Bushido, the Soul of Japan, by Inazo Nitobe, [1905], at sacred-texts.com
CHAPTER VI
POLITENESS
COURTESY and urbanity of manners have been noticed by every foreign
tourist as a marked Japanese trait. Politeness is a poor virtue, if it
is actuated only by a fear of offending good taste, whereas it should be
the outward manifestation of a sympathetic regard for the feelings of
others. It also implies a due regard for the fitness of things,
therefore due respect to social positions; for these latter express no
plutocratic distinctions, but were originally distinctions for actual
merit.
In its highest form, politeness almost approaches love. We may
reverently say, politeness "suffereth long, and is kind; envieth not,
vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly,
seeketh so
not her own, is not easily provoked, taketh not account of evil." Is
it any wonder that Professor Dean, in speaking of the six elements of
humanity, accords to politeness an exalted position, inasmuch as it is
the ripest fruit of social intercourse?
While thus extolling politeness, far be it from me to put it in the
front rank of virtues. If we analyse it, we shall find it correlated
with other virtues of a higher order; for what virtue stands alone?
While--or rather because--it was exalted as peculiar to the profession
of arms, and as such esteemed in a degree higher than its deserts, there
came into existence its counterfeits. Confucius himself has repeatedly
taught that external appurtenances are as little a part of propriety as
sounds are of music.
When propriety was elevated to the sine qua non of social
intercourse, it was only to be expected that an elaborate system of
etiquette should come into vogue to train youth in correct social
behaviour. How one must bow in accosting others, how he must walk and
sit,
were taught and learned with utmost care. Table manners grew to be a
science. Tea serving and drinking were raised to ceremony. A man of
education is, of course, expected to be master of all these. Very fitly
does Mr. Veblen, in his interesting book, 1 call decorum "a product and an exponent of the leisure-class life."
I have heard slighting remarks made by Europeans upon our elaborate
discipline of politeness. It has been criticised as absorbing too much
of our thought and in so far a folly to observe strict obedience to it. I
admit that there may be unnecessary niceties in ceremonious etiquette,
but whether it partakes as much of folly as the adherence to
ever-changing fashions of the West, is a question not very clear to my
mind. Even fashions I do not consider solely as freaks of vanity; on the
contrary, I look upon these as a ceaseless search of the human mind for
the beautiful. Much less do I consider elaborate ceremony as altogether
trivial; for it denotes
the result of long observation as to the most appropriate method of
achieving a certain result. If there is anything to do, there is
certainly a best way to do it, and the best way is both the most
economical and the most graceful. Mr. Spencer defines grace as the most
economical manner of motion. The tea ceremony presents certain definite
ways of manipulating a bowl, a spoon, a napkin, etc. To a novice it
looks tedious. But one soon discovers that the way prescribed is, after
all, the most saving of time and labour; in other words, the most
economical use of force,--hence, according to Spencer's dictum, the most
graceful.
The spiritual significance of social decorum--or, I might say, to
borrow from the vocabulary of the "Philosophy of Clothes," the spiritual
discipline of which etiquette and ceremony are mere outward
garments--is out of all proportion to what their appearance warrants us
in believing. I might follow the example of Mr. Spencer and trace in our
ceremonial institutions their origins and the
moral motives that gave rise to them; but that is not what I shall
endeavour to do in this book. It is the moral training involved in
strict observance of propriety, that I wish to emphasise.
I have said that etiquette was elaborated into the finest niceties,
so much so that different schools, advocating different systems, came
into existence. But they all united in the ultimate essential, and this
was put by a great exponent of the best known school of etiquette, the
Ogasawara, in the following terms: "The end of all etiquette is to so
cultivate your mind that even when you are quietly seated, not the
roughest ruffian can dare make onset on your person." It means, in other
words, that by constant exercise in correct manners, one brings all the
parts and faculties of his body into perfect order and into such
harmony with itself and its environment as to express the mastery of
spirit over the flesh. What a new and deep significance the French word biensèance 1, comes to contain.
If the promise is true that gracefulness means economy of force, then
it follows as a logical sequence that a constant practice of graceful
deportment must bring with it a reserve and storage of force. Fine
manners, therefore, mean power in repose. When the barbarian Gauls,
during the sack of Rome, burst into the assembled Senate and dared pull
the beards of the venerable Fathers, we think the old gentlemen were to
blame, inasmuch as they lacked dignity and strength of manners. Is lofty
spiritual attainment really possible through etiquette? Why not?--All
roads lead to Rome!
As an example of how the simplest thing can be made into an art and then become spiritual culture, I may take Cha-no-yu,
the tea ceremony. Tea-sipping as a fine art! Why should it not be? In
the children drawing pictures on the sand, or in the savage carving on a
rock, was the promise of a Raphael or a Michael Angelo. How much more
is the drinking of a beverage, which began with the transcendental
contemplation of a Hindoo anchorite, entitled to develop into a
handmaid of Religion and Morality? That calmness of mind, that serenity
of temper, that composure and quietness of demeanour which are the first
essentials of Cha-no-yu, are without doubt the first conditions
of right thinking and right feeling. The scrupulous cleanliness of the
little room, shut off from sight and sound of the madding crowd, is in
itself conducive to direct one's thoughts from the world. The bare
interior does not engross one's attention like the innumerable pictures
and bric-a-brac of a Western parlour; the presence of kakémono 1
calls our attention more to grace of design than to beauty of colour.
The utmost refinement of taste is the object aimed at; whereas anything
like display is banished with religious horror. The very fact that it
was invented by a contemplative recluse, in a time when wars and the
rumours of wars were incessant, is well calculated to show that this
institution was more than a pastime. Before entering the quiet
precincts of the tea-room, the company assembling to partake of the
ceremony laid aside, together with their swords, the ferocity of
battle-field or the cares of government, there to find peace and
friendship.
Cha-no-yu is more than a ceremony--it is a fine art; it is poetry, with articulate gestures for rhythms: it is a modus operandi
of soul discipline. Its greatest value lies in this last phase. Not
infrequently the other phases preponderated in the mind of its votaries,
but that does not prove that its essence was not of a spiritual nature.
Politeness will be a great acquisition, if it does no more than
impart grace to manners; but its function does not stop here. For
propriety, springing as it does from motives of benevolence and modesty,
and actuated by tender feelings toward the sensibilities of others, is
ever a graceful expression of sympathy. Its requirement is that we
should weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that rejoice.
Such didactic requirement,
when reduced into small everyday details of life, expresses itself in
little acts scarcely noticeable, or, if noticed, is, as one missionary
lady of twenty years' residence once said to me, "awfully funny." You
are out in the hot, glaring sun with no shade over you; a Japanese
acquaintance passes by; you accost him, and instantly his hat is
off--well, that is perfectly natural, but the "awfully funny"
performance is, that all the while he talks with you his parasol is down
and he stands in the glaring sun also. How foolish!--Yes, exactly so,
provided the motive were less than this: "You are in the sun; I
sympathise with you; I would willingly take you under my parasol if it
were large enough, or if we were familiarly acquainted; as I cannot
shade you, I will share your discomforts." Little acts of this kind,
equally or more amusing, are not mere gestures or conventionalities.
They are the "bodying forth" of thoughtful feelings for the comfort of
others.
Another "awfully funny" custom is dictated by our canons of Politeness; but many
superficial writers on Japan have dismissed it by simply attributing
it to the general topsy-turvyness of the nation. Every foreigner who has
observed it will confess the awkwardness he felt in making proper reply
upon the occasion. In America, when you make a gift, you sing its
praises to the recipient; in Japan we depreciate or slander it. The
underlying idea with you is, "This is a nice: gift if it were not nice I
would not dare give it to you; for it will be an insult to give you
anything but what is nice." In contrast to this, our logic runs: "You
are a nice person, and no gift is nice enough for you. You will not
accept anything I can lay at your feet except as a token of my good
will; so accept this, not for its intrinsic value, but as a token. It
will be an insult to your worth to call the best gift good enough for
you." Place the two ideas side by side, and we see that the ultimate
idea is one and the same. Neither is "awfully funny." The American
speaks of the material which makes the gift; the Japanese speaks of the
spirit which prompts the gift
It is perverse reasoning to conclude, because our sense of propriety
shows itself in all the smallest ramifications of our deportment, to
take the least important of them and uphold it as the type, and pass
judgment upon the principle itself. Which is more important, to eat or
to observe rules of propriety about eating? A Chinese sage answers, "If
you take a case where the eating is all-important, and the observing the
rules of propriety is of little importance, and compare them together,
why not merely say that the eating is of the more importance?" "Metal is
heavier than feathers," but does that saying have reference to a single
clasp of metal and a waggon-load of feathers? Take a piece of wood a
foot thick and raise it above the pinnacle of a temple, none would call
it taller than the temple. To the question, "Which is the more
important, to tell the truth or to be polite?" the Japanese are said to
give an answer diametrically opposite to what the American will
say,--but I forbear any comment until I come to speak of veracity and
sincerity.
Footnotes
52:1 Theory of the Leisure Class, N. Y., 1899, p. 46.
54:1 Etymologically, well-seatedness.
56:1 Hanging scrolls, which may be either paintings or ideograms, used for decorative purposes.
