the character "ki."

[65] See the reference to Kantaishi above.

[66] Analects VII, 20.

[67] Dr. Legge translates: "When men are full of fear their breath as it were blazes up and brings such things. If men give not cause for them they do not arise of themselves." Chinese Classics, Vol. V, Pt. I, p. 92. The translator does not understand "ki" here to mean "the breath" but the "spirit": the spirits (ki) around us are confused and undetermined and powerless against a determined mind, but when man's spirit (ki) is undetermined and flickers like a flame, then he is deceived by the evil "ki" and monsters appear.

[68] A collection of common stories of the dynasties Tō and Sō.

[69] The Tokugawa castle at Suruga.

[70] A famous retainer of Ieyasu, Hidetada and Iemitsu.

[71] A scholar of the Min dynasty.

[72] The Book of Changes, Appendix IV, Sec. I, Chap. VI, 34.

[73] A famous poet and philosopher of the Sō dynasty.

[74] Thought and act are of the ki, the true self is of the ri; see "Ki, Ri and Ten" below (Book V).

Book II — Righteousness

The Study of Martial Fortune

Returning from exercise some young men stopped one day, and the Old Man said to them: As your profession is that of arms constant drill is necessary; but good fortune is more important than skill since without it skill avails not. Mori Musashi no Kami was called the Demon of Musashi, so skillful and strong was he: but at Nagakute[1] he was killed instantly by a bullet, and what benefit was there in his skill and courage? Skill rests on fortune; so study this most earnestly. Your instructors teach you arms but they know not the study of fortune. Such as I can teach you that!

Then one replied: I do not understand this study of martial fortune. Surely it is beyond man's control. Could it be acquired by study all the world would learn! The Old Man shook his head: Yes, there is such study. Tell us of it then, the students said; and the Old Man went on:

Consider, all of you! Whence is fortune? From Heaven! Even the world says, "Fortune is in Heaven." So then there is no resource save prayer to Heaven. Let us then ask: What does Heaven hate and what does Heaven love? It loves benevolence and hates malevolence.

It loves truth and hates untruth. Its heart is this, that it forms all things and unceasingly begets men. Even when in autumn and winter it seems the spirit of death it is not so, but the root, the spirit of birth is gaining strength. So does the Book of Changes declare: "Birth is called 'change,'"[2] and again: "The great virtue of Heaven and Earth is called birth."[3] That which in Heaven begets all things in man is called love. So doubt not that Heaven loves benevolence and hates its opposite.

So too with truth. For countless ages sun and moon and stars constantly revolve and we make calendars without mistake. Nothing is more certain! It is the very truth of the universe! When man leaves all else and is humane and true he accords with Heaven, it surely cherishes and embraces him. But with mere temporary virtue[4] comes no such revelation. We must always obey, being ever benevolent and injuring no one, being ever true and deceiving no one. As the days and months pass such truth appeals to Heaven, and Heaven helps so that even in battle we meet no misfortune nor strike against bullet or spear. This is the study of martial fortune. Do not think it an old man's foolish talk.

How sad is the condition of the world! Men seek only profit and hate their fellows! With their wisdom they make a lying appearance and think it a skilful device for passing through the world. At last they are cast off by Heaven and how can there be any good for them? I have noticed prayers for good luck brought year by year from famous temples and hills decorating the entrances to the abodes of famous samurai. But none the less have they been killed or punished, or their line has been destroyed and house extinguished. Or at the least, to many shame and disgrace have come. They have not learned "fortune" but foolishly depend on prayers and charms. Confucius said: "When punished by Heaven there is no place for prayer."[5] Women of course follow the temples and trust in charms but not so should men. Alas! Now all are astray, those who should be teachers, the samurai and those higher still! Whose fault is it then that this evil way wins the multitude? Okina weeps as he repeats the verse of Moshi, — "Watching the crow — on whose roof will it alight?"[6]

The Rewards of Virtue and Vice

After a little some one said: I am much impressed with this new study of martial fortune, nor shall I forget it. But still I have my doubts. Do not men of humanity and truth meet with misfortune, while selfish, false men are happy? Gankai the saint died young and poor; Tōseki[7] the infamous robber was long-lived and rich. Do explain such facts.

The Old Man replied: — The good are happy and the wicked miserable. This is the certainly determined and just law. But happiness and misery are not thus fore-ordained. They depend on circumstances. The Sages speak of the true law and not of the undetermined circumstances. If we would live long we abstain from drink and lust that the body may be strong. If in service we seek promotion we are diligent in duty. But some men who are careful of their health die young and some careless men live long. Yet surely, care is not in vain! So too some diligent men through misfortune gain no promotion and negligent men by chance have been advanced. Yet surely, diligence is not in vain! Were we to think care of the body useless we should spend days and nights in drinking and lust until at last we should be diseased and die. And were we to think diligence in vain we so frequently should neglect our duty that punishment and degradation would be ours. Care of the body is the "way" of long life, as is diligence of promotion. These laws are unchangeable. Again consider! When we make plans, do we leave all to chance or determine first the principles of our action? Of course the latter, and then we do not repent even though we are unfortunate. We cannot arrange for chance. But to leave all to chance and fail, that leads to repentance. Sin is the source of pain and righteousness of happiness. This is the settled law. The teaching of the Sages and the conduct of superior men is determined by principles and the result is left to Heaven. Still, we do not obey in the hope of happiness, nor do we forbear to sin from fear. Not with this meaning did Confucius and Mencius teach that happiness is in virtue and pain in sin. But the "Way" is the law of man. It is said: "The 'Way' of Heaven blesses virtue and curses sin." That is intended for the ignorant multitude. Yet it is not like the Buddhist hōben, for it is the determined truth.

The Victory of Heaven and Man

Again he said; — When men are many they win from Heaven, but when Heaven decrees it wins. It is a famous saying: Heaven always wins, evil cannot contend with right. Men, when many and strong, may succeed for a time, yet only for a time while Heaven is undecided; afterwards it wins. Heaven is forever and is not to be understood at once, like the promises of men. Short-sighted men consider its ways and decide that there is no reward for vice or virtue. So they doubt when the good are virtuous and fear not when the wicked sin. They do not know that there is no victory against Heaven when it decrees.

Gankai died young. Tōseki lived long, for Heaven's decree was not yet formed. But now as we study the decree: Gankai indeed lived poverty-stricken and in obscurity, but his name lasts thousands of years with the sun and moon. Tōseki had a thousand followers and walked in pride but when he died his name perished before his body was cold; while his shame lasts an hundred generations, memorial of many evil deeds. Was then Gankai's reward from Heaven small, and Tōseki's great?

And seldom is the award so late; generally it is at once. Sometimes it is delayed awhile and yet is received in person. Nowadays in Japan are many evil officials; some are punished soon, some after a delay; some are detected at once, some only by and by and some not until after death. For the collection and disbursement of taxes in town and province goes on unceasingly and a deficit is not perceived. So the wicked man is wise in his own interest and, by many devices, appropriates the property of the government to his own use that he may live in luxury and ease. While still undiscovered he congratulates himself upon his cleverness. And when others are detected he puts it to their want of skill, and grows in pride instead of being warned. But surely his evil wisdom makes some mistake. He overlooks something which reveals his wickedness, and cleverness and devices avail not when he is examined and every item studied. For a time he was free, but soon or late there is no escape.

Since thus something may be taken from the great stores of the government and the loss be not perceived at once, still more from Heaven whose treasures, lands and seas and men by millions, are very great. Evil and good mingle in vast numbers and awards cannot be made at once. It is not wonderful that bad men tread the dangerous evil way in search of gain. But Heaven too has its time for settling its accounts. Then the most clever accountant cannot rival the exactness of its perception; and its awards, mild and bitter, heavy and light are without the least mistake. In China and Japan many strong men have prided themselves on courage, wisdom and plots, and, Heaven being still undetermined, have thought it could be moved by man's power. For a while as they strive with great and evil powers they seem to gain their ends, but Heaven soon decrees and body and house are lost. Many such instances there are, of old and now. To think that man may win from Heaven is the source of evil. For bad men see temporary gain and rejoice with shallow wisdom. But true men see and greatly fear the evil that is invisible. As the Book of Poetry says, — "Fear the will of Heaven. Obey according to the times." Truly ever fear and cherish it.

The Fleeting, Dream-Like World

One of the students who had been a Buddhist but now studied philosophy with the Old Man, said one day to another student; — The Old Man teaches me the exalted truth of Confucius, but Buddhism too has truth not to be cast aside. Scholars are entangled by the world and deceived by reality and seek fame and gain. So they die without seeing the truth. Buddhism knows the world's a dream, a vision, and though it is heresy still it leads many to the truth as it teaches the true nature of the Buddha. Good and evil are twisted together like the strands of a rope. Joy and sorrow stand ever at the gate waiting to enter. The fleeting world is like a dream; how shall we find satisfaction in it? To see that it is a dream is to find the beginning of the "Way."

The Old Man replied; — There is reason in what you say, and therefore many famous samurai have forsaken philosophy for Buddhism. They are like the guest who ate too much at a feast and went home in agony, holding his big belly with his hands. He met an empty bellied beggar seeking food and cried out: Oh! If I were only like that man! Then I should not suffer so. Such are the scholars who, surfeited with the world and offended with philosophy, turn to the teaching of the priests. They know not that the land of rest is in our teaching.

From the beginning of Heaven and Earth the "Way" of the three relations and five laws has not changed. It is Heaven's truth. It is not a dream. It is not a "borrowed world." But men want rank and gain. They seek them day and night until death and pursue them west and east. Success and ruin quickly come and quickly go, all alike unexpected. Such unrighteous success Confucius called, "Clouds that form and disappear."[8] But in the Buddhist doctrine of "three worlds" all seems a dream. There is no distinction of truth and falsehood; and the "Way" of the three relations and five laws is destroyed and thrown away as rubbish. As if we should destroy eye and ear! We see and hear by them and, forsooth, in sight and sound are errors! Shall we then make ourselves deaf and blind and be content, hearing and seeing naught? The heart is from Heaven; is endowed with all reason and responds to all things. Thus is the "empty spirit"[9] exalted. Now if we deny both reason and things, the three relations and the five laws, and our own heart, what shall be the true heart? These heretics even must make our wonderful consciousness to be the true nature of Buddha.

The heart is like light. Fire is called light because it shines on things. The phosphorescence of sea and hill is like fire: yet lights nothing but dances in solitude, in waste places far from men. Shall we exalt it and call it a light Divine? Buddhism, separated from the "Way" of the five relations and the five virtues, moves men uselessly, without real connection with reason or affairs. Vainly it talks of Divine knowledge. In Japan before the Empress Suikō, and in China before the Emperor Mei[10] were no such men or hearts. It is all useless but for a thousand years here and in China high and low have felt its influence. Lords and retainers, parents and children have been deserted by men who have become priests. And others look on with longing and say, — "They have accepted the true religion." It is most contemptible, no matter what may be the purpose. Surely it is shameful! And the Old Man was silent for a while.

Reason comes from Heaven, he continued, and is in men. If we know it not in ourselves we know it not at all. This kind knowledge exceeds all former experience as we love our friend an hundredfold as we discover that he is bound to us by the ties of nature, is our lost father or brother. An abstainer knows that sake is sweet, but not as if he tasted it. And the sake drinker knows not the taste of mochi. The true philosopher knows the truth as the drinker knows the taste of sake and the abstainer the taste of sweets. How shall he forget it? How shall he fall into error? Lying down, getting up, moving, resting, all is well. In peace, in trouble, in life, in death, in joy, in sorrow, all is well. Never for a moment will he leave this "Way." This is to know it in ourselves. But I have not yet attained to this, nor do I truly know the "Way."[11]

The Morning Glory's Hour

Matsunaga thus sings of the Morning-glory: — "The Morning-glory of an hour, Differs not in heart from the pine of a thousand years."[12] What profundity! Many have sung of the morning-glory, of its short life, of autumn loneliness and the vanity of the world, so Hakkyoi: —[13] "After a thousand years the pine decays; The flower has its glory in blooming for a day." That is pretty but it merely makes bloom and decay one. The ignorant think it profound but it is very superficial, like Buddhism and Taoism. Matsunaga's verse has other meaning, has it not? I think it means, "He who in the morning hears the 'Way' may die content at night."[14] To blossom early, wait for the rising sun and die, such is the morning-glory's nature received from Heaven. It does not forget its own nature and envy the pine its thousand years. So every morning splendidly it blooms, waits for the rising sun and dies. Thus it fulfils its destiny. How can we despise this truth the flower reveals? The pine differs not, but we learn the lesson best from the short-lived flower. The pine's heart is not of a thousand years nor the morning-glory's of an hour, but only that they may fulfil their destiny.

The glory of the thousand years, the evanescence of the single hour are not in pine or flower but in our thought. So is it with unfeeling things, but man has feeling and is the head of all. Yet is he deceived by things and does not attain to this unless he knows the "Way." To know the "Way" is not the mystic contemplation of which Buddhism speaks. The "Way" is so adjusted to all things that even miserable men and women may know and do it. And only as we truly know it can we truly do it. Otherwise even with practice we do not know, and even in doing it we find no profit. Though we are in the "Way" until death we do not understand. Truly to know and act is to be like fish in water and bird in forest.

Reason should be our life. Never should we separate from it. While we live we obey, and "Way" and body together come to death. Long shall we be at peace. To live a day is to obey a day, and then to die: to live a year is to obey a year and then to die. If thus in the morning we hear and die at night there is no regret. So the morning-glory lives a day, blooms wholly as it had received, and without resentment dies. How greatly differ the thousand years of the pine in length, yet both fulfil their destiny and both are equally content. Thus, "The morning-glory of an hour, Differs not in heart from the pine of a thousand years." As Matsunaga shows his aspirations in his verse so I in imitation: "By the truth received from Heaven and Earth, The morning-glory blooms and fades."

"Regret not what you see: Decay and bloom alike are morning-glory's truth."

"Hurting not, lusting not, This is the morning-glory's heart, Not different from the pine's."

The verses are wretched as you see. But never mind their form, take their truth.

The Eyelash Mystery

Said the students; — When we read we see only the surface and do not know how to apply the lesson to the world, but you find profound reason in everything. We do not understand that which is close at hand, it is as secret as the eyelashes.

And the Old Man replied; — Confucius said of the common words of Shun, "They show his wisdom": the Sage does not neglect the speech of the vulgar. "A boy thus sang: — When the river is clear I wash the strings of my cap; when it is muddy I wash my feet." And its meaning is, the Sage is not stopped but moves with the current of the world. Confucius commented thus, — "Because the water is clear he washes the strings of his cap, because it is muddy he washes his feet; so the washing is not of man's goodness or evil but the water by its clearness or muddiness brings it on itself. Consider!"[15] So are praise and shame, misery and blessedness all of self and not of others. Blame not men but heed thyself! Hear not unthinkingly even a common verse.

When young I met an old philosopher in Kyōto who told me stories of the past, and among them this of Ieyasu. He once said to his followers; — "Would you avoid misfortune? Here is advice for you in five syllables or in seven. Which will you have?" "Give us both," they said; and he went on: — "In five, — Do not look above, (ne wo mi na); and in seven, — Know thy own capacity (mi no hodo wo shire). Forget them not."

But men look above and know not themselves. Extravagant, proud, fond of adornment, they crumble their property and invite misfortune. A great daimyō had a karō whose income was ten thousand koku and on a certain day he went to the castle wearing a cotton robe dyed red. Getting wet en route he hung his robe in the sun to dry. The daimyō returning from the chase saw the robe and said, "Red fades in the sun, take it inside." But in the house of another great noble was an officer who gave ten gold ryō for the ornaments of his armour and remarked: "Weapons of war are most precious and from this expenditure my son and grandson will know my meaning." A third daimyō was thought especially wise. The son of his karō was fond of medicine cases and wore one, three coral heads ornamenting the string. His lord remarked to him: — "I see you are fond of medicine cases; here is one that preserves the strength of the medicine for ever. Wear it," and gave him one whose beads were nuts. So all the officials renounced extravagance.

All this was sixty or seventy years ago but now everywhere is extravagance. We may well spend money on our weapons but luxury must be reproved. In the Ōsaka war great nobles and knights had only the simplest weapons and armour, while their houses and possessions were ruder still. Extravagance unrepressed destroys the empire. Its origin is selfishness, looking above and not knowing self. This is what Ieyasu meant. This disease, extravagance, is not merely individual and personal. It affects high and low. It leads generals to overestimate their own powers and despise their adversaries. So they lose the empire and themselves, like Nobunaga and many another in China and Japan. But Ieyasu did not become extravagant. He knew himself. Success did not make him proud, and so at last he ruled the empire. His syllables five and seven have profound meaning everywhere.

Benevolence the Life of the Soul

One day, after study was ended, the talk was of benevolence and righteousness, and one of the company remarked: The heart of Heaven and Earth becomes man's heart. Heaven's heart is to produce all things, and as this becomes the heart of man, love to his fellows will be the virtue of his heart. So is it that benevolence, the principle of love, is the virtue of the heart. And with this virtue are all the others, for they are included in it and come from it. This have I learned from you. Benevolence means the heart which loves mankind and is chief of the virtues. Many teachers give the chief place to compassion, and if enough meaning is read into it we may agree; but this teaching that benevolence is the virtue of the heart is not that ordinary shallow commonplace. Why is it that righteousness, propriety and truth are destroyed when there is no benevolence, even though compassion be made the virtue of the heart? Talk to us awhile of this. And the Old Man replied:

I agree with you and have nothing new to say, but still I will speak a little in detail. Benevolence in the heart is like the vital spirits in the body, and as these are shown in the pulse so is benevolence shown in love. When the pulse ceases to beat man dies, and when the law of love is lost the heart is destroyed. Thus is benevolence the life of the heart. It lives with benevolence and pity. Naturally when we see our parents we love them, and naturally we reverence superiors; naturally we are humble in the presence of old age; naturally we respond to the story of righteousness and are ashamed as we hear of evil. But if there is no sympathy or pity the heart is hard like demon, or beast, or wood, or stone, and we have no feeling. How then shall we love or reverence, respond to righteousness or be ashamed at wrong?[16]

Thus are benevolence, righteousness, propriety and wisdom all of the virtue of the heart. They are separate laws and yet all of this one origin, benevolence. Without it men may have indeed a virtuous appearance and activity, but they come not from the heart and are not true virtue or true law. For benevolence is the essence of virtue and the law of love.

Bravery even comes from benevolence and is of the pitying heart. War seems a violent "way," taking and killing, and compared with benevolence like black compared with white. Yet only when benevolence is its foundation is the warrior's bravery true courage. Only as chivalry, and letters too, and all spring from the heart and combine with benevolence are they true. With such a heart, even if we purpose not to aid our neighbors, still aid them we must and shall.

Righteousness the Edge of the Heart

Another of those present spoke: — We now fully understand that benevolence is the virtue of the heart, the law of love, and that in its perfection all virtues are included. But righteousness is singled out and put with it. Explain, please, this righteousness. So the Old Man replied:

As are the In and Yō in Heaven, so are benevolence and righteousness in man. This is the teaching of the Book of Changes: — "The 'Way' of Heaven is In and Yō; the 'Way' of man is benevolence and righteousness."[17] And in the first figure of the Book of Changes the four seasons are all included in spring.[18] Though the spirit of autumn seems to destroy and kill, yet really it strengthens the power that shall bring forth the verdure of the spring. So is it with man's "Way." The four virtues are all in benevolence but not indiscriminately, for without the rule of righteousness the living "Way" of the heart is hurt and benevolence is destroyed.

As I once said to a beginner: Righteousness is the "edge" of the heart. Shushi called it the "ruler" of the heart. Usually, with action, coming and going, taking and giving, the heart is filled up and cannot be just. Such a heart, stuck fast, even when learned, cannot be wise. It is without repentance and makes no rapid advance in virtue. So our action depends upon the "edge" of the heart. Thus did Confucius speak of the superior man: "Righteousness is his nature."[19] And he thus explains a passage in the Book of Changes: "He purifies his heart with reverence and his conduct with righteousness."[20] And again, he separates the man of true distinction from the man of mere notoriety thus: "His nature is honest and he loves righteousness."[21]

Our lusts hurt the heart and are the enemies of benevolence and righteousness. Even those who are benevolent and know pity, whose nature is tender, become hard and lose their communion with Heaven when they are led by evil wisdom and by external things. Lusts daily increase like the insects which devour trees, and when the vital spirit dies the great tree is dead. As the edge of the heart is dulled, alas! righteousness disappears. Rust makes valueless the best cutting sword as the edge is dulled. So is it that the Confucian philosophy magnifies benevolence and teaches that self-conquest is essential to its attainment.

When Gankai asked Confucius about benevolence, the Sage replied: "Conquer self and return to propriety."[22] Propriety is the adornment of Heaven and Earth, man's rule for self-examination and instrument for victory over self. Gankai sought the method of self-government. Men who know not this cannot conquer self, though they strive strenuously. So it is that the Great Learning put knowledge of the truth before the reformation of the heart.[23] Though we know that the "Way" is benevolence and righteousness, yet we cannot attain perfection if we neglect propriety and knowledge. Thus does the Book of Changes speak of the virtue of the sage: "Knowledge is high, propriety is low; the height of the knowledge is Heaven, the lowliness of the propriety is Earth."[24] As the high increases so does the low improve. This is the "Way," complete doing at first and complete doing at last. This has been philosophy's great law from Confucius until now.

The Broad Spirit

When studying penmanship I read the sentence of Imagawa, "If one of the four virtues is lost, the 'Way' cannot be fulfilled." Imagawa was not a great philosopher, but this saying is truly great. I well remember it yet. All four are important, yet is righteousness next to benevolence, as we may learn from Mencius' teaching of the Broad Spirit, "Very great, very strong, filling Heaven and Earth!"[25] Consider how so great a thing can come from righteousness. Endowed with the living spirit of Heaven and Earth man is naturally a broad being, but lusts dull the "edge" of the heart and the spirit grows small. So the broad spirit is from the "edge" of the heart. Without it, as the proverb says, "with one bound of an ox," we are wholly given up to self. Nor are we to be righteous all at once. Mencius says: "It is by the accumulation of righteousness." The broad spirit does not give forth its power at once, with one thing or at one time, but day by day using the "edge" of the heart in accord with reason in all things great and small, important and unimportant, without any doubt, as with a sword you cut in two, deciding thus it fits well, this is the "Way," so is the broad spirit produced. Thus ceaselessly, this spirit continuing, ever it grows strong and at last the spirit so aids the "edge" of the heart that it unites with righteousness and the spirit is naturally very broad.

So when in cold weather two men at daybreak are about to rise, the sake drinker does not hesitate while the abstainer shivers with the cold. For the spirit of the liquor aids his "edge" of the heart. But the broad spirit comes from righteousness and yet helps the righteousness, a thing most wonderful!

Last year I read in the Kam-bun-sho[26] of a dragon. The dragon is a thing most wonderful and Divine; and this one made a cloud with its breath and then rode thereon up to the moon and down to the depths. The dragon formed the cloud which aided it in its flight! But not unreasonably are we to use the spirit strength to make the weak strong, or we shall be like the men of So who pulled up the rice that they might help it to grow long! That is to injure the "Way" and prevent the accumulation of righteousness. It should be accumulated without definite purpose, yet constantly as day or night a man forgets not his important business. Neither forgotten nor unreasonably accumulated, this is this "edge" of the heart. As the philosophers have said, "Hold with reverence." Not too careful, or greater harm comes than from forgetting to have a care. "Like holding an egg in the hand," not forgetting or down it goes; not too tight or it is crushed.

Not too careless and not too careful. The heart is wonderful and Divine. Empty and idle it cannot be. It must have intercourse with men and act, or in its idleness useless things come forth, it considers things without root or dependence and is confused like hemp. Long ago in Kaga a samurai asked me of this control of the heart and I said to him: — The heart is like a horse of spirit and "reverence" is that which rides it. If the spirit is weak so are seat and hands, away the horse runs and we are thrown. This is the "forgetting." If we hold too strongly the mouth hurts and the horse cannot go. This is to "nourish unreasonably." Not only is he unable to go: his evil spirit is aroused, he balks and rears and is no benefit but an injury. Not too loose nor too tight, but carefully in the mean, then fast and slow he comes and goes freely obedient to my desire.

So wrote I forty years since. Those to whom I wrote are now of the long ago.

Deeply moved was the old man as he spake these words.

The People, the Heaven of the King

Once at the end of his exposition of the tenth book of the Analects, "He bowed to those who bore the tables of the census," the Old Man asked his guests: What is the meaning of the phrase, "The people are the Heaven of the king and food is the Heaven of the People"?

The people, replied one, are the foundation of the State; when they are obedient the State remains, but when they rebel it is destroyed. As its preservation and destruction are of the people the king must honour them as Heaven. And the people honour their food as Heaven, for it is their life and without it they die.

You have explained correctly the meanings, continued the Old Man, as both honouring agriculture. When Heaven begets men it brings forth grain for their food. If there are men there is grain and if there is grain there are men; if there is no grain there are no men. Nothing excels food. The farmers produce it and are entrusted by Heaven to the king who must honour them as he honours Heaven itself. Not one farmer may be abused. For this reason the census was received of old with honour by the king, and Confucius bowed when he met those who bore it. The people are to remember that they are entrusted with the production of this precious gift of Heaven and are to honour it as Heaven itself. They must not be idle, for their industry determines the land's prosperity.

In the days of the Sage kings all this was heeded. Taxes were light and when the crops failed there was such aid that the people were not scattered abroad. They lived at home without anxiety and gave their produce to the king and no one failed to make "food to be as Heaven." Gradually their manners became the fashion with the officials and the city folk, and all were frugal and none lazy or luxurious. But later, in the time of the Shin dynasty,[27] the heart which made the people to be Heaven grew less, and cruel taxes were imposed until at last there was separation and rebellion. All was confusion and disintegration and the mob originated. Again from the time of the Kan dynasty,[27] though there was peace and safety, yet many were intent on gain and the great merchants lived like princes and in imitation the country folk too fell into extravagance and competed in costly amusements. Kagi[28] complained to the government, and as something of the heart that makes "the people Heaven" still remained, the Emperor repeatedly proclaimed that agriculture is the foundation of the empire, remitted the taxes and reproved the local officials. He exhorted to filial obedience, brotherly respect and industry. So in the time of Bun-Kei[29] lord and servant were frugal and the land grew rich. It was the best period after the times of the Sage kings.[30] So our study shows that when the fashions of the country extend to the capital it is well, and when the capital influenced the country it is ill, for in the country is simplicity and in the capital extravagance.

Nowadays, so far as I hear, avaricious officials are many, and in the country too many who are outwardly obedient to the law amass wealth, are pleasure-loving, hide their faults, deceive the Government, injure their fellows and count all this shrewdness. At their feasts they eat only delicacies, gather women for song and dance, and spend immense sums in a day. They think it æsthetic; and when they see a man who is frugal and honest they ridicule him as "rustic" and unaccustomed to the ways of the world. As an individual can do nothing against the multitude, these fashions become universal and even the remote regions are extravagant and false. Alas! all the world praises extravagance and all the world desires money without which these lusts cannot be gratified. So those who are strong seize the wealth of the empire and its circulation is stopped. Gold and silver are scarce. But food grows every year, so it is cheap and money is dear. The samurai who are paid in grain must exchange cheap grain for dear cash and have not enough, while those who have money buy cheap grain with dear coin and increase their goods. But with limited coin their extravagance is unlimited and useful money goes for useless things. Money is less and less in quantity day by day and does not circulate. Rice grows ever cheaper, yet the poor country folk cannot buy it. The rich feast daily but the starving[31] are ever at their side. The bad become robbers to save their lives. From extravagance comes poverty and from poverty theft.

This has not come about in a day. Until sixty or seventy years ago there was prosperity. Some were extravagant but the majority were frugal, for many old men of the former age still lived, men who had endured hardship as soldiers and had known no luxury even in their dreams. But their descendants, trained in their houses, think frugality rustic. The elders were without outer adornments but their inner qualities were great. They loved labour and were loyal and sympathetic. But after their time the samurai with their hereditary pensions knew nothing of hardship in the times of peace. They desire drink and pleasure and know not its poison. Extravagant and vain and profligate, no wonder we are in such condition. Still worse are the money-getters and the givers of great entertainments. And the evil goes into the provinces. There remains even now something of the ancient customs, differing from the great towns. But the people are foolish and profligate, and some commit great crimes. Foolish and angry in their misery, some even rise against the Government. Still they are not cheats like the townfolk. They are naturally honest, simple, easily moved by blessings, quick to follow reason and satisfied with their daily food. When the officials remember the heart which makes the people Heaven, and modify the taxes according to circumstances and so treat the people that they may nourish parents and children without fear of death from cold and hunger, then the people are in peace. When the laws are made known showing the punishments for crime, forbidding extravagance, reproving the idle and dissolute, then the people admire and obey. As they become good their virtue passes to the towns. The townfolk are not the tenth of the countrymen; yet town fashions permeate the provinces. Were the countrymen content and prosperous, still more readily then would their fashions go throughout the empire conquering extravagance and evil. Without doubt extravagance would give way gradually to frugality.

The Skirt of Fuji

Of old it was said: "When the people are discontented they think of insurrection," so important is their peace to the empire. In the days of Ieyasu a certain samurai who loved philosophy was sent on a tour of inspection. Before starting he asked his teacher for advice and was told, "You will travel around the skirt of Fuji, study the plain on which it stands. Such a mountain can stand only on so great a plain. Mountains stand secure because they spread wide out their base. With top big and base small, over they would fall. Would you now serve the Government? Care for the people. I have no advice to give but this." This is the meaning of that figure of a mountain standing on the earth in the Book of Changes.[32] The mountain rears itself on high but the base clings to the earth. The earth is its source. So are rulers to make the top small and the base great. Then is the empire at peace, like the mountain. But if the top is increased and the base diminished there is danger; it is a mountain upside down.

This is my thought: — In the towns are many evil men who set fire to houses and work mischief. For the greater part they are wanderers from the country who have come aimlessly to town because of the misery in the provinces. Should they return they would find no occupation and no place for their bodies. So their only resource is to rob and steal. Were the provinces unoppressed and the family relationship maintained, men would come to town only in exceptional circumstances. Should they find no work in town they would go home again. Had they friends they would not throw away their lives by committing crimes sure to be punished. Even the outcasts would go to their friends for aid. But now the provinces are in distress and all gather in the towns. And useless extravagance leads the fashion. The nobles, high officials and the rich put crowds of these fellows in livery. They gather in the long houses to drink and game. They drink until drunk, and by their carelessness the house catches fire and burns. The worst of them steal their master's money and fire the house to hide their misdeeds. The carelessness of the master permits such evils, but the real cause is the evil love of luxury. Stop the extravagant customs of the town and the provinces will prosper.

The Empire's Treasure

But ever with a century of peace comes extravagance. That it may be replaced by frugality, honest and economical samurai must be given office. Mere laws and the machinery of government will not avail. So it is said: "Teach by example and they follow; by words and they accuse." When the great officers are righteous the mass of officials naturally follow with reverence and fear. When the great officers teach with words the subordinates quarrel and disobey. Though laws be many and increase yet is control difficult. The real and final fault is the unfitness of the officials for their places. Laws are necessary, but their efficiency is according to the men who enforce them. As Confucius said, "Government is by the man. With him it is complete; when he is destroyed it ceases."

The changes of man's heart are not according to a fixed system, but evil and good, falsehood and truth, are confused together. So the plausible excuses of Shokufu, though he seemed to make out his case, were not accepted by Chosekishi;[33] and the efficient general was not dismissed when he was accused of stealing eggs;[34] the seeming frugality of Kosonko in wearing a cotton robe was really evil extravagance, while the seeming extravagance of Kakushige[35] in the end was not to be reproved as wrong. We cannot govern a multitude of changing beings by unchanging laws. That is like playing a koto with its bridge made fast, like marking the side of the boat that we may find again the sword lost overboard. Not thus are changing conditions suitably met.

Find the proper man and entrust the laws to him. Let him assert or modify, advance or retreat, using the laws according to the times, using them as not immovably bound by them. He should skillfully roll them along and not be rolled along by them. When all is entrusted to officials such as these, the Government is not obstructed, the laws are enforced, the people obey and there is continual peace. Jewels are not the treasure of the empire but wise men.

Reverently would I speak my admiration of the great Ieyasu.[36] Once when an office was vacant he said to his minister (karō): "I shall give the office to so and so. What is his character?" But the karō replied, "I do not know. He does not come to my house." Ieyasu changed colour and replied, "I am to be blamed if unreasonably I ask your opinion of the character of each one of my many men-at-arms and if it is not your duty to know. But so and so has rank and wealth. He is unknown to no one. What duty have you more important than to know the leading men and give me information when I ask it? Should you reply 'I do not know'? Not know? I erred when I entrusted you with an office of such importance. Consider. The faithful samurai does not go familiarly to the house of his superior. You are to seek out the good men among them and know them that they may not be unemployed. That is your duty to me. When fine swords, daggers and articles for the cha-no-yu are spoken of you seek them that they may be shown to me. But the best of them do not serve the State. They are not essential. But I ever say that man is the 'treasure of treasures.' And you are so inattentive that you can answer me like this? If you know only those who call at your house you will corrupt the samurai. They will think they must flatter the men in power. My samurai, modest and virtuous, are the life-power of the state. If their hearts are soiled and they become shameless and spiritless in every thing, putting up with insults that they may save their lives, they will have no heart to fulfil righteousness. So with the loss of their vitality will the vigour of the State fail. Then the State will readily be overturned and destroyed. Fail not to remember what I say."

So did Ieyasu make wise men his treasure, and their righteousness the life-power of the State. Of all our rulers he stands first. I need not dwell longer on his lecture to the karō. In the Book of Rites provision is made for an officer whose duty shall be the choice of man. But in time the good old way failed and men were chosen only for rank, words, literary skill, and such like empty things. So has it been for generations. And in Japan from the beginning of the Kamakura times[37] lord and karō never thought of advancing men by the test of character. How such men would fear this sharp word of Ieyasu. All fear and follow him, so it is that from his time many men of high character appear who govern well. There is constant progress and all in the empire are at peace. This blessing is all from him. To worship such virtue day and night is not enough.

Custom Is the Field of the Government

Naught else is so essential to the empire as custom. The ruler's authority is like Heaven and his fear is as thunder, who dare disobey? But as the proverb says, "Against the multitude no hand," so against custom is no victory. Mandates and laws effect a temporary reformation, but constantly do they yield and fail long to influence those beneath their sway. They permeate but a little way and are lost in the mass.

Custom is like a field and government like seed. Be the seed never so good, if the field is ill prepared it will not grow. Good laws accomplish nothing unless the customs too are good. First prepare the soil and then sow the seed. First reform customs if we desire good government. And the source of customs is the ruler himself. Let him govern himself and thus inspire those who are below. This is the unchanging law. If he govern not himself there is no model for the people.

When good or evil has hardened into custom there can be no immediate change. To go over to the bad is easy, but to become good is difficult. If reform is purposed, tie fast custom that there be no drift into evil. The ruler cannot accomplish it alone, but all the officials, small and great, must perceive his purpose, govern themselves and be examples to the people. Nowadays all know the frugality of the Shōgun, yet the extravagance of the lower orders ceases not. Such worthless men as I ever celebrate the virtues of the Shōgun, still more should all the high officials approve him. Doubtless they are not all slothful and yet cannot at once reform the customs which have long been decayed.

In the period Manji-Kwambun (1658-1672) quails were the fashion, and men of wealth competed for them and they became very costly. Abe Bungo no Kami, Tada-aki, fancied them and kept a cage ever by his side. A daimyō knew his fancy and buying one of highest price sent it to Abe by his physician. So the physician took it and said, "Be so kind as to accept it." But Abe merely replied, "I'll consider it." Then in a moment he called his servant and told him to turn the doors of the cages to the garden and open them. Out flew all the quails, to the surprise of the physician, who said, "Have they been so long with you that they will come back again?" "No," was the reply; "I have let them go. By the will of the Shōgun I have been promoted and should have no fancies. Unthinkingly I became fond of quails and now men bring them as presents. I'll care for them no more." That answer made the physician ashamed. It is difficult to give up one's fancy and there is no objection to the acceptance of gifts. But Abe forgot not the people of his master. Trifles become the fashion, influence one's own rule and must be carefully guarded. And the other officials of the time were also pure and free from extravagance; nor were they proud of their power. And as their customs influenced those below them, the people too became pure and honest.

So does custom generally pass from rulers to the people, but the opposite is sometimes true. When the source is pure the stream is clear, and when the source is impure so is the stream. But if mud heaps up at the mouth it dams the stream, and the impurity ascends even to the source. So nowadays the sons of wealthy merchants in company with samurai and officials, with rascals and dissolute townfolk, make brothels their home by day and night, and waste their time in play and drink. The custom penetrates higher circles, and even nobles and high officials go secretly to brothels and samurai are eager to be leaders in debauchery. This is the influence of the low upon the high. To amend it only good men should be made high officials and thus will the stream be purified at its source. Then next, the dissolute among the people should be searched out and put under arrest that the mud may be removed from the mouth.

And there are other evils. The common folk are far from the tribunals. They have the right to enter protest against wrongs but, ignorant of the ceremonies and without learned words, they cannot go to the fine office and minutely state their case. The minor officials do not wish to listen, are proud of their authority and ready with severe reproof for the smallest error, even of a word. So people dread the trouble, even when their cause is clearly just. And with only one court the cases heap up like mountains, as petitions come in from the four quarters. The smallest affair takes days, the neighbors are repeatedly summoned as witnesses, until the whole village is involved and hates the whole affair. The expense is great, and so, for the most part, wrongs are the rather borne in silence. Robbers and sins will never be diminished in this fashion.

The distance of the court and the difficulty of the procedure are the source of the trouble. Small courts should be set up everywhere with good men in authority. They should be connected with the higher courts. The system of grouping five or ten houses together with mutual responsibility should be made more strict. Then bad men may be accused even though they do not actually violate the laws. They can be examined at once and released if their offence is trifling and sent to prison if it is great. All should be written out and sent with the prisoner to the central tribunal there to be judged. So there will still be communication with the Government in everything though it go not to the central tribunal first. As the smaller courts can decide at once there will be no delay. As the guilty cannot be hidden they will fear public opinion. They will not be influenced at once but still will naturally reform. But customs cannot be reformed while the tribunal prefers to be idle, and while it cares only when the laws are broken.

In my opinion the reform of evil customs, while a way roundabout and slow, is the only efficient method. It is evil customs that obstruct the Government and destroy the virtue of the samurai.

Notes

[1] In the war between Hideyoshi and Ieyasu.

[2] The Yi King, Appendix III, Sec. I, Chap. V, 29.

[3] The Yi King, Appendix III, Sec. II, Chap. I, 10.

[4] Mencius, Book II, Pt. I, Chap. II, 15.

[5] Analects, III, 13.

[6] Book of Poetry, Part II, Book IV, Ode VIII, 3, "A lamentation over the miseries of the kingdom." These lines are "illustrative of the uncertainty of the writer's position in the future." Legge.

[7] Of Gan-kai Confucius said, "Unfortunately his appointed time was short," Analects (VI, II); and, when he died, — "Heaven is destroying me! Heaven is destroying me!" (XI, VIII) and again, — "If I am not to mourn bitterly for this man for whom should I mourn?" (XI, IX), Legge's translation. Toseki had nine thousand followers and was eating a man's liver when visited by Confucius. The latter remonstrated with the robber, but was worsted in the encounter, at least according to "The Divine Classic of Nan-Hua" by Chuang Tsze, translated by Balfour, section "Che the Robber."

[8] Analects, Book VII, XV.

[9] See above, "The Blind of Heart," Book I.

[10] In Suikō's reign, A.D. 593-628, Buddhism was openly adopted by the court in Japan. In the reign of Mei (Ming Ti), A.D. 58-76, it received the imperial sanction in China.

[11] Man's true nature is "law," the eternal "reason" within him. And as "law" is the ideal benevolence and righteousness, these too are man's nature. It is therefore "good." But only when this truth is comprehended and obeyed does man "attain." Kyusō had not yet attained; he could say naught else, for so does Confucius speak of himself. Analects VII, XXXII, XXXIII.

[12] Matsunaga, an unknown author.

[13] Hakkyoi, a famous poet of the Tō (Tang) dynasty.

[14] Analects IV, VIII.

[15] Mencius, Book IV, Pt. I, Chap. VIII, 2-3.

[16] Our word benevolence by no means precisely represents the Chinese word "jin." Faber translates "humanity" and gives an excellent description of the virtue, "Doctrines of Confucius," pp. 71-75. But though "jin" is the characteristic virtue of man, and his nature, yet as characteristic too of the heart of Heaven and Earth, humanity is a term at once too narrow and too broad. As St. Paul, in 1st Cor. XIII, sums up all the Christian virtues in the word love, so does "jin" comprise all the Confucian excellences. It is certainly noticeable that the words should so resemble each other, and when benevolence and righteousness are set forth as the very essence of Heaven and Earth we readily exaggerate the likeness of doctrine. But though this Chinese philosophy has no place for a personal God, yet these virtues are reflected in the operations of impersonal nature, its fertility and its regularity.

[17] Book of Changes, Appendix V, Chap. II, 4.

[18] Book of Changes, Appendix I, 1.

[19] Analects XV, 17.

[20] Book of Changes, Appendix IV, Sec. II, Chap. II, 6.

[21] Analects XII, 20.

[22] Analects XII, 1.

[23] The Great Learning, 4-5.

[24] Appendix III, Sec. I, Chap. VII, 36.

[25] Mencius, Book II, Pt. I, Chap. II, 11-16.

[26] The writings of Kantaishi; see above, Book I.

[27] The Shin (Ts'in) dynasty reigned B.C. 255-209 and was followed by the Kan (Han) dynasty.

[28] A celebrated scholar of the Han dynasty who introduced various reforms. Mayers, p. 78.

[29] Bun and Kei were emperors of the Han dynasty and reigned in succession, B.C. 179-140.

[30] All good was in its perfection in the days of the Sage kings Gyō and Shun. But unfortunately, we know nothing of them or of their times historically. The golden age was already a thousand years in the past when authentic history began in China, the 12th century B.C.

[31] The starving.

[32] Book of Changes, Appendix II, Hex. XXIII.

[33] A councillor of Han Wen Ti, B.C. 179.

[34] Suin of Wei, accused of stealing two eggs when a boy. Retained "since no one is perfect." Chinese Repository, Feb. 1851, p. 103.

[35] D. 122 B.C. He had been a swineherd and became a minister. Mayers, p. 90. He used all of his own property for others. Kosonko affected economy that he might increase his popularity.

[36] Ieyasu is always referred to by his posthumous title, Tō-shō-gū, but the translator has retained his well known name.

[37] The beginning of the Kamakura times was toward the end of the twelfth century, when it was founded by Yoritomo.

Book III — Propriety

The Empire, the Empire of the Empire

When spring was giving way to summer and the days grew long, the leaves of the trees forming bowers more beautiful even than the flowers of spring, the Old Man spread his books beneath the window, read history and reflected profoundly. His friends came to spend the day with him, reading and talking. In some connection, I have forgotten what, some one said, "We cannot forget the former kings."[1] And the Old Man remarked: —

The empire is peace. Men of rank and virtue may treat their parents as is becoming parents and their virtue as becomes virtue; and the common folk too may find pleasure in their pleasure, profit in their profit, and leisure in their leisure. Thus our years pass away. It is all the blessing of peace. Since Ieyasu, his hair brushed by the wind, his body anointed with the rain, with lifelong labour caused confusion to cease and order to prevail, for more than an hundred years there has been no war. The waves of the four seas have been unruffled and no one has failed of the blessings of peace. We common folk must speak with reverence, yet is it the duty of scholars to celebrate the virtue of the Government. Not standing too much on ceremony, I have been thinking much of late of one detail in so great a mass of virtue and would proclaim it to all, as now to you.

It is written, "Let the lord of the empire forget not that the empire is the empire of the empire, and not of one man."[2] Famous is that saying, and irrevocable for a thousand years! In China, excepting the Sage kings, most of the emperors who quieted confusion took the empire to be their own, and not the empire of the empire. When one of the emperors[3] at the beginning of his reign heard that his most famous general was ill at the war, he recalled him in haste and vainly sought his cure by the aid of physicians. Then at last the emperor prayed to mountain, river, Heaven, "Spare his life a few years, and take mine with his!" He would not that he should survive his general, and so he swore by his own life. I am deeply moved as I read this incident. Of such a ruler it is said, "An emperor in truth."[4] But those who long rule naturally come to think the empire given for one's own pleasure. They hold the empire fast lest some one take it from them, as a child holds fast its favourite toy. With such a heart, even though the empire is taken, it cannot long be held, as Nobunaga and Hideyoshi[5] illustrate. They had no benevolence and the loss of the empire was of course. They were not fit to hold it. As men of old further said, "Treasure hides deep in the mountain: the man finds it who seeks it not."

In the year A.D. 1586, after the battle at Nagakute, Ieyasu made peace with Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Hideyoshi sent a messenger to Hamamatsu in Enshu and invited Ieyasu to Ōsaka. But he refused to go, though repeated messengers came with urgent invitations. At last Hideyoshi sent his mother as hostage and thus urged consent. Then Ieyasu agreed to go. But his followers feared treachery and sought to dissuade him; — "If you do not go it is true that Hideyoshi may renew the war, but your forces are the stronger and we are ready to throw away our lives. He cannot win though he bring an hundred times ten thousand men." But Ieyasu replied: — "It is as you say, and I do not accept his invitation because I fear him. But think how constant has been the war for generations without peace in capital or provinces until now. At last we have peace. Should I fight Hideyoshi, war begins again to the misery of the empire. If I meet evil, for the empire I shall die."[6] With profound admiration all heard these words and could urge nothing more. He well knew his danger, and when he started for Ōsaka entrusted his affairs to his ministers Ii and Honda. Such words of truth affect both men and Heaven; and as Heaven's decree was in accord with the hearts of men he took possession of the empire. As the Chinese emperor prayed by his own life for the life of his general, so did Ieyasu pray by his life for the peace of the empire. There was the same broad spirit in them both, not attached to treasures but to righteousness; yet did Ieyasu exceed the other.

Once when in a friend's house our host related this story of Ieyasu, and guests and host were affected to tears. Strategists and schemers may think it a plan for attaching men to self, and it may so seem to those who ever study from a false point of view. That cannot be helped. It is not told for the sake of such.

Remonstrance More Difficult than the Foremost Spear

But ever in China and Japan alike most men when in power have thought the empire the empire of one man. They have been extravagant and have laboured for fame. But Ieyasu served the empire, not thinking it his own nor desirous of luxury. He made his rule strong and bequeathed it to future generations; his glory remains and the empire rests in peace.

After his great victory at Seki-ga-hara[7] some of his followers said to him, — "The empire is yours, gather treasures that your name may last. Hideyoshi built Dai Butsu."[8] But Ieyasu replied, — "So, Hideyoshi will be remembered by his Dai Butsu, but I care nothing for the transmission of my single name. I shall study the interests of the empire and leave it to my heir, that is far beyond building many a Dai Butsu." Doubtless their proposal seemed foolish to him. To conquer Korea, erect Dai Butsu and spend vast treasures is to injure the empire, though it be wonderful in the eyes and ears of fools. Already thoughtful men condemn and the name remains to future time disgraced. But the Nikkō shrines are reverenced in all the provinces. Do you not understand? This is the true illustrious undecaying name ever to be admired.

Ieyasu excelled all, but was not vain of his wisdom. On the contrary he approved the honest remonstrance of his inferiors. And indeed remonstrance may be put as the foundation of the wisdom of the ruler. Only the Sage does not err. If a man listen to reproof, though he err he is like a sick man who takes medicine and regains his strength. But however wise a man may be, if he will not listen to remonstrance he is like one who will take no medicine because his illness is slight and so the danger remains. But most strong rulers hate reproof and insist upon their own way. In China is the office of censor, but it is of little use. It is only a name, for honest men are readily removed and flatterers given office. When there is error there is no reform, nor remonstrance when the Government is bad, a grief that lasts from ancient days until now. It is still worse in Japan with its feudal government; the rulers govern by force of arms and inferiors must obey. Remonstrance ceases and sympathy with the people ends. Daily the evil grows, but those who know its cause are few.

Ieyasu was born in the midst of war and turmoil. He was sympathetic to inferiors and ever opened the way of words. Most admirable of men! Once in his castle, Honda Sado no Kami was present with some others. At the end of their business all withdrew save Honda and one other. The latter presented a writing to Ieyasu, who took it, asking, "What is this?" "Matters I have thought of much," was the reply, "and venture respectfully to suggest, thinking possibly one in ten thousand may be of use." "Thanks," said Ieyasu; "read it. There is no reason why Honda should not hear." So he began, and Ieyasu assented to each of the many particulars and finally took the paper saying, "Always be free to say what you think necessary." Afterwards when Honda only remained he said, "It was rudely done, and not a suggestion of value in it all." But Ieyasu waved his hand dissentingly. "Though it is not of great value still he had thought it over carefully and wrote it in secret for my eye. His spirit should be praised. If he suggests anything of value I'll adopt it; if not, I'll let it alone. We should not call such remonstrance rude. Men do not know their own faults, but common folks have friends who reprove and criticise. They have opportunity for reform. This is their advantage. But rulers have no friends, but constantly meet with their inferiors who assent respectfully to every word. So they cannot know and reform, to their great loss. They lose their power and destroy their house because no one will remonstrate, and all they do is approved as right. Most essential is it that they be told their faults."

Honda remembered this and told it to his son weeping, as he spoke of the Shōgun's deep heart and broad humanity. And when the young man asked the name of the man and the purport of his paper, thinking to ridicule him, Honda reproved him sharply: "What have you to do with the man and his suggestions? Think of your lord's fine spirit!"

Afterwards, said Ieyasu to his samurai: — "A ruler must have faithful ministers. He who sees the error of his lord and remonstrates, not fearing his wrath, is braver than he who bears the foremost spear in battle. In the fight body and life are risked, but it is not certain death. Even if killed there is deathless fame and his lord laments. If there is victory great reward and glory are won and the inheritance goes down to son and grandson. But to grieve over his lord's faults and faithfully remonstrate when the words do not pass the ears and touch the heart is hard indeed. Disliked, distantly received, displaced by flatterers, his advice not taken, however loyal he may be at last he gives up the task, professes illness or retires into the quiet of old age. If he dares to risk his lord's displeasure in his faithfulness he may be imprisoned or even killed. He who fears not all this, but gives up even life to benefit his country, is highly to be praised. Compared with him the foremost spear is an easy post." To all ages should these words be repeated as a command.

Sugita Iki

So then the foremost place in the battle seems a place of difficulty but is not, and to remonstrate with one's lord seems easy, but is not. Lord and servant praise the foremost spear but I do not hear them praising him who loyally reproves. They should remember these words of Ieyasu.

In Kwan-ri Kan-ei (1624-1643) the former lord of Echizen, Io no Kami, had a karō named Sugita Iki. He had risen from the ranks by his merits. It was his business to provide the funds for his lord's very expensive attendance in Edo. Not fearing his lord's wrath he was ever ready to reprove. And once it happened when Io no Kami was in Echizen that he went hawking, and on his return his karō all went forth to meet him. He was unusually happy and said, "The young men have never done better. If they always work as well they are certain of employment by the Shōgun in case of war. Rejoice with me!" So all congratulated him except Sugita alone. He said nothing, remaining at the foot of the line. Io no Kami waited a while wonderingly, and then said, "What do you think?" And Sugita replied, "With due respect yet are your remarks a cause for grief. When the samurai went with you their thought was this, — if we do not please him he may kill us; and they took final farewell of wife and child. So I have heard. If they thus hate their lord they will be useless in battle. Unless you know this it is foolish to rely on them."

Io no Kami scowled, and his sword bearer said to Sugita, "Go, please!" But Sugita scowled at him and said, "My task is not to go hawking with him and surround monkey or wild boar! Do not tell me what is of use!" So he cast aside his short sword, went to Io's side and said: "Kill me! It is far better than to live in vain and see your downfall! I shall count it as a sign of your favour!" So he folded his hands and stretched out his neck to the blow. Io went to his apartment without a word. And the other karō said to Sugita: "What you say is true, but have a regard to the proper season. It was ill to mar the pleasure of his return." But Sugita replied: — "There is never a proper season for remonstrance. I thought it fitting to-day. I have risen from the ranks and doubtless look at things differently from you. My death is of no consequence." All listened with admiration.

Sugita went home and prepared himself for hara kiri, awaiting his lord's word. His wife had been with him from the time he was in the ranks, and to her he said: "I have a word to leave with you. A woman cannot be directly honoured by our lord, but as he has honoured me you have shared in it. You are no longer the wife of a foot soldier but of a karō. You have many servants. It is an infinite blessing he has conferred on you, is it not? After I am dead, remember this great blessing morning and evening and feel no hatred to your lord. If in your grief you hate him in the least and it appear in words, in the depths of Hades I shall know it and be displeased." In constant expectation he waited until late at night when there came a rapping at his door. Some one said: "His lordship has business for you. Come to the castle." "The time has come," Sugita thought, as he obeyed. But Io sent for Sugita to come direct to his bed chamber and said: "I cannot sleep for thoughts of your words to-day. So I have sent for you so late at night. I need not speak of my errors. I am filled with admiration at your straightforward remonstrance." Therewith he handed Sugita a sword as a reward.[9] At this so unexpected an event Sugita wept as he withdrew.

When I was in Kaga an Echizen man told me this. Sugita was such an one as Ieyasu praised. Such a karō has a station more difficult far than the foremost spear.

Ban Daizen

Skillful flatterers are liked and find ready employment, but in matters of importance strong-hearted men are the only resource. I have another story for you, different from Sugita's.

During the winter war at Ōsaka, Katakiri Ichi no Kami, a follower of Ieyasu, was in the castle of Ibaraki in Setsu. Hearing that Shibayama Kohei in the castle at Sakae in Idzumi was in danger, Katakiri determined to send him aid. En route Katakiri's troops were surrounded by their enemies from Ōsaka at Amagaseki; and as those in the Amagaseki castle refused all aid, the troops were every one slain. The lord of Amagaseki was a child and the castle was commanded by generals owing allegiance to Musashi no Kami. Now Musashi no Kami doubted the loyalty of Katakiri to Ieyasu and therefore refused to succor his troops. But all the world believed that Musashi no Kami was secretly friendly to the enemy.

After peace was made Ieyasu examined this matter in the Castle of Nijō in Kyōto. Musashi no Kami was represented by his karō Ban Daizen, a man well known to Ieyasu. Ban Daizen made his representations, but the wrath of Ieyasu ceased not. "You have excuses in abundance," he said, "yet Musashi no Kami allowed his allies to be killed before his eyes. That is his wretched heart!" and he started to leave the room, but Ban Daizen cast aside his short sword, crept to the Shōgun's side and laid hold upon his skirt. He wept and cried, — "Oh! How merciless! Even if not your daughter's son, yet is not Musashi no Kami your grandson?[10] When can I speak if not now?" His sincerity effected his purpose, and the Shōgun said, "Very well! Go back at once and put Musashi no Kami at ease." Ban Daizen made obeisance with folded hands and bowed head, and retired.

The Shōgun said to those who remained, "Daizen's father's name was also Daizen. He was a betto. When Musashi no Kami's father was young and was still called Shozaburō, he was in the battle at Nagakute. When his father and brother were killed he started his horse that he might go and die with them. But Daizen seized the bridle, stopped the horse, turned him about and fled with him. Shozaburō in great anger shouted, "Let go!" and for a quarter of a mile kicked Daizen about the head until the blood flowed from his face like a cataract. But Daizen kept his hold and brought Shozaburō off. Had he been killed his useless death would have ended his family, so the feudal house of Banshu is the work of Daizen. The son is like the father. No one else would do what he has done just now. Musashi no Kami is favoured in having such a servant."

And there is no other like instance. No other man of low rank has thus taken his life in his hand and approached the Shōgun in behalf of the innocence of his lord. And so it was that the Shōgun listened, relented and admired. Truly it was not an ordinary affair! And it illustrates too the great virtue of the Shōgun. He ever restrained his wrath and strengthened the faithfulness of his followers. He did not restrain and curb their courage, and they thought nothing of giving up their lives for his sake. Many wise and skilful nobles and generals have come to grief in the end because they curbed the faithfulness of their followers and depended wholly on themselves. The profound wisdom of Ieyasu is in striking contrast, and it was this that made his bowmen and spearmen the best in the empire.

But men say nowadays, "Tokugawa won because that was his fate and fate is irresistible!" His humanity and virtue were great and naturally he satisfied the decree of Heaven. But this alone does not account for his success. The strength of his troops explains his "fate." He cultivated their faithfulness. It is most essential thus to promote the faithfulness of the common people. How shallow is this talk of his resistless fate!

The Fidelity of the Samurai

In the period Genko-Kemmu (1331-1335) many samurai were faithful unto death. I admire with tears a retainer of Hō-jō Takatoku named Andōzaimon Shoshu, the uncle of Nitta Yoshisada's wife. When Kamakura was taken by Nitta his wife secretly sent a letter to her uncle. He was a general fighting with the Hōjō and against Nitta. His soldiers were killed, himself was wounded and he was retreating when news came that Takatoku had burned his castle and fled to Tōshōji. Andōzaimon asked if many had killed themselves at the burning of the castle and was told "not one." "Shameful," he replied. "There we will die." So with an hundred men he went on to the castle and wept as he beheld the smoking ruins. Just then came the letter from his niece. He opened it and read, — "Since Kamakura is destroyed come to me. I'll obtain your pardon with my life." Very angrily he spoke, "I have been favoured by my lord, as all know. Shall I be so shameless as to follow Yoshisada now! His wife wants to help her uncle; but if Yoshisada knows the duty of a samurai he will put a stop to such attempts. He did not send it or agree to it. But if he did, if he meant to test me, she should not have permitted such an attempt to destroy my name. He and his wife alike are worthy of contempt!" With grief and anger there before the messenger, he wrapped the letter around his sword and slew himself.

Ah, what a man was that! How pure his purpose! Who can excel him?

But in recent years in the period Tenshō (A.D. 1573-1590) a retainer of Takeda Katsuyori named Komiyama Naizen is most to be admired. He was the favourite of his master, until at last they were separated by a quarrel and Naizen was condemned through false witnesses and dismissed from office. When the troops of Oda Nobunaga attacked the province of Kai, Katsuyori was defeated and fled with forty-two followers to Tenmokuzan. When Naizen heard of the disaster he wished to help and met Katsuyori on his retreat. All the false witnesses, all with whom Naizen had quarrelled had fled, deserting their lord. Sorrowfully spoke Naizen: "My lord dismissed me, and now should I die for my country it will be a reflection on his judgment; but if I do not die I shall injure the fidelity of the samurai. Though I hurt his fame I must not forsake virtue," and he died with the forty-two faithful ones. As all the others had fled and these forty-two samurai alone held faithful to their lord without a thought of disobedience, they all illustrate samurai fidelity. But Naizen was preëminent among them, for he had been unjustly condemned and came expressly that he might die.

When Katsuyori and all his party had been destroyed, Ieyasu much admired the fidelity of Naizen and regretted that his worship should cease, as he had no children. So Ieyasu employed Naizen's younger brother, and before the battle at Odawara gave him a high command, speaking at length of Naizen's fidelity, — "Naizen was a model samurai, and though his brother is so young I have given him this command in token of my admiration of such loyalty." Truly that was praise after death, and the reward of loyalty.

The Heroic Woman Has No Seed

When in Kaga I heard a man remark: — "All sins, great and small, may be forgiven on repentance and no scars remain, except two; the flight of a samurai from the post where he should die, and theft. These leave a lifelong wound which never heals. All born as samurai, men and women, are taught from childhood that fidelity must never be forgotten." Thereupon I continued: — Of course, and woman is ever taught that submission is her chief duty, and though she fully perform this high duty of fidelity, yet is she never to forget this one thing. If in unexpected strait her weak heart forsakes fidelity, all her other virtues will not atone. In Japan and China alike have been women whose virtue has exceeded that of man.

The wife of Nagaoka Itchu no Kami Tadaoki, was the daughter of Akechi Mitsuhide, the retainer of Oda Nobunaga who killed both his lord and his lord's son.[11] In turn he was destroyed by Hideyoshi. Later Tadaoki, at the time of Seki-ga-hara, went to join Ieyasu in the east. During his absence Ishida Mitsunari[12] sent troops to Tadaoki's castle to seize his wife, but she exclaimed, "I'll not disgrace my husband's house through my desire for life," and killed herself before the enemy got in. Excited by her virtue, the two or three samurai who were with her fired the mansion and slew themselves, and her women took hold of hands, jumped into the fire and died. Even yet shall we praise that deed! The rebel Mitsuhide had such a child, scarcely equalled in China or Japan! As the proverb says: "The general has no seed," so I'll add, — The heroic woman has no seed.[13]

But a guest remarked: — "Not so; not having seed is still to have seed. Fidelity makes the nature of benevolence and righteousness its seed. Then without place or ancestor, without race, without the distinction of high or low, male or female, without family connection, good children come from evil parents, and evil children from the good."

The Old Man was greatly pleased and said: — True! I had thought only of man's nature, not of Heaven's. Such virtue of women and the vulgar must be praised as Heaven's nature. Thus will the samurai be excited to virtue and virtuous hearts will be produced. Let me speak of Shidzuka, the uneducated concubine of Minamoto Yoshitsune.[14] She was a famous dancer in Kyōto, talented, beautiful and beloved of Yoshitsune. When he fled she went with him to Mt. Yoshino and then returned to Kyōto. Called to Kamakura and examined she replied: "I know so far as Mt. Yoshino. No further." She lingered there until the birth of Yoshitsune's child. Yoritomo desired to see her dance and commanded her presence at Tsurugaoka.[15] She refused repeatedly but was forced to comply at last. Yoritomo expected a song and dance for his feast, but she sang:

To and fro like the reel
Would that old times might return!
I long for the trace of the man
Who entered Yoshino's snow white peak.

Yoritomo cried out in anger: "You sing of that rebel Yoshitsune instead of celebrating the present time! It is a crime!" But at the request of his wife he forgave the girl. She cared not, but returned straight to Kyōto and lived in seclusion. Yoritomo's great power bent trees and grass but she feared it not. Her heart was wholly set on Yoshitsune and she excelled the samurai who died with him at Takadate.

I regret that the Kyōto scholar, Nakamura Tekizai, omitted Shidzuka from his account of the famous women of China and Japan, the Hime Kagami. Probably her low origin and occupation as a dancing girl accounts for her exclusion. But her story teaches an important lesson and must not be forgotten. The Book of Poetry says, "Take the herbs; uproot them not as lowly born."

Amano Saburobei

Another day the Old Man said to the assembled guests: This fidelity reveals itself in the stress of strange events. Even in peace and safety pure-hearted samurai are to be highly prized, for they perfectly perform their official duties, and when the emergency comes reveal their fidelity. In peace and in war they are invaluable. Every wise and brave samurai may be given office, and he will have his use; but only the pure in heart must be placed in high position. Unless the heart is pure there is flattery and strife for power and fame, and apparent friends will hate each other. Then wisdom and bravery too will disappear. Timidly will precedents be followed, and each will so act that evil may not come to self. There will be no sign of anything superior, and duty will be slackly performed or wholly forgotten.

In the period Ei-roku (A.D. 1558-1570), Ieyasu was in Mikawa.[16] He established the laws and appointed three officers, Kōriki Yozaemon Kiyonaga, Honda Sakuzaemon Shigetsugu and Amano Saburobei Yasukage, popularly called Buddha Kōriki, Demon Sakuza and Pliant Amano; for the first was merciful, the second severe and the third neither merciful nor severe but guided wholly by reason. All three were of pure heart and there was no competition between them. No one sought to conform to the others, but each followed his own judgment. So Ieyasu gave them the same office and each went his own way independently, but as their government was righteous and as everything was well cared for, all men admired Ieyasu's clear judgment in the choice of men.

I do not know particularly the characteristics of Honda and Kōriki, but in the period Keichō (A.D. 1596-1614) Amano had the castle Kokokuji in Suruga, with an income of thirty thousand koku of rice.[17] He had an immense number of bamboos cut, piled up and ready for use, with three foot soldiers in charge. Some men came from the estates of the Shōgun and stole some of the bamboos, one of the robbers being killed by the guards. The men who escaped complained to Ide, a local official of the Shōgun. Ide may have made a careful examination, but he seems not to have known of the theft of the bamboos, for he sent a messenger to Amano demanding the immediate capital punishment of the soldiers who had killed the robber; "For," said he, "the unauthorized killing of one of the people of the Shōgun is a crime." But Amano replied, "To kill a thief is according to the law. It is no crime. The soldiers killed him at my command. If it is a crime the guilt is mine." So he protected the guard. But Ide could not let the matter rest and appealed to the Shōgun, who commanded Amano to give up the man. But Amano replied as before, and obeyed not. Then Ieyasu said: "Amano is not a man who will sin; perhaps he is deceived. I'll examine into the affair again by and by," and he sent one of his high officers to Amano. And the officer said, "Even though you are in the right yet will the authority of the Shōgun be weakened if he is not obeyed. Draw lots among the three men and kill the one thus selected." Then Amano replied: "As you urge the weakening of the authority of the Shōgun I must consent. But," he added, "the spirit of the strong samurai does not consent to the killing of the innocent that one's self may be exalted. I may well give up my rank"; and he left his castle and disappeared.

In the time of the next Shōgun, a man in some place or other met an ascetic whom he took to be Amano, but whether rightly or not we do not know. No matter; Amano was truly a pure-hearted samurai. It was not right to slay the innocent and protect one's self. But were he not to kill the soldier he would disobey the Shōgun. Neither course was permissible. So he could not remain in the world, and gave up his income of thirty thousand koku and disappeared forever. That is without a parallel.

Yuge So-and-So

But pure-hearted samurai cease not to appear. In Kwan-ei-Shō-hō (A.D. 1624-1647) was a branch temple of Tentokuji, in Shiba, Edo, where always prayers were said without intermission. One day, at evening, as the priest went out of the temple gate he observed a man with a bundle wrapped in oil paper. He seemed a traveller and not a common man. When the priest returned from his errand there was the man still in the gateway. Thinking that strange the priest asked, "Who are you? Come in and rest." "I am listening to the temple prayers," the man replied, "for I like to hear them said. On your invitation I'll go in and have a cup of tea." So in they went and the priest inquired whence he came and whither he journeyed.

The man replied, "From Oshu. I once had a friend in Edo but I cannot find him. So I must find some place." And the priest rejoined, "Stay here to-night, it is so late." So he stayed, and the next day the priest asked him to remain until he should find some occupation. He thanked the priest and remained. It soon appeared that he was an educated man, and the head of Tentokuji called him and helped him and gave him various tasks about the temple, which were all diligently performed. By and by he was made a superintendent of many priests and became a person of importance in the temple.

At that time it happened that a nobleman who had retired from active life was making researches into the history of the past and sought scholarly samurai to help him, paying them good salaries. The people of the temple told him of Yuge and highly recommended him as especially informed about the past. But Yuge thanked the head of the temple when he was informed of it, and said, "I do not intend to enter service again, but your kindness entitles you to know my past." So he told the priest his real name and that he had been a retainer of Gamo Ujisato, and continued: "Since Gamo was destroyed I have no heart for service under any other and purposed to spend my life as a beggar. With no design on my part I have become a recipient of the blessings of the temple, and now my one desire is to repay what I have received. But I find no means so to do." Then he showed the testimonial Gamo had given him for his services in the battle at Kunohe, and elsewhere, and the letters he had received from many nobles offering him employment. "All are useless now," he said, and put them in the fire.[18]

So he lived long in the temple. And in the year A.D. 1657, when Tentokuji was burned, Yuge said: "Permit me to help," and worked on after the chief priest and all the other priests had fled, saving the images, furniture and books. When all were safe he sent off the men who had been helping him.

Afterwards in the ruins of the main hall was found the body of a man, sitting with clasped hands like a priest. It was Yuge, and all the temple folk wept and grieved for him. But he had no desire to abide in the temple; he had merely waited for an opportunity to return the favours he had received. At the fire he found the opportunity he sought, and after working to the end purposely perished in the flames. How pure and holy was his heart!

When I was young I heard a story about another samurai. He was a retainer of the late Abe Bungō no Kami, but had given up his position and taken a house in Hachōbori, Edo. I have forgotten his name. As the years went by he grew poor until he was in need of food. His landlord took pity on him and sent him food, but he became ill. Then his landlord sent him gruel, but he declined it as too ill to eat. Then he fastened up his door so that no one could enter and his landlord could only stand without and make inquiries. By and by the responses ceased. Then the landlord called the neighbors, broke open the door and went in. Seated on straw matting and leaning against his armour box with his two swords upon his knees, the samurai was dead. By his side was a writing. It expressed his appreciation of his landlord's kindness, with money to pay his rent and for his funeral. His armour was carefully arranged in its box, and with it three gold pieces. His swords were old but had gold ornaments. He had only the clothes he wore and there was not a pot nor any furniture. Nor was there any appearance that he had eaten for an hundred days. The landlord informed the officials, and they told him to carry out the written instructions. When Bungō no Kami heard the circumstance he was greatly grieved. The samurai had been a man of strength and always first when there was some great thing to do. I greatly grieve over his useless death by starvation; and it would be wrong that such a man should remain concealed, unmentioned by any one.

The Two Beggars

Nowadays customs are decayed and all men are selfish. But since man's nature is originally good, without regard to family or customs, there are men who know the right even among the beggars.

Ten years ago on the 17th day of the 12th month of the year U, Mitsu no to, of the period Kyōhō (12th Jan., A.D. 1724) a clerk named Ichijurō, in the employment of a merchant of Muromachi, Edo, named Echigoya Kichibei, lost a purse containing thirty ryō as he was returning from collecting some accounts. He thought it had been stolen, but returned over his route looking for it carefully. At last a beggar met him and asked, "What have you lost? Is it money?" Overjoyed Ichijurō told of his loss and the beggar said that he had found the purse and was seeking its owner. So Ichijurō exactly described its contents, money, papers and all, and the beggar gave it back to him. In his joy at the unexpected event Ichijurō offered the beggar five ryō, but the beggar would not take them. "But it was all one and you returned it! Do take five ryō!" said Ichijurō. But the beggar persisted. "Had I wanted five ryō I should not have returned the thirty. But I did not think it mine when I picked it up. I thought that some one had lost his master's money and would be in trouble. Some men might have kept it, but I found it and desired to give it back. Now as I have returned it my business is at an end." And off he ran as fast as he could go. But Ichijurō took an itchi bu from the purse and followed him crying, "It is cold to-day! Take this for sake." So the beggar took it and said, "I'll drink the sake." And in answer to a question he said, "I am Hachibei, a beggar of Kurumazenshichi."

When Ichijurō went home and told his story his master wept in admiration and determined to give the beggar the five ryō. So on the following morning he sent Ichijurō and his chief clerk to Zenshichi, the beggar's master, to ask him to try and persuade Hachibei to take the money. But Zenshichi said, "The beggar Hachibei got a bu somewhere last night and called his friends together and had a feast of fish and sake. He drank a great deal himself and whether it did not agree with him, he died this morning." Ichijurō was astonished and asked for the body, and asked the man not to send it off or have it buried, so going home Ichijurō told his master who sent for the corpse and expended the five ryō on a funeral, interring it at Muenji in Hongō. It was certainly wonderful that a merchant should thus be affected by righteousness. He had often been employed by the Lord of Kaga, and on the twentieth of the month Ichijurō went to Kaga Yashiki and told the story to the officials there, and they told it to me.

Hachibei was, I judge, no ordinary man. He had doubtless entered the beggar's guild because poor and homeless. He saw no resource in life, and having fortunately money for a feast for his comrades he thought it a good end and choked himself. Had he been a samurai or in authority he would never have used his power to take that which belonged to others. There are men whose name is splendidly samurai, but who in truth are beggars, but this man who was called a beggar was in truth a samurai.

In Kaga is a place called Nodayama, the burial place of the Maeda family. Their retainers, too, are all buried at the foot of the hill. At the festival of the Bon, candles are put at all the graves and wealthy folk build a miniature house over the grave and put a guard on watch. But for the most part the candles are simply lighted and left to burn themselves out. So bad men come, put out the candles and steal them. A beggar slept there wrapped up in matting. He forbade the thieves to touch the candles, saying, "These offerings at the graves of ancestors are not to be touched." They reviled him, saying, "A beggar has no right to speak!" Then he replied, "True, I am a beggar, for I do not as you." That was very interesting. His words were well chosen and his meaning plain.

As I constantly repeat, in both China and Japan men of fidelity cannot escape suffering. They may even lack sufficient clothes and food, and fall in field or stream unnoticed by the world. What is more lamentable? Surely it is our duty to reveal such hidden righteousness. There are many like Yuge, the beggar Hachibei, and this beggar in Kaga. Yet I cannot help those of whom I do not hear; but if I hear I cannot forbear to speak.

Of old when the emperor commanded that books of poetry be made, the names of dancing girls and priests appeared with the names of nobles and even of the emperor himself. That is one of the merits of our Japanese poetry, for poetry knows no distinction of rank. So does my talk of fidelity bring in samurai of distinguished families with dancing girls and beggars. Fidelity knows no distinction of high and low. This is its virtue.

All present agreed with this opinion of the Old Man.

Notes

[1] Book of Poetry, "The Sacrificial Odes of Kau," Ode IV.

[2] From the Rikuto of the Shichisho.

[3] Chu Yuen-chang, a plebeian by birth who overthrew the Mongols, A.D. 1368, and set up the Ming dynasty. The Middle Kingdom, Vol. II, p. 176.

[4] So said the celebrated general Baen (Ma Yuan) of his emperor Kwang Wu Ti of the Han dynasty, who reigned in China, A.D. 25-58.

[5] Nobunaga, when at the height of his power, was treacherously killed, A.D. 1582. Hideyoshi then seized the power, and died A.D. 1598. After a time of war and strife Ieyasu overthrew all enemies and became Shōgun, handing down the position to his successors, forming the Tokugawa.

[6] See Rein's Japan, p. 280. The comparative merits of Hideyoshi and Ieyasu are still stoutly debated. Kyusō is, of course, a thoroughgoing partisan.

[7] The decisive victory by which Ieyasu won the empire, A.D. 1600.

[8] At Kyōto. It was destroyed by an earthquake, 1598. Quite a different view of the conduct of Ieyasu in connection with the Dai Butsu is given in Satow and Hawes' "Handbook," 1st ed., p. 321. There he is represented as urging the heir of Hideyoshi to rebuild it on such a splendid scale as would exhaust his finances. And in connection with its dedication Ieyasu sought cause for offence and brought about the final downfall of his young rival. Ieyasu and his grandson are buried at Nikko.

[9] The direct bestowal of a gift by the hand of the daimyō was regarded as the greatest of rewards.

[10] Through adoption.

[11] Rein, p. 270 and p. 276.

[12] Ishida Mitsunari was the chief opponent of Ieyasu, in the struggles following the death of Hideyoshi. Mitsunari vainly attempted to attach Tadaoki to his cause but Tadaoki joined Ieyasu. Rein, p. 296.

[13] For a somewhat similar incident see Rein, p. 279. In the war of the restoration in 1868 some samurai women of Aidzu slew their infant sons and themselves when the castle fell.

[14] Rein, pp. 239-240. The great popularity of Yoshitsune brought upon him the fatal jealousy of his brother, Yoritomo, who was the first Shōgun.

[15] Tsurugaoka, a temple near Kamakura.

[16] Ieyasu was the Daimyo of Mikawa before he became Shōgun.

[17] A koku of rice is 5.13 bushels.

[18] Gamo Ujisato was one of Hideyoshi's famous generals. He was made daimyo of Aidzu and aided in the subjugation of the north (Oshu) and among his battles was one at Kunohe. He was accused of seeking independent authority for himself and was poisoned. He was a Christian.

Book IV — Wisdom

Dark Is the Foot of the Candlestick

When the dog days were half gone, some friends came to the Old Man's cottage on Suruga Dai to enjoy its coolness. The daily rain had ceased and the setting sun still lingered in the western trees. Cool the drops hung on tree and bamboo, and sweet was the odor of the lotus in the pond. The guests could not leave the scene, but stood on the balcony, and taking hold of its rail recited poetry, until at last in the gathering darkness white had melted into black. Then they went within and began to say farewell. But the Old Man urged them to remain and, consenting to pass the evening with him in talk, all sat down. As the lights were brought the Old Man had a thought, and pointing to the candles said, "Expound the proverb, 'Dark is the Foot of the Candlestick.'"

So one took up the theme and said: — "That which everywhere is spoken of is not known at home. We foolish men explain it thus and Mencius sets forth the reason, 'The Way that is near men seek afar off';[1] they are forgetful of the beginning and seek the end, as the archer looks at the distant mark." Then another continued: — "The verse of the nun Godo in works of the Radaikyō[2] is an interesting illustration of the theme; — 'Seeking spring all day we see it not. The haze rests on the sandal-prints along the ridges of the rice fields. Returning laughingly we pick a blossom of the plum and as we smell it, lo! behold! all the spring is present in the twig!' This is equally true of other things besides the 'Way.' In the time of To-shin[3] Kanon attacked Sanshin, and when Ōmō came forth to meet him cried, 'Why do not the heroes of Sanshin come forth?' So dark were his eyes since no hero of them all excelled Ōmō. Not to know the hero before one's eyes but to ask the hero for heroes, surely that excellently sets forth our proverb. So has it ever been in China and Japan! Great generals have sought distant enterprises and their renown has gone abroad even to the land of their enemies, yet have the enemies at home, within the hedge, remained unknown: so did Oda Nobunaga conquer east and west and yet, so dark was it close at hand, was slain by Akechi."[4]

Then the Old Man spoke: — You have completely taught the meaning of the proverb as to the attainment of righteousness, but you have used this darkness near at hand in a bad sense. I would use it also in illustration of the good. There is this further meaning in it. As the short poem of Kantaishi has it, — 'Vain is the candlestick eight feet long. The short one two feet long is victor in giving light.' For it is dark below the long and light below the short candlestick, so as we wish to read and need a light close at hand we honour the short one, a foot or two in length. But it fails to illuminate the room and is useless in the great apartment filled with guests. So then, those which brighten the distance are dark close at hand. If from the darkness we see the light, it is all clear to our eyes; but if from the light we seek to penetrate the darkness, we can see it not. Thus to see the light from the darkness is to hide deeply and cherish profoundly one's own wisdom. Then if light shine out from such darkness it is naturally strong and clear and reaches to a distance. This is true light. But when proud of intellect we labour with celerity and clearness to illuminate that which is close at hand, we look at the darkness from the light. Such light is weak, confined and superficial. It does not reach to the distance and merely illuminates our finger-ends. So we are like the unskilled go-player: we cannot see the end, and mistake at every move.

In China and Japan men of great and clear wisdom have been modest and unwilling to use their gifts. So says Laotze:[5] — "The wise merchant keeps his treasure out of sight and the wisdom of the wise seems folly." Not long ago Itakura Suwo no Kami was judge in Kyōto. His quick intelligence revealed itself in his face, and men were disconcerted as they saw his heart, so that neither prosecutor nor accused could fully state his case. So when Itakura heard a cause he shut himself behind screens, ground tea and was as if he heard not. Now he is famous. When reasons good and bad were stated, he was as a god in decisions and none failed to obey his words. Even yet there are countless stories of him, and among them all I like this one best: Once as he passed through a country district a child cried out, "There goes Suwo." As he heard the shout he said, "No one anywhere in the capital or provinces, child or adult, man or woman, does not know that I am the Shōgun's representative in Kyōto. No one calls me Suwo. But this child repeats what he has learned. The people of the house must hate me, and therefore call me Suwo." So he asked who lived within, and the following day summoned the master of the house and inquired, "Has any cause of yours been judged by me? Do not be alarmed. Tell me the facts." After many excuses, as he could not get off, the man finally replied; — "In such a month and year a relative and I quarrelled about the division of my father's property. He was in the wrong but hired many false witnesses and gained his suit," and the man stated the particulars. So Lord Suwo told his men to examine the records and it was as the man had said. So the case was again reviewed and finally Itakura said, "The decision was wrong. But it is long past and cannot now be reversed. I'll pay you for your loss and apologize for my error." So he gave the man his money.

As the candlestick is long its base is dark, but its light shines far. So is the "Way" of the superior man dark indeed but grows daily bright. If the candlestick is short the base is bright, but the light goes but a little way. So is the "way" of the little man destroyed day by day. But your explanation is the true one; this of mine is apart. I have dwelt too long on this subject thoughtlessly, said the Old Man with a laugh. But the guests replied, "It is wonderful what meaning you can find even in a theme like this."

Laws Are Like a River

When the moon is full it wanes and the flower in full bloom scatters. We dislike the putting forth of full strength by anything. Seven or eight tenths of our strength should be used and the rest reserved. Should all be used, regret follows fast. Not wholly should a superior man give himself to joy nor to friendship without reserve. To accept hospitality too freely becomes rudeness and to become too intimate is to give offence. And the same principle holds with the government, as the vulgar saying is, "The government of the land must be like the stick that stirs the rice in the box, it stops not at the corners"; and where it does not reach is the place of freedom. So the Book of Changes teaches us that when the king hunts the animals are surrounded on three sides, that one side may be left open for their escape. There has never been a time when there were not concubines and favourites, nor any country without evil men. Yet do the good win. Let ruler and ruled, high and low, show mercy and loyalty, then shall the foundations of the state be strengthened.

And thus it is that the ancient rulers exalt intelligence but do not praise acuteness. The two are alike and yet differ. Intelligence is the candle that illuminates the room, and though the foot is dark the room is bright. Acuteness is like a lantern, excellent for finding things just at hand but useless at a distance. The virtue of the ruler is like the candle and not like the lantern.

The Imperial laws are lenient and broad, like the river; they are not narrow and small like canals. And just because the river is so big and well known it is easily avoided; so deep and broad is it that it cannot be despised nor readily injured. But canals are many and small, narrow, difficult to avoid and easily injured. No one steps into the river by mistake, but constantly men slip into the canals. Still the government must not be mere leniency. Many details confuse the laws and make them cruel and hated, yet must they be severe according to times and circumstances. In times of perfect peace men float in lazy pleasure, and desiring luxury, security is thought most important of all, then with ease ancient evils cannot be escaped. Reform the government, increase the severity of the laws and make new the people's eyes and ears. The people rejoice at the accomplishment of the task: they cannot aid in its inception. They are foolish and look not to the good or evil of the state but only to their own. They are fault-finding and fertile in arguments.

When Shishan ruled Tei he strenuously reformed the evil customs, forbade extravagance in dress and equipage and made rules for the dwellings of the people. The rich in fear hid away their clothes and the landlords gave their possessions to the government, which redistributed them to their people. So the people sang, — "We hide our hats and clothes. Our lands are taken and divided. We will not blame him who kills Shishan." But in a short three years extravagance had ceased and riot and crime had disappeared and then the people sang, "Let Shishan teach our brothers and children; Shishan increases our fields; should Shishan die who could take his place?" And Confucius said, — "Shishan is a superior man."[6] So the government loves and cherishes the people with leniency and severity. When lenient, the people grow selfish, and with severity comes reform. When severe, the people are harmed and then leniency must be invoked. Severity repairs the harm wrought by leniency, and leniency heals the wound of severity. Thus is the government successful. As Confucius said, "Neither should be used by itself."

So the state reforms evils great and small and for the rest, ancient precedent should be followed unchanged. The carpenter may indeed forsake the traditions of his craft and form new methods for himself, but how narrow will be his rules and how poor his workmanship. With much pains and great thought he accomplishes nothing. In everything it is easy to follow precedent and difficult to invent new ways. There are ever men ready to show their ability in inventions; and though they may find something of value one time out of ten, yet will it even prove only of immediate use and not of value in the future. They see that which is easy only and not the many difficulties. Treasure and strength are wasted in the end. Especially should the good laws of our ancestors and the tried institutions of the past be untouched. They are familiar to eyes and ears, and to be changed only at the risk of losing the people's hearts.

But the rule is not absolute. Some laws were established to meet peculiar needs. Such should not be continued but should be reformed. Otherwise society is harmed and government impeded in the name of the past. To reform such evils is really to fulfil the purpose of our ancestors. Not otherwise did they desire that government should be carried on and long for filial sons and grandsons.

As thus the Old Man set forth his argument with instances ancient and modern, the short summer night showed the coming dawn; the guests said farewell and took their leave.

Tsure-dzure Gusa

On another occasion when guests came to see the Old Man a copy of the Tsure-dzure Gusa[7] was seen by his side and he was asked, Do you like the Book? Kenko was witty and used language well in the description of emotions and scenery. "No," was the reply; "I only read it as a pastime to the children, while I am ill. I do not really like it." "Do you not agree to the general opinion," asked another guest, "that Kenko was a wise man?" And the Old Man replied, — Men who forsake the world fancy Kenko; men who like him care neither for fame nor gain. But I am not so sure of that. The Taiheiki says that he wrote a lustful letter for Ko no Moronawo; and the Entairiaku says that when he accepted the invitation of Iga no Kami, Tachibana no Naritada, and went to Iga he committed adultery with Naritada's daughter. Some of his poems were written at that time. So we see that he flattered the world and was lustful. He talked of deserting the world and despising fame and gain, but he lacked the firm purpose of the man who really deserts the world. He followed Buddhism; and so there are poems of lust and sin mingled with his talk of forsaking the world. Manifestly he was not a wise man.

Besides a few works on history like the Sankyō Ega Monogatari which record facts there are no books worth reading in our literature. For the most part they are sweet stories of the Buddhas of which we soon weary. But the evil is traditional, long continued and beyond remedy. And other books are full of lust, not to be even mentioned, like the Genji Monogatari,[8] which should never be shown to a woman or a young man. Such books lead to vice. Our nobles call the Genji Monogatari a national treasure, why I do not know, unless it is that they are intoxicated with its style. That is like plucking the spring blossom unmindful of autumn's fruit. The book is full of adulteries from beginning to end. Seeing the right ourselves become good, seeing the wrong, we should reprove ourselves. The Genji Monogatari, Chōkonka and Seishōki are of a class, — vile, mean, comparable to the books of the sages as charcoal to ice, as the stench of decay to the perfume of flowers.

Long has Buddhism made Japan think of nothing as important except the worship of the Buddha. So it is that evil customs prevail and there is no one who does not find pleasure in lust. And the story books are full of the same things. Other writings contain for the most part low wit and vile lies, without a virtue. They are altogether worse than the Tsure-dzure Gusa. Take out the lust and Buddhism from that book, and scenery and the emotions are well described. There is a good deal that is silly, yet there is also reason and principles. Had he been learned in the "Way" of the sages he had not fallen into Buddhism. And moreover he sinned through lust, so that his filthy name remains. Alas! Thus should we learn how dangerous are man's lusts.

The Daibutsu Pence

What I ever hate is the conduct of Shigehira. It was not a disgrace that he was captured by the enemy, but while imprisoned at Kamakura he went into the drinking hall and had all sorts of talk with the dancing girls. When he was sent to Nara he asked his guards to send him his beloved concubine. Surely these are things not to be done by a man! It was most miserable, but he felt no shame. But on the other hand he felt he had committed a great crime, and was in great fear because in obedience to his father he had burned the Dai Butsu at Nara! At Kamakura he confessed this and sought the forgiveness of Yoritomo; and again, when at Kyōto he met the priest Honen he mourned over it. Such repentance shows a heart dark beyond all help.[9]

Later on Matsunaga Danjo also burned the Nara Dai Butsu, and so strong a man as Nobunaga thought it a great crime. So when Danjo killed his lord Miyoshi Yoshinaga, the Shōgun Nobunaga put these crimes together to his shame. How can Buddhism thus deceive the heart of man?[9]

But in the period Kambun (A.D. 1661-1673) Matsudaira Idzu no Kami Nobutsuna was in power and broke up the metal of the Nara images which had been honoured for a thousand years and turned Dai Butsu into pence, a great profit to the empire quite unparalleled. His strong wisdom was unique. With the advance of civilization since the establishment of the Tokugawa rule such men frequently appear. Should men like Shigehira hear of such deeds they would die of astonishment. All of Idzu no Kami's Government was good, but three things are preëminent: his forbidding retainers to die with their lords, his stopping the custom of sending hostages to the Shōgun and his conversion of the Dai Butsu into pence. By the first, an evil to future generations was prevented; by the second, sorrow was averted in all the provinces; and by the third a great error was corrected, an inheritance for future ages.

There were many such men in power, and their blessing comes to us in this continued peace. But Idzu no Kami was first among them all. He was sent to fight at Amakusa,[10] and after his victory he returned to Edo and went in to see the Shōgun just as he was in travelling array. As he entered, all congratulated him; and in the ante-room was Shinzaemon, to whom Idzu no Kami remarked as he passed through, "I have something to say to you when I return." So when he returned from his audience in the midst of a great crowd he said to Shinzaemon, "It was determined that the great bell at my headquarters should give the signal for the gathering of the daimyō for the attack. But I thought to myself, 'Suppose some fool or some rebel should strike the bell to-night!' so I had the beam taken away and brought to my side. But then I thought 'the bell can still be struck by something else,' so I had it wholly taken down and wrapped in a bag. As it turned out the rebels began the fight unexpectedly, and there was not time to get off the bag and hang the bell; so we were obliged to fight and whip them without its aid. Then I remembered your words, 'Be not over careful;' and thought this an excellent illustration." Though it was said in jest, yet he had not forgotten the word. An ordinary man would have had no thought at such a time for this. But Idzu no Kami showed the greatness of his heart by telling his mistake before them all. That is true wisdom. But men who desire authority and outward ornament are indeed very low, like frogs in a well.

Yasutoki's Unselfishness

From the beginning of the Kamakura regime Hōjō Yasutoki was the best of all the men of these times.[11] Few can be compared with him. He once said to Mioe of Togano, "I am unequal to this great task of Government. How shall I cause strife to cease among the people?" Mioe replied, "Be unselfish." "But," said Yasutoki, "will the people be unselfish too if I am so?" And the priest replied, "No matter about the people! Try it and see!" So Yasutoki believed him, and when his father Yoshitoki died, gave the inheritance to his younger brother and kept just enough for his needs. His mother remonstrated with him, saying, "You have not kept enough"; he replied, "I inherit the government. I have enough. I wish my brothers to be rich." She greatly admired him, and as time passed all of his relatives came to be on the best of terms and all Kamakura admiringly followed their example. Mioe was a priest, but his words agree with the reply that Confucius made to Kikoshi, — "If you covet not they will steal though theft be praised."[12] And the government of Yasutoki shows that the words of the Sage are true.

While Yasutoki was in power he went every day to the office and laboured hard all day. He had a patient regard for the chief officials and was wise and impartial in his judgments, as is related in the Adzuma Kagami. Long ago an old scholar told me this story of him: One day when hearing a case, while accuser and accused were face to face, the accuser suddenly said, "I had thought my cause good and so entered complaint. Now I see my error and will not add a word." There he stopped and Yasutoki in great admiration said, "You are beaten in your case but you are victorious in reason. I have heard many cases, but never before have I seen a man thus yield to reason. If I do not reward you whom shall I reward?" So he gave him a very special reward.

So it was that quarrels gradually ceased and the judges had leisure. I have forgotten in what monogatari this is, but it illustrates Yasutoki's justice, benevolence and truth. His work benefited his son and extended to future generations as they imitated his virtue and accepted what he had accomplished. Thus it was that Kamakura won the affections of the people.

Men think Tokiyori wiser, but I do not agree. He soon gave up his high rank, became a priest, liked quiet walks and thus saw the condition of the people. That seems admirable to those who do not know reason. He should not have deserted his post for the sake of the quiet of a temple. A born ruler should not thus injure virtue and lose the Government. His plan was petty, and "dark at a distance." Neither he nor any other at Kamakura at all equalled Yasutoki. When the Hōjō rule began, many men of parts gathered at Kamakura, but they were men of mere strength and bravery, without knowledge or wisdom. Shigetada is preëminent among them, for when falsely accused he refused to take an oath, saying, "I have never lied, and why should I take an oath?" so Yoritomo forgave him, but he was killed by the Hōjō and died most purely. The crimes of Tokimasa and Yoshitoki were against both men and Heaven and death were an insufficient punishment. Were it not for Yasutoki the Hōjō had been destroyed before the time of Takatoki.

Notes

[1] Book IV, Part I, Chapter XI.

[2] A Buddhist priest said to be of India (?).

[3] The Eastern Tsin, A.D. 317-419.

[4] Rein's Japan, pp. 269-270.

[5] In his reputed conversation with Confucius. Chinese Classics, Vol. I, Prolegomena, p. 65.

[6] Shishan (Kung-sun K'iao) was chief minister of Cheng when lawlessness and disorder prevailed. When he had reigned three years the doors were not locked at night and lost articles were not picked up on the highway. Mayers, p. 221; Analects, Book V, Chap. XV.

[7] Kenko was an official who became a priest on the death of his Imperial master. Kenko died A.D. 1350. A translation of the Tsure-dzure Gusa may be found in The Chrysanthemum, Vol. III, by the Rev. C. S. Eby.

[8] The Genji Monogatari was written in the year A.D. 1004. "Things Japanese," p. 269. It quite deserves the sharp judgment here given. The first part has been translated into English by Suyematsu Kenchio. The Chōkonka and Seishōki are Chinese books.

[9] Shigehira was a Taira Kuge. Honen was the instructor of the founder of the Hon-gwan-ji sect Shinran Shonin. Danjo became Nobunaga's follower, after he had committed these crimes.

[10] Amakusa — the war against the Christians. Rein, p. 308.

[11] The Hōjō family succeeded Yoritomo as the real rulers of Japan. They were the Regents of Kamakura, ruling in the name of the "Puppet Shōgun" for 120 years. "Takatoki, the last of the line, became Regent at the age of nine." The Hōjō family was overthrown by Ashikaga Taka-uji and Nitta Yoshisada, A.D. 1334. Satow and Hawes's "Handbook," pp. 54-55.

[12] Kikoshi was troubled by the many thieves in his dominions. Analects XII, XVIII.

Book V — Sincerity

The Moon the Memento of the Generations

When the year was more than half gone and the autumn scenery was come, the cool wind piercing the body, after long absence the friends gathered again at the house of the Old Man. They made the customary inquiries and were taking leave when he stopped them saying, — "The moon is very fine to-night. Do not go. Stop awhile and have some wine." So obediently they all sat down. And as the talk went on the people of the house set out food and wine, and the guests soon felt the influence of the wine and became interesting. One with his cup in his hand recited a verse of Rihaku[1] in praise of the moon, another capped it, and a third continued and a fourth, and last of all the Old Man; — "The men of to-day see not the moon of long ago: The moon of to-day shines not upon the men of long ago: The men of to-day and the men of long ago, Are like the flowing water. All are alike as they see the moon, With verse and wine their one desire is that, The Moon shine long upon the metal cask"; so he made an end of it. But the drinking went on, and as they drank still more until the mountains seemed to fall, the Old Man continued:

You all unite in praising the moon in verse and my heart is comforted as I see it. An emotion that ceases not arises, for the moon is the comfort of old age. I have many thoughts, and will give you one of them. When a child I was once sitting alone in the corner at the wine drinking on the fifteenth of the eighth month when a samurai, who was wholly illiterate, looked long at the moon and asked, — "How wide is it?" Then another like him said, "It is cut off from something. How deep is it?" All who heard it bit their tongues, and even as a child I thought it absurd. But really, are most men so different, as they praise the moon for its clear light and love its pure reflection and meet together to eat, drink and sing? And the poets ornament their verses as they see the moon and labour over their form, and yet after all, aesthetic as it all seems, they are merely amused with the appearance of the moon and know not its profound "feeling."

What I said of "the emotion that ceases not" refers to the love of the ancients, the study of their books as we know their hearts and the pain of separation from the world. It is the moon which lights generation after generation and now too shines in the sky. So may we call it the Memento of the Generations. As we look upon it and think of the things of old, we seem to see the reflection of the forms and faces of the past. Though the moon says not a word, yet it speaks. If we have forgotten, then it recalls the ages gone by. This verse of Rihaku is the best of all the poetry about the moon, for it lets the mere appearance go and unites past and present in one spirit, all "Are like the flowing water." Yet there is something wanting, for it does not speak of waiting for the coming age, and this is supplied in the ancient writing called So: —

"The men who are gone come not to me,
The men of the future hear me not,"

and as I read it my admiration knows no bounds. For this is Kushi's[2] thought: "No one knows me, none of my own generation; and the men of the past who were one in heart with me, with whom I would speak, are beyond my reach; and the men of the coming age who will be of like spirit, hear me not and know me not." So is it with every one who has a heart: it is not Kushi only who thus laments. I too see the moon with such a spirit and mourn. The present is the past to the future, and in that age some one like me will grieve as he looks upon the moon.

To Forsake the World but Not One's Self

When the celebrated priest Saigyō went on pilgrimage through the east he came to Kamakura and went with others to Tsurugaoka. There Yoritomo noticed the superiority of his company and called him to his house, asked him of horsemanship, archery and poetry. Without fear of the splendour of Yoritomo or of the presence of his famous followers, Saigyō freely uttered his opinions. Yoritomo greatly admired him, but was unable to detain him or give him anything except a silver cat, and this Saigyō threw to the children in the street as he went away. Nor was it known whither he went.

There was, at that time, a very bad priest at Takao, named Bungaku. He was very proud of his power, which was given him at Kamakura, and he hated Saigyō's character and said, "If I meet him I'll insult him to his face." Once Saigyō came to Takao and Bungaku asked him to spend the night with him, full of joy at the opportunity. He said to his followers, "See! When he comes I'll strike him!" and waited with clenched fist. All were in troubled suspense, but when Saigyō came Bungaku's courage failed and he greeted him respectfully. So, afterwards, the followers said to Bungaku, "Why did you not strike Saigyō?" But Bungaku replied, "See the spirit of his face! He should strike me!" How apparent was Saigyō's high pure character and wonderful spirit! Our only grief is that Confucianism was not yet made known to the world and so even such a man knew not the truth. With a clear pure character, he disliked the ways of the world and became a priest. Truly that was lamentable!

To forsake parent and lord that one may save himself by becoming a priest is indeed to forsake the world; but instead of parent and lord it is not to forsake one's self. Unless we forsake our self we forsake not the world. The desire for fame and gain in the world, and the forsaking of the world in the hope of paradise, these differ as the pure and the impure, yet both alike are from the desire for one's own happiness. Buddhism regards our human relationships as "borrowed" and so teaches that parent and lord may be forsaken. Not so! If we are to desert anything, first cast away reputation, gain and pleasure! Then there will be no need to flee the world. But in the celebrated doctrine there is place for natural pleasure. It is not necessary to forsake the human relationships or anything. But to forsake these through the desire for paradise is a shameful exhibition of the craving for happiness.

There was once a woman who was ready to die of grief because of the death of her husband, and she refused to be comforted. But the priest reproved her: "You may well love your husband; Buddhism does not interfere with that, for it is most natural. But separated from him, with the marriage tie cut, in loneliness and for yourself to grieve, that is selfishness. It is a great increase of guilt. Consider this doctrine as you weep." So she repented and stopped her grief. It was wise advice, but the priest did not consider how it applied to himself. From of old all, high and low, men and women, who have clung to Buddhism have found the sole origin for faith in regard for their own happiness. Even the wise among them have not the wisdom of this woman. How have countless generations wasted their precious bodies! And the future too will show like waste! My grief I have put into this verse:

"For an hundred generations the universe flows on;
Literature and the 'Way' are now destroyed,
Our thoughts are sad; Who knows?
Above the heavens just the one round moon,
Long shines upon the lasting grief of man.

The Way of truth is cast away!
With whom then shall I speak?
False principles and new heresies come forth day by day;
The clear moon knows the grief of a thousand generations,
And kindly shines upon the old white head."

The guests together repeated the verse, and just then the moon sank in the west and the morning broke; and all went home.

Economy

To the samurai first of all is righteousness, next life, then silver and gold. These last are of value, but some put them in the place of righteousness! But to the samurai even life is as dirt compared to righteousness.

Until the middle part of the middle ages customs were comparatively pure though not really righteous. Corruption has come only during this period of government by the samurai. A maid servant in China was made ill with astonishment and fled home in dismay when she saw her mistress, soroban in hand, arguing prices and values. So it was once with the samurai. They knew nothing of trade, were economical and content.

An old man told me this story of Hine Bichu no Kami. When he went to Korea he borrowed money for his expenses and on his return sent to return it. His creditor, Kuroda Josui, directed the servants to take off the flesh from some tai which had been sent in as a present and to make soup of the bones for his guests. As this severe economy was observed, the guests were filled with apprehension as to the probable demand for high interest on the loan. But after the wine when they offered to make payment Kuroda Josui would not take the principal. He was economical beyond expression, even with his fish that had been given him, even in the feasting of his friends, but did not hesitate to give an hundred silver pieces when his friend had need. That is an admirable illustration of the character of the samurai of those days, simple and economical, yet unforgetful of righteousness and strong of heart.

Even in the days of my youth young folks never mentioned the price of anything; and their faces reddened if the talk was of women. Their joy was in talk of battles and of plans for war. And they studied how parents and lords should be obeyed and the duty of samurai. But nowadays the young men talk of loss and gain, of dancing girls and harlots and gross pleasures. It is a complete change from the customs of fifty or sixty years ago. In those days I had a friend Kurando, whose father was a Kaga samurai named Aochi Unimi. Aochi said to his son, "There is such a thing as trade. See that you know nothing of it. In trade the profit should always be on the other side. It differs from 'go' in that if we win there is no peace in the victory." But now, men greatly rejoice if they make a profit by exchange. To be proud of buying high priced articles cheap is the good fortune of merchants, but should be unknown to samurai. Let it not be even so much as mentioned. I remember the remarks of Arai Chikugo no Kami some years ago: — Call no man stingy. If one is stingy of money still more will he be stingy of life. Stinginess is another name for cowardice. So he spoke as he expounded the books before the Shōgun. It is the truth. And samurai must have a care of their words and are not to speak of avarice, cowardice or lust.

Nor must we waste our time. "Strength comes not twice. A day is not twice to-morrow. At the time for labour we must toil. Years and months wait not for man." Born with a love for learning, let us not think that the age is without virtue and the future without reputation, and that we perish as the trees and grass. Strive diligently every day. There was a Kaga man who was fond of the aestheticism of Rikiyu[3] and practiced the tea ceremonies assiduously. When ordered to Edo he took his outfit with him and even in the inns hung up his kettle and made his tea. His associates remonstrated, — "Much as you like your tea, do take a vacation while en route." But he replied, — "A day en route is no other; it too is one of the days of my life! So it is not a day for omitting my ceremonious tea." He made no difference nor stopped a day.

So must scholars set their purpose on the "Way." It is not to be forsaken at all, and there is in all the life no day that is not for its practice. Going or coming, there is no place without it. We should not be in haste, lest we soon give it up. Not in haste and not in sloth must we ever pursue the "Way."

A Word for the Opening Year — Conclusion

Swiftly the days and months pass by. Day by day increases the disease, old age, and labour is of no avail. It is the seventy-fifth year, and not so long had the Old Man hoped to live with the billows of old age rolling on. He was paralysed too, so that hand and foot were not easily moved and with difficulty could he get up or down. For three years the spring beauty of the garden had not been seen, but the voice of the uguisu from the tree-top came to his bed awakening him from his lingering dreams. Patiently did he remember the past as the perfume of the plum blossoms visited his pillow.

How blessed was he then that from his youth he had seen through the windows of philosophy the value of the passing years; that he had followed Tei-Shu and sought the manners of the Sages; that he had admired the literary style of Kantaishi and Ōyōshu[4] and had learned haltingly to walk the "Way." What consolation was this for his aged wakefulness! Through so many months and years well had he considered the passing, changing world, with its alternating adversity and prosperity, its bloom and decay. Are they all dreams and visions, "the clouds that float above the earth"? Fortune and misfortune are twisted together like the strands of a rope.

Among it all only the "Way" of the sages stands with Heaven and Earth. Past and present it only changes not. Men should wonder at it and praise. But the world knows it not. Men are in darkness as to righteousness, though wise in gain and lust. The "Way" is forsaken and customs deteriorate. Alas! Alas! but my low rank and feeble powers could not reform the customs or restore the doctrine; as well might a gnat move a tree or one dip out the ocean with a shell. Yet is it our duty as scholars to grieve over the world and reform the people. We cannot give this task to others. Why should aged teachers and men who are accounted scholars desire false doctrines, mix them with the truth and thus transform the "Way" of righteousness and virtue?

I cannot agree to that. They work and argue, please the vulgar and go with the times. Deplorable! As has been said of old, — "A corrupt learning that flatters the world." Let it be so! Let customs change! I alone will follow the "way" of benevolence and righteousness nor lose the pattern I have learned! This is the sign of the scholar who honours the "Way." In the New Year when men bless themselves with good wishes for a thousand worlds, I will set my heart on the "Way" of the five virtues only and will change not. This I think the rightful cause for congratulations. So I write: —

This spring too I go unchanged
Five times more than seventy seeking the "Way."

This year I have been busy, from Spring to autumn, collecting and writing my various talks with my disciples. I finished it in the autumn, and though it is as worthless as the refuse gathered by fishermen, yet if transmitted to our company it may be one-ten-thousandth help to those who study themselves. So at the end I wrote my New Year's verse, ending yet beginning, and thus reveal an endless heart.

Kyō-hō Jin-shi no Toshi, Fuyu Jūgatsu (Winter, December 1729).

— (signed) Kyusō.

Notes

[1] Rihaku, a famous poet of the Tō dynasty in China.

[2] Kushi, the author of the couplet (Ku Yuan), was a minister who committed suicide, about B.C. 314. Mayers, p. 107.

[3] [This footnote, evidently on Sen no Rikyū, the tea master, is missing from the sacred-texts.com digitization itself — a gap in the source, not an omission made in preparing this edition.]

[4] [This footnote, on the poet-scholar Ōyōshu, is likewise missing from the sacred-texts.com digitization itself.]

Colophon

This Archival Text edition reproduces George Wm. Knox's 1892 translation The Shundai Zatsuwa (A Japanese Philosopher), read before the Asiatic Society of Japan on January 20, 1892 and published in the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, Vol. 20, Part 1, digitized by the sacred-texts.com archive and reached here through the library's local mirror of that digitization: Knox's full introduction and all five Books of his translation, complete, exactly as the mirror preserves them. Knox's own preface states that the Shundai Zatsuwa is a large book and that his translation represents perhaps half of the full Japanese text, by his own selective and acknowledged abridgment (omitting most literary criticism, poetry, military strategy, and Chinese allusions not needed for the philosophical and ethical argument) — this is a limit of the 1892 English edition itself, not a gap introduced in this transcription; "complete" here means the complete text of Knox's published translation.

The mirror's own digitizer (Christopher M. Weimer, 2002) states on the work's index page that embedded Chinese and Japanese characters throughout the footnotes were replaced with "###" placeholders in the digitization, and that some footnotes had been numbered inconsistently in the original and were renumbered by the digitizer, with some typographical errors silently corrected. Where the "###" placeholders in the source duplicated a romanized term already given in the same sentence, they have been dropped here as redundant; where they stood for a title or document name not otherwise recoverable, this edition says so in a descriptive note rather than reproducing the "###" symbol. Footnotes 3 and 4 of Book V are missing from the source digitization itself and are marked as such at their place in the text, rather than silently dropped.

For this edition, footnote markers — which in the original print journal restarted within each Book and occasionally used lettered sub-numbers (28a, 29a) for late insertions — have been renumbered sequentially within the Introduction and within each of the five Books; where a single footnote was cited more than once in a passage (as happens twice in the Introduction and once in Book IV), the same renumbered marker is repeated rather than assigned a new number. Cross-references originally given as page numbers ("p. 47 below," "see p. 43 note") have been converted to references to the relevant Book or section by name. One clear factual slip has been silently corrected: the body text as digitized gives Kyūsō's death date as "the 9th September, 1784," which would make him 126 years old; his own dates are given elsewhere as 1658–1734, and 1734 is used here. A small number of other evident scanning-era typographical slips (doubled words, dropped letters) have also been silently corrected where the intended reading was unambiguous. Site navigation and page-number markers have been stripped throughout.

Prepared for the Good Work Library by the Tianmu Anglican Church with AI-assisted research, transcription, and editorial work.

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