a high degree of æsthetic development, a certain lack of delicacy in
referring to subjects that are ruled out of conversation by cultivated
people in the West make the contrary impression upon the uninitiated.
Such language in Japan cannot be counted impure, for no such idea
accompanies the words. They must be described simply as æsthetically
defective. Far be it from me to imply that there is no impure
conversation in Japan. I only say that the particular usages to which
I refer are not necessarily a proof of moral tendency. A realistic
baldness prevails that makes no effort to conceal even that which is
in its nature unpleasant and unæsthetic. A spade is called a spade
without the slightest hesitation. Of course specific illustrations of
such a point as this are out of place. Æsthetic considerations forbid.
And how explain these unæsthetic phenomena? By the fact that Japan has
long remained in a state of primitive development. Speech is but the
verbal expression of life. Every primitive society is characterized by
a bald literalism shocking to the æsthetic sense of societies which
represent a higher stage of culture. In Japan, until recently, little
effort has been made to keep out of sight objects and acts which we of
the West have considered disagreeable and repulsive. Language alters
more slowly than acts. Laws are making changes in the latter, and they
in time will take effect in the former. But many decades will
doubtless pass before the cultivated classes of Japan will reach, in
this respect, the standard of the corresponding classes of the West.
As for the æsthetics of conduct in Japan, enough is indicated by what
has been said already concerning the æsthetics of speech. Speech and
conduct are but diverse expressions of the same inner life. Japanese
etiquette has been fashioned on the feudalistic theory of society,
with its numberless gradations of inferior and superior. Assertive
individualism, while allowed a certain range among the samurai, always
had its well-marked limits. The mass of the people were compelled to
walk a narrow line of respectful obedience and deference both in form
and speech. The constant aim of the inferior was to please the
superior. That individuals of an inferior rank had any inherent
rights, as opposed to those of a superior rank, seldom occurred to
them. Furthermore, this whole feudal system, with its characteristic
etiquette of conduct and speech, was authoritatively taught by
moralists and religious leaders, and devoutly believed by the noblest
of the land. Ethical considerations, therefore, combined powerfully
with those that were social and æsthetic to produce "the most polite
race on the face of the globe." Recent developments of rudeness and
discourtesy among themselves and toward foreigners have emphasized my
general contention that these characteristics are not due to inherent
race nature, but rather to the social order.
How are we to account for the wide æsthetic development of all classes
of the Japanese? As already suggested, the beautiful scenery explains
much. But I pass at once to the significant fact that although the
classes of Japanese society were widely differentiated in social rank,
yet they lived in close proximity to each other. There was no spatial
gulf of separation preventing the lower from knowing fully and freely
the thoughts, ideals, and customs of the upper classes. The
transmission of culture was thus an easy matter, in spite of social
gradations.
Moreover, the character of the building materials, and the methods of
construction used by the more prosperous among the people, were easily
imitated in kind, if not in costliness, by the less prosperous. Take,
for example, the structure of the room; it is always of certain fixed
proportions, that the uniform mats may be easily fitted to it. The
mats themselves are always made of a straw "toko," "bed," and an
"omote," "surface," of woven straw; they vary greatly in value, but,
of whatever grade, may always be kept neat and fresh at comparatively
small cost. The walls of the average houses are made of mud wattles.
The outer layers of plaster consist of selected earth and tinted lime.
Whether put up at large or small expense, these walls may be neat and
attractive. So, too, with other parts of the house.
The utter lack of independent thinking throughout the middle and lower
classes, and the constant desire of the inferior to imitate the
superior, have also helped to make the culture of the classes the
possession of the masses. This subserviency and spirit of imitation
has been further stimulated by the enforced courtesy and deference and
obedience of the common people.
In this connection it should be noted, however, that the universality
of culture in Japan is more apparent than real. The appearance is due
in part to the lack of furniture in the homes. Without chairs or
tables, bedsteads or washstands, and the multitude of other things
invariably found in the home of the Occidental, it is easy for the
Japanese housewife to keep her home in perfect order. No special
culture is needful for this.
How it came about that the Japanese people adopted their own method of
sitting on the feet, I cannot say; neither have I heard any plausible
explanation of the practice. Yet this habit has relieved them of all
necessity for heavy furniture. Given the custom of sitting on the
feet, and a large part of the furniture of the house will be useless.
Already is the introduction of furniture after Western patterns
producing changes in the homes of the people; and it will be
interesting to see whether the æsthetic sense of the Japanese will be
able to assimilate and harmonize with itself these useful, but bulky
and unæsthetic, elements of Occidental civilization.
That no part of the fine taste of the Japanese is due to the general
civilization, rather than to the individual possession of the æsthetic
faculty, may be inferred from many little signs. In spite of the fact
that, following the long-established social fashions, the women
usually display good taste in the choice of colors for their clothing,
it sometimes happens that they also manifest not the slightest sense
of the harmony of colors. Daughters of wealthy families will array
themselves in brilliant discordant hues, yet apparently without
causing the wearers or their friends the slightest æsthetic
discomfort. Little children are arrayed in clothing that would
doubtless put Joseph's coat of many colors quite out of countenance.
Combinations and brilliancy that to the Western eye of culture seem
crude and gaudy, typical of barbaric splendor, are in constant use,
and are apparently thought to be fine. The Japanese display both taste
and its lack in the choice of colors for clothing; this contradiction
is the more striking in view of the taste manifest in the decorations
of the homes of all classes of the people. Few sights are more
ludicrously unæsthetic than the red, yellow, and blue worsted
crocheted caps and shawls for infants, which shock all our ideas of
æsthetic harmony.
In connection with Western ways or articles of clothing, the native
æsthetic faculty often seems to take its flight. In a foreign house
many a Japanese seems to lose his sense of fitness. I have had
schoolboys, and even gentlemen, enter my home with hobnailed muddied
boots, without wiping their feet on the conspicuous door mat, which is
the more remarkable since, in their own homes, they invariably take
off their shoes on entering. I have frequently noticed that in railway
cars the first comers monopolize the seats, and the later ones receive
not the slightest notice, being often compelled to stand for an hour
at a time, although, with a little moving, there would be abundant
room for all. I have noticed this so often that I cannot think it an
exceptional occurrence. I do not believe it to be intentional
rudeness, but to be due simply to a lack of real heart politeness. Yet
a true and deep æsthetic development, so far at least as relates to
conduct, to say nothing of the spirit of altruism, would not permit
such indifference to another's discomfort.
My explanation for this, and for all similar defects in etiquette, is
somewhat as follows. Etiquette is popularly conceived as consisting of
rules of conduct, rather than as the outward expression of the state
of the heart. From time immemorial rules for the ordinary affairs of
life have been formulated by superiors and have been taught the
people. In all usual and conventional relations, therefore, the
average farmer and peasant know how to express perfect courtesy. But
in certain situations, as in foreign houses and the railroad car,
where there are no precedents to follow, or rules to obey, all
evidence of politeness takes its flight. The old rules do not fit the
new conditions. Not being grounded on the inner principles of
etiquette, the people are not able to formulate new rules for new
conditions. To the Westerner, on the other hand, these seem to follow
from the simplest principles of common sense and kindliness. The
general collapse of etiquette in Japan, which native writers note and
deplore, is due, therefore, not only to the withdrawal of feudal
pressure, but also to introduction of strange circumstances for which
the people have no rules, and to the fact that the people have not
been taught those underlying principles of high courtesy which are
applicable on all occasions.
An impression seems to have gained currency in the United States that
the unæsthetic features seen in Japan to-day are due to the debasing
influences of Western art and Occidental intercourse. There can be no
doubt that a certain type of tourist, ignorant of Japanese art, by
greedily buying strange, gaudy things at high prices, has stimulated a
morbid production of truly unæsthetic pseudo-Japanese art. But this
accounts for only a small part of the grossly inartistic features of
Japan. The instances given of hideous worsted bibs for babes and
collars for dogs, combining in the closest proximity the most
uncomplementary and mutually repellent colors, has nothing whatever to
do with foreign art or foreign intercourse. What foreigner ever
decorated a little lapdog with a red-green-yellow-blue-and purple
crocheted collar, four or five inches wide?
Westerners have been charmed with the exquisite colored photographs
produced in Japan. It is strange, yet true, that the same artistic
hand that produces these beautiful effects will also, by a slight
change of tints, produce the most unnatural and spectral views. Yet
the strangest thing is, not that he produces them, but that he does
not seem conscious of the defect, for he will put them on sale in his
own shop or send them to purchasers in America, without the slightest
apparent hesitation. The constant care of the purchaser in selection
and his insistence on having only truly artistic work are what keep
the Japanese artist up to the standard.
If other evidence is needed of æsthetic defect in the still
unoccidentalized Japanese taste let the doubter go to any popular
second-grade Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple. Here unæsthetic objects
and sights abound. Hideous idols, painted and unpainted, big and
little, often decorated with soiled bibs; decaying to-rii; ruined
sub-shrines; conglomerate piles of cast-off paraphernalia, consisting
of broken idols, old lanterns, stones, etc., filthy towels at the
holy-water basins, piously offered to the gods and piously used by
hundreds of dusty pilgrims; equally filthy bell-ropes hung in front of
the main shrines, pulled by ten thousand hands to call the attention
of the deity; travel-stained hands, each of which has left its mark on
the once beautiful enormous tasselated cord; ex-voto tufts of human
hair; scores of pictures, where the few may be counted works of art
while the rest are hideous beyond belief; frightful faces of tengu,
with their long noses and menacing teeth, decorated with scores of
spit-balls or even with mud-balls; these are some of the more
conspicuous unæsthetic features of multitudes of popular shrines and
temples. And none of these can be attributed to the debasing influence
of Western art. And these inartistic features will be found
accompanying scrupulous neatness in well-swept walks, new sub-shrines,
floral decorations, and much that pleases the eye--a strange compound
of the beautiful and the ugly. Truly the æsthetic development of the
Japanese is curiously one-sided.
A survey of Japanese musical history leads to the conclusion that
while the people are fairly developed in certain aspects of the
æsthetics of music, such as rhythm, they are certainly undeveloped in
other directions--in melody, for example, and in harmony. Their
instrumental music is primitive and meager. They have no system of
musical notation. The love of music, such as it is, is well-nigh
universal. Their solo-vocal music, a semi-chanting in minors, has
impressive elements; but these are due to the passionate outbursts and
plaintive wails, rather than to the musically æsthetic character of
the melodies. The universal twanging samisen, a species of guitar,
accompanied by the shrill, hard voices of the geisha (singing girls),
marks at once the universality of the love of music and the
undeveloped quality of the musical taste, both vocal and instrumental.
But in comparing the musical development of Japan with that of the
West, we must not forget how recent is that of the former.
The conditions which have served to develop musical taste in the West
have but recently come to Japan. Sufficient time has not yet elapsed
for the nation to make much visible progress in the lines of
Occidental music. But it has already done something. The popularity of
brass bands, the wide introduction of organs, their manufacture in
this land, their use in all public schools, the exclusive use of
Occidental music in Christian churches, the ability of trained
individuals in foreign vocal and instrumental music--all these facts
go to show that in time we may expect great musical evolution in
Japan. Those who doubt this on the ground of inherent race nature may
be reminded of the evolution which has taken place among the Hawaiians
during the past two generations. From being a race manifesting marked
deficiency in music they have developed astonishing musical taste and
ability. During a recent visit to these islands after an absence of
twenty-seven years, I attended a Sunday-school exhibition, which was
largely a musical contest; the voices were sweet and rich; and the
difficulty of the part songs, easily carried through by children and
adults, revealed a musical sense that surpasses any ordinary Sunday
school of the United States or England with which I am acquainted.
The development of Japanese literature likewise conspicuously
reflects the ruling ideas of the social order, and reveals the
dependence of literary taste on the order. As in other aspects in
Japanese æsthetic development, so in this do we see marked lack of
balance. "It is wonderful what felicity of phrase, melody of
versification, and true sentiment can be compressed within the narrow
limits (of the Tanka). In their way nothing can be more perfect than
some of these little poems."[U] The deficiencies of Japanese poetry
have been remarked by the foreigners most competent to judge. The
following general characterization from the volume just quoted merits
attention.
"Narrow in its scope and resources, it is chiefly remarkable for
its limitations--for what it has not, rather than what it has. In
the first place there are no long poems. There is nothing which
even remotely resembles an epic--no Iliad or Divina Commedia--not
even a Nibelungen Lied or Chevy Chase. Indeed, narrative poems of
any kind are short and very few, the only ones which I have met
with being two or three ballads of a sentimental cast. Didactic,
philosophical, political, and satirical poems are also
conspicuously absent. The Japanese muse does not meddle with such
subjects, and it is doubtful whether, if it did, the native Pegasus
possesses sufficient staying power for them to be dealt with
adequately. For dramatic poetry we have to wait until the
fourteenth century. Even then there are no complete dramatic poems,
but only dramas containing a certain poetical element.
"Japanese poetry is, in short, confined to lyrics, and what, for
want of a better word, may be called epigrams. It is primarily an
expression of emotion. We have amatory verse poems of longing for
home and absent dear ones, praise of love and wine, elegies on the
dead, laments over the uncertainty of life. A chief place is given
to the seasons, the sound of purling streams, the snow of Mount
Fuji, waves breaking on the beach, seaweed drifting to the shore,
the song of birds, the hum of insects, even the croaking of frogs,
the leaping of trout in a mountain stream, the young shoots of fern
in spring, the belling of deer in autumn, the red tints of the
maple, the moon, flowers, rain, wind, mist; these are among the
favorite subjects which the Japanese poets delight to dwell upon.
If we add some courtly and patriotic effusions, a vast number of
conceits more or less pretty, and a very few poems of a religious
cast, the enumeration is tolerably complete. But, as Mr.
Chamberlain has observed, there are curious omissions. War
songs--strange to say--are almost wholly absent. Fighting and
bloodshed are apparently not considered fit themes for poetry."[V]
The drama and the novel have both achieved considerable development,
yet judged from Occidental standards, they are comparatively weak and
insipid. They, of course, conspicuously reflect the characteristics of
the social order to which they belong. Critics call repeated attention
to the lack of sublimity in Japanese literature, and ascribe it to
their inherent race nature. While the lack of sublimity in Japanese
scenery may in fact account for the characteristic in question, still
a more conclusive explanation would seem to be that in the older
social order man, as such, was not known. The hidden glories of the
soul, its temptations and struggles, its defects and victories, could
not be the themes of a literature arising in a completely communal
social order, even though it possessed individualism of the Buddhistic
type.[W] These are the themes that give Western literature--poetic,
dramatic, and narrative--its opportunity for sustained power and
sublimity. They portray the inner life of the spirit.
The poverty of poetic form is another point of Western criticism. Mr.
Aston has shown how this poverty is directly due to the phonetic
characteristics of the language. Diversities of both rhyme and rhythm
are practically excluded from Japanese poetry by the nature of the
language. And this in turn has led to the "preference of the national
genius for short poems." But language is manifestly the combined
product of linguistic heredity and the social order, and can in no
sense be ascribed to inherent race nature. Thus directly are social
heredity and social order determinative of the literary
characteristics and æsthetic tastes of a nation.
Even more manifestly may Japanese architectural development be traced
to the social heredity derived from China and India. The needs of the
developing internal civilization have determined its external
manifestation. So far as Japanese differs from Chinese architecture,
it may be attributed to Japan's isolation, to the different demands of
her social order, to the difference of accessible building materials,
and to the different social heredity handed down from prehistoric
times. That the distinguishing characteristics of Japanese
architecture are due to the inherent race nature cannot for a moment
be admitted.
We conclude that the Japanese are not possessed of a unique and
inherent æsthetic taste. In some respects they are as certainly ahead
of the Occidental as they are behind him in other respects. But this,
too, is a matter of social development and social heredity, rather
than of inherent race character, of brain structure. If æsthetic
nature were a matter of inherited brain structure, it would be
impossible to account for rapid fluctuations in æsthetic judgment, for
the great inequality of æsthetic development in the different
departments of life, or for the ease of acquiring the æsthetic
development of alien races.[X]
XVI
MEMORY--IMITATION
The differences which separate the Oriental from the Occidental mind
are infinitesimal as compared with the likenesses which unite them.
This is a fact that needs to be emphasized, for many writers on Japan
seem to ignore it. They marvel at the differences. The real marvel is
that the differences are so few and so superficial. The Japanese are a
race whose ancestors were separated from their early home nearly three
thousand years ago; during this period they have been absolutely
prevented from intermarriage with the parent stock. Furthermore, that
original stock was not the Indo-European race. And no one has ventured
to suggest how long before the migration of the ancestors of the
Japanese to Japan their ancestors parted from those who finally became
the progenitors of modern Occidental peoples. For thousands of years,
certainly, the Japanese and Anglo-Saxon races have had no ancestry in
common. Yet so similar is the entire structure and working of their
minds that the psychological textbooks of the Anglo-Saxon are adopted
and perfectly understood by competent psychological students among the
Japanese. I once asked a professor of psychology in the Matsuyama
Normal School if he had no difficulty in teaching his classes the
psychological system of Anglo-Saxon thinkers, if there were not
peculiarities of the Anglo-Saxon mind which a Japanese could not
understand, and if there were not psychological phenomena of the
Japanese mind which were ignored in Anglo-Saxon psychological
text-books. The very questions surprised him; to each he gave a
negative reply. The mental differences that characterize races so
dissimilar as the Japanese and the Anglo-Saxon, I venture to repeat,
are insignificant as compared with their resemblances.
Our discussions shall have reference, not to those general
psychological characteristics which all races have in common, but only
to those which may seem to stamp the Japanese people as peculiar. We
wish to understand the distinguishing features of the Japanese mind.
We wish to know whether they are due to brain structure, to inherent
race nature, or whether they are simply the result of education, of
social heredity. This is our ever-recurring question.
First, in regard to Japanese brain development. Travelers have often
been impressed with the unusual size of the Japanese head. It has
sometimes been thought, however, that the size is more apparent than
real, and the appearance has been attributed to the relatively short
limbs of the people and to the unusual proportion of round heads which
one sees everywhere. It may also be due to the shape of the head. But,
after all has been said, it remains true that the Japanese head, as
related to his body, is unexpectedly large.
Prof. Marsh of Yale University is reported to have said that, on the
basis of brain size, the Japanese is the race best fitted to survive
in the struggle for existence, or at least in the struggle for
pre-eminence.
Statements have been widely circulated to the effect that not only
relatively to the body, but even absolutely, the Japanese possess
larger brains than the European, but craniological statistics do not
verify the assertion. The matter has been somewhat discussed in
Japanese magazines of late, to which, through the assistance of a
Japanese friend, I am indebted for the following figures. They are
given in Japanese measurements, but are, on this account, however,
none the less satisfactory for comparative purposes.