the colour of life-第9章

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normal　bird　and　of　the　habit　of　growth　of　a　normal　flower。　　They　are

not　in　search　of　the　perpetual　slight　novelty　which　was　Aristotle's

ideal　of　the　language　poetic　（〃a　little　wildly；　or　with　the　flower

of　the　mind；〃　says　Emerson　of　the　way　of　a　poet's　speech）　…　and　such

novelty　it　is；　like　the　frequent　pulse　of　the　pinion；　that　keeps

verse　upon　the　wing；　no；　what　the　Japanese　are　intent　upon　is

perpetual　slight　disorder。　　In　Japan　the　man　in　the　fields　has　eyes

less　for　the　sky　and　the　crescent　moon　than　for　some　stone　in　the

path；　of　which　the　asymmetry　strikes　his　curious　sense　of　pleasure

in　fortunate　accident　of　form。　　For　love　of　a　little　grotesque

strangeness　he　will　load　himself　with　the　stone　and　carry　it　home　to

his　garden。　　The　art　of　such　a　people　is　not　liberal　art；　not　the

art　of　peace；　and　not　the　art　of　humanity。　　Look　at　the　curls　and

curves　whereby　this　people　conventionally　signify　wave　or　cloud。

All　these　curls　have　an　attitude　which　is　like　that　of　a　figure

slightly　malformed；　and　not　like　that　of　a　human　body　that　is

perfect；　dominant；　and　if　bent；　bent　at　no　lowly　or　niggling　labour。

Why　these　curves　should　be　so　charming　it　would　be　hard　to　say；　they

have　an　exquisite　prankishness　of　variety；　the　place　where　the

upward　or　downward　scrolls　curl　off　from　the　main　wave　is　delicately

unexpected　every　time；　and　…　especially　in　gold　embroideries　…　is

sensitively　fit　for　the　material；　catching　and　losing　the　light；

while　the　lengths　of　waving　line　are　such　as　the　long　gold　threads

take　by　nature。



A　moment　ago　this　art　was　declared　not　human。　　And；　in　fact；　in　no

other　art　has　the　figure　suffered　such　crooked　handling。　　The

Japanese　have　generally　evaded　even　the　local　beauty　of　their　own

race　for　the　sake　of　perpetual　slight　deformity。　　Their　beauty　is

remote　from　our　sympathy　and　admiration；　and　it　is　quite　possible

that　we　might　miss　it　in　pictorial　presentation；　and　that　the

Japanese　artist　may　have　intended　human　beauty　where　we　do　not

recognise　it。　　But　if　it　is　not　easy　to　recognise；　it　is　certainly

not　difficult　to　guess　at。　　And；　accordingly；　you　are　generally

aware　that　the　separate　beauty　of　the　race；　and　its　separate

dignity；　even　…　to　be　very　generous　…　has　been　admired　by　the

Japanese　artist；　and　is　represented　here　and　there　occasionally；　in

the　figure　of　warrior　or　mousme。　　But　even　with　this　exception　the

habit　of　Japanese　figure…drawing　is　evidently　grotesque；　derisive；

and　crooked。　　It　is　curious　to　observe　that　the　search　for　slight

deformity　is　so　constant　as　to　make　use；　for　its　purposes；　not　of

action　only；　but　of　perspective　foreshortening。　　With　us　it　is　to

the　youngest　child　only　that　there　would　appear　to　be　mirth　in　the

drawing　of　a　man　who；　stooping　violently　forward；　would　seem　to　have

his　head　〃beneath　his　shoulders。〃　　The　European　child　would　not　see

fun　in　the　living　man　so　presented；　but　…　unused　to　the　same　effect

〃in　the　flat〃　…　he　thinks　it　prodigiously　humorous　in　a　drawing。

But　so　only　when　he　is　quite　young。　　The　Japanese　keeps；　apparently；

his　sense　of　this　kind　of　humour。　　It　amuses　him；　but　not　perhaps

altogether　as　it　amuses　the　child；　that　the　foreshortened　figure

should；　in　drawing　and　to　the　unpractised　eye；　seem　distorted　and

dislocated；　the　simple　Oriental　appears　to　find　more　derision　in　it

than　the　simple　child。　　The　distortion　is　not　without　a　suggestion

of　ignominy。　　And；　moreover；　the　Japanese　shows　derision；　but　not

precisely　scorn。　　He　does　not　hold　himself　superior　to　his　hideous

models。　　He　makes　free　with　them　on　equal　terms。　　He　is　familiar

with　them。



And　if　this　is　the　conviction　gathered　from　ordinary　drawings；　no

need　to　insist　upon　the　ignoble　character　of　those　that　are

intentional　caricatures。



Perhaps　the　time　has　hardly　come　for　writing　anew　the　praises　of

symmetry。　　The　world　knows　too　much　of　the　abuse　of　Greek

decoration；　and　would　be　glad　to　forget　it；　with　the　intention　of

learning　that　art　afresh　in　a　future　age　and　of　seeing　it　then　anew。

But　whatever　may　be　the　phases　of　the　arts；　there　is　the　abiding

principle　of　symmetry　in　the　body　of　man；　that　goes　erect；　like　an

upright　soul。　　Its　balance　is　equal。　　Exterior　human　symmetry　is

surely　a　curious　physiological　fact　where　there　is　no　symmetry

interiorly。　　For　the　centres　of　life　and　movement　within　the　body

are　placed　with　Oriental　inequality。　　Man　is　Greek　without　and

Japanese　within。　　But　the　absolute　symmetry　of　the　skeleton　and　of

the　beauty　and　life　that　cover　it　is　accurately　a　principle。　　It

controls；　but　not　tyrannously；　all　the　life　of　human　action。

Attitude　and　motion　disturb　perpetually；　with　infinite　incidents　…

inequalities　of　work；　war；　and　pastime；　inequalities　of　sleep　…　the

symmetry　of　man。　　Only　in　death　and　〃at　attention〃　is　that　symmetry

complete　in　attitude。　　Nevertheless；　it　rules　the　dance　and　the

battle；　and　its　rhythm　is　not　to　be　destroyed。　　All　the　more　because

this　hand　holds　the　goad　and　that　the　harrow；　this　the　shield　and

that　the　sword；　because　this　hand　rocks　the　cradle　and　that　caresses

the　unequal　heads　of　children；　is　this　rhythm　the　law；　and　grace　and

strength　are　inflections　thereof。　　All　human　movement　is　a　variation

upon　symmetry；　and　without　symmetry　it　would　not　be　variation；　it

would　be　lawless；　fortuitous；　and　as　dull　and　broadcast　as　lawless

art。　　The　order　of　inflection　that　is　not　infraction　has　been

explained　in　a　most　authoritative　sentence　of　criticism　of

literature；　a　sentence　that　should　save　the　world　the　trouble　of

some　of　its　futile；　violent；　and　weak　experiments：　〃Law；　the

rectitude　of　humanity；〃　says　Mr　Coventry　Patmore；　〃should　be　the

poet's　only　subject；　as；　from　time　immemorial；　it　has　been　the

subject　of　true　art；　though　many　a　true　artist　has　done　the　Muse's

will　and　knew　it　not。　　As　all　the　music　of　verse　arises；　not　from

infraction　but　from　inflection　of　the　law　of　the　set　metre；　so　the

greatest　poets　have　been　those　the　MODULUS　of　whose　verse　has　been

most　variously　and　delicately　inflected；　in　correspondence　with

feelings　and　passions　which　are　the　inflections　of　moral　law　in

their　theme。　　Law　puts　a　strain　upon　feeling；　and　feeling　responds

with　a　strain　upon　law。　　Furthermore；　Aristotle　says　that　the

quality　of　poetic　language　is　a　continual　SLIGHT　novelty。　　In　the

highest　poetry；　like　that　of　Milton；　these　three　modes　of

inflection；　metrical；　linguistical；　and　moral；　all　chime　together　in

praise　of　the　truer　order　of　life。〃



And　like　that　order　is　the　order　of　the　figure　of　man；　an　order　most

beautiful　and　most　secure　when　it　is　put　to　the　proof。　　That

perpetual　proof　by　perpetual　inflection　is　the　very　condition　of

life。　　Symmetry　is　a　profound；　if　disregarded　because　perpetually

inflected；　condition　of　human　life。



The　nimble　art　of　Japan　is　unessential；　it　may　come　and　go；　may

settle　or　be　fanned　away。　　It　has　life　and　it　is　not　without　law；　it

has　an　obvious　life；　and　a　less　obvious　law。　　But　with　Greece　abides

the　obvious　law　and　the　less　obvious　life：　symmetry　as　apparent　as

the　symmetry　of　the　form　of　man；　and　life　occult　like　his　unequal

heart。　　And　this　seems　to　be　the　nobler　and　the　more　perdurable

relation。







THE　ILLUSION　OF　HISTORIC　TIME







He　who　has　survived　his　childhood　intelligently　must　become

conscious　of　something　more　than　a　change　in　his　sense　of　the

present　and　in　his　apprehension　of　the　future。　　He　must　be　aware　of

no　less　a　thing　than　the　destruction　of　the　past。　　Its　events　and

empires　stand　where　they　did；　and　the　mere　relation　of　time　is　as　it

was。　　But　that　which　has　fallen　together；　has　fallen　in；　has　fallen

close；　and　lies　in　a　little　heap；　is　the　past　itself　…　time　…　the

fact　of　antiquity。



He　has　grown　into　a　smaller　world　as　he　has　grown　older。　　There　are

no　more　extremities。　　Recorded　time　has　no　more　terrors。　　The　unit

of　measure　which　he　holds　in　his　hand　has　become　in　his　eyes　a　thing

of　paltry　length。　　The　discovery　draws　in　the　annals　of　mankind。　　He

had　thought　them　to　be　wide。



For　a　man　has　nothing　whereby　to　order　and　place　the　floods；　the

states；　the　conquests；　and　the　temples　of　the　past；　except　only　the

measure　which　he　holds。　　Call　that　measure　a　space　of　ten　years。

His　first　ten　years　had　given　him　the　illusion　of　a　most　august

scale　and　measure。　　It　was　then　that　he　conceived　Antiquity。　　But

now！　　Is　it　to　a　decade　of　ten　such　little　years　as　these　now　in　his

hand　…　ten　of　his　mature　years　…　that　men　give　the　dignity　of　a

century？　　They　call　it　an　age；　but　what　if　life　shows　now　so　small

that　the　word　age　has　lost　its　gravity？



In　fact；　when　a　child　begins　to　know　that　there　is　a　past；　he　has　a

most　noble　rod　to　measure　it　by　…　he　has　his　own　ten　years。　　He

attributes　an　overwhelming　majesty　to　all　recorded　time。　　He　confers

distance。　　He；　and　he　alone；　bestows　mystery。　　Remoteness　is　his。

He　creates　more　than　mortal　centuries。　　He　sends　armies　fighting

into　the　extremities　of　the　past。　　He　assigns　the　Parthenon　to　a

hill　of　ages；　and　the　temples　of　Upper　Egypt　to　sidereal　time。



If　there　were　no　child；　there　would　be　nothing　old。　　He；　having

conceived　old　time；　communicates　a　remembrance　at　least　of　the

mystery　to　the　mind　of　the　man。　　The　man　perceives　at　last　all　the

illusion；　but　he　cannot　forget　what　was　his　conviction　when　he　was　a

child。　　He　had　once　a　persuasion　of　Antiquity。　　And　this　is　not　for

nothing。　　The　enormous　undeception　that　comes　upon　him　still　leaves

spaces　in　his　mind。



But　the　undeception　is　rude　work。　　The　man　receives　successive

shocks。　　It　is　as　though　one　strained　level　eyes　towards　the

horizon；　and　then　were　bidden　to　shorten　his　sight　and　to　close　his

search　within　a　poor　half　acre　before　his　face。　　Now；　it　is　that　he

suddenly　perceives　the　hitherto　remote；　remote　youth　of　his　own

parents　to　have　been　something　familiarly　near；　so　measured　by　his

new　standard；　again；　it　is　the　coming　of　Attila　that　is　displaced。

Those　ten　last　years　of　his　have　corrected　the　world。　　There　needs

no　other　rod　than　that　ten　years'　rod　to　chastise　all　the

imaginations　of　the　spirit　of　man。　　It　makes　history　skip。



To　have　lived　through　any　appreciable　part　of　any　century　is　to　hold

thenceforth　a　mere　century　cheap　enough。　　But；　it　may　be　said；　the

mystery　of　change　remains。　　Nay；　it　does　not。　　Change　that　trudges

through　our　own　world　…　our　contemporary　world　…　is　not　very

mysterious。　　We　perceive　its　pace；　it　is　a　jog…trot。　　Even　so；　we

now　consider；　jolted　the　changes　of　the　past；　with　the　same　hurry。



The　man；　therefore；　who　has　intelligently　ceased　to　be　a　child　scans

through　a　shortened　avenue　the　reaches　of　the　past。　　He　marvels　that

he　was　so　deceived。　　For　it　was　a　very　deception。　　If　the　Argonauts；

for　instance；　had　been　children；　it　would　have　been　well　enough　for

the　child　to　measure　their　remoteness　and　their　a