Japanese Prints

A man who would follow the world must first of all be a judge of moods, for untimely speeches will offend the ears and hurt the feelings of others, and so fail in their purpose. He has to beware of such occasions.

But falling sick, and bearing children, and dying - these things alone take no account of moods. They do not cease because they are untimely. The shifting change of birth, life, sickness and death, the real great matters, is like the surging flow of a fierce torrent. It delays not for an instant, but straightway pursues its course.

And so, for both priest and layman, there must be no talk of moods in things they must needs accomplish. They must be free from this care and that, they must not let their feet linger.

It does not turn to summer after spring has closed, nor does the fall come when the summer ends. The spring betimes puts on a summer air, already in the summer is the fall abroad, and anon the fall grows cold. In the tenth month comes a brief space of spring weather. Grass grows green, plum blossoms bud. So with the falling of leaves from the trees. It is not that the trees bud once the leaves have fallen, but, because they are budding from beneath, the leaves unable to withstand the strain perforce must fall. An onward-urging influence is at work within, so that stage presses on stage with exceeding haste.

This again is exceeded by the changes of birth, age, sickness and death. The four seasons have still an appointed order. The hour of death waits for no order. Death does not even come from the front. It is ever pressing on from behind. All men know of death, but they do not expect it of a sudden, and it comes upon them unawares. So, though the dry flats extend far out, anon the tide comes and floods the strand.

A certain person has said, that accomplishments in which skill is not attained by the age of fifty should be abandoned. Their zealous study will bring them to no goal. People cannot laugh at an old man, and for him to mix with the multitude is a pitiful and
unpleasant sight.

It is better altogether, and more seemly, to give up all tasks and be at leisure. He is of low understanding who spends a whole life irked by common worldly matters. If there is a thing you feel is desirable, then, though you may have it taught you, it is well to withdraw when once, knowing the substance thereof, you are no longer in darkness. But to withdraw without having had any desire from the first - that is best of all.

It was he who, taking shelter from the rain in the gateway of the Toji temple where a number of cripples were assembled, and seeing that they were all deformed in various ways, some with arms and legs bent, some twisted, some turned backward, thought to himself, ‘They are, every one, singular freaks, By all means, they must be cherished.’ But as he gazed at them, soon the feeling of interest wore off, and he began to find them ugly and loathsome, and thought, ‘There is nothing like that which is simple and ordinary.’ When he returned home, though hitherto he had been fond of dwarf trees in pots, and used to seek those out that were strangely bent and twisted to rejoice his eyes, he now felt that their charm was gone, that it was like being fond of yonder cripples, so he pulled up and threw away all his trees that were planted in pots. This must have been the case.

The haze in the air, early morning mist, is a frequent motif in Harunobu works.

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“Were we to live on for ever - were the dews of Adashino never to vanish, the smoke on Toribeyama never to fade away then indeed would men not feel the pity of things.

Truly the beauty of life is its uncertainty. Of all living things, none lives so long as man. Consider how the ephemera awaits the fall of evening, and the summer cicada knows neither spring nor autumn. Even a year of life lived peacefully seems long and happy beyond compare; but for such as never weary of this world and are loth to die, a thousand years would pass away like the dream of a single night.

What shall it avail a man to drag out till he becomes decrepit and unsightly a life which some day needs must end. Long life brings many shames. At most before his fortieth year is full it is seemly for a man to die.

After that age it is pitiful to see how, unashamed of his looks, he loves to thrust himself into the society of others, and cherishing his offspring in the evening of his days, craves to live on and on that he may watch them grow and prosper. So he continues, his heart set on naught but willingness, and hardening to the pity of things.” Yoshida Kenko, Essays in Idleness, #7

Wanton and heedless must one hold those who, forgetting this benevolent rule of the great ones of old, reckless of the people’s sorrow and the country’s harm, delight to exhaust all forms of luxury, and live withal cramped by their own magnificence. In Lord Kujo’s admonitions to his descendants it is written, ‘From your headdress and your garments to your horse and your carriage, be content with what you have, and do not seek for elegance and splendor.’ So, in his august writings on palace affairs, Emperor Juntoku says, ‘In all things for the emperor’s use plainness is desirable.’