A History of Japanese Literature/Book 6/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Hirata—Kangakusha—Shingaku Sermons—Buddhist Literature
The eminent theologian Hirata Atsutane[1](1776–1843) was born in Kubota, a town of the remote province of Dewa. His parents belonged to the Samurai class, and he traced his genealogy on the father's side through the Mikado Kwammu, up to the Sun Goddess herself. In his youth he followed the usual course of instruction in the Chinese classics, and had also made fair progress in the study of medicine, when, at the age of nineteen, he suddenly made up his mind to run away from home. He left a paper behind in which he informed his parents of this resolution, and set out for Yedo with one rio in his pocket. On arriving in the capital he applied for help neither to the officials of his province nor to private friends, but sought an upright and virtuous teacher under whose guidance he might devote himself to learning. For four or five years he lived from hand to mouth, having sometimes to resort to manual labour for a livelihood. In 1800 he was adopted by a Samurai of the Matsuyama Daimiate, and his position thus became assured. The following year he first became acquainted with Motoöri's writings. This led him to give himself up entirely to the study of Japanese antiquity.
His first published work, a criticism of a treatise by the famous Kangakusha, Dazai Shuntai, was written two years later. In 1804 he began to take pupils, and from this time forward not a year passed without some publication by him. He also practised as a physician. In 1808 he was sent on a mission to instruct certain Shinto official guardians in the principles of the old faith, and acquitted himself with credit of this duty. In 1811 he retired to Suruga, where he composed the Seibun, which was the most important work he had yet written. In 1822 the Abbot of Uyeno (an Imperial prince) asked for a copy of his works, and sent him a handsome present in return. This led subsequently to his visiting Kiōto, and having his work brought to the notice of the Mikado and his court. Some of his later writings gave offence to the Shōgun's Government, and in 1841 he was ordered to return to his native province and to publish nothing more. He at once started from Yedo and proceeded to Akita. The arrival of the distinguished scholar caused no little excitement in that remote place. His contemporary relations were mostly dead, but he was welcomed by numerous nephews and other younger branches of the family. The social duties thus imposed upon him, together with the demands upon his skill as a physician, soon wore out his strength. He died two years later at the age of sixty-seven.
That in view of their own interests the Shōgun's Government were perfectly right to put a stop to Hirata's career is not to be doubted. The attention drawn by his writings to the divine descent of the Mikados, and their unquestioned and unquestionable claim to be considered the de jure sovereigns of Japan, was tending slowly but surely to sap the authority of the de facto rulers. It was, however, a little late in the day for them to interfere. Nothing could undo the work of nearly forty years of assiduous propagation of his views both through the press and by vivâ voce lectures to his hundreds of disciples. His published works amount to several hundred volumes. It is impossible to notice more than a very few of them here.
The Kishin Shinron (1805), or "New Treatise on the Gods," is a characteristic specimen of Hirata's writings He here combats the rationalistic theories of the Kangakusha by proving, or attempting to prove, that the ancient Chinese believed in a real God called Shangti or Tien,[2] who dwells in heaven, and guides the affairs of this world but whom the Sung schoolmen endeavoured to explain away as a mere allegory, attributing all phenomena to the action of principles without life which they called Yin and Yang (Positive and Negative Principles of Nature). "But how," argues Hirata, "can there be action without life? Certainly the existence of activity presupposes a living God from whom it proceeds."
"In this connection," Hirata goes on to say, "I will relate a story. Of late some people have introduced the learning of a country called Holland. It has found a good number of students here in Great Yedo. It may be true, as I am told, that the men of this country are fond of examining profoundly the principles of things. Among other inventions they have a machine called 'electer,' which they say is constructed by an application of the principles of thunder and lightning. I saw this machine some years ago. [Here follows a description of the electric machine and its operation.] The friend who showed it to me said, 'Thunder and lightning are caused truly by this same principle. Why, then, should we fear them? The reason why some people dread them so much is that they do not understand their principle. This is very foolish.' 'Verily,' replied I, 'this is an admirably constructed machine. Whether the actual thunder and lightning are really of the same nature is a matter on which I am unable to form an opinion. But supposing that to be the case, is not the production of lightning [the electric spark] by it dependent upon you and me and our friend, one holding one thing, another another, while the third turns a handle? Well, then, the same principle applies to the real thunder and lightning of the universe. It cannot be produced without the action of something corresponding to you and me. Moreover, this machine, made by the skill of man, is merely a small engine, entirely subject to our control, and so there is no need to fear it. But the real thunder rages among the clouds, turning them to confusion, or, leaving them, comes down to earth and indiscriminately splits trees or grinds rocks to powder. It may be thought a thing of no feeling, yet there are frequent instances in history of evil things and wicked men having been destroyed by it.'"
Mutatis mutandis, is not this precisely the position taken up by Paley in his well-known apologue of the watch?
The conversation ended in a hot discussion, in which both parties lost their tempers. Hirata saw no prospect of convincing his opponent, and returned home.
Good and evil, according to Hirata, flow from the action of two classes of deities, each of whom has his or her own particular function. But deities are, after all, like men. None are wholly bad or wholly good. A benevolent deity, if angered, may send a curse, and an evil deity, on the other hand, may occasionally dispense blessings. Moreover, an action of the gods which is indifferent in itself may be good or bad, according to the object affected. The hot sun, which delights the cicada, scorches the worm.
The efficacy of prayer and the nature of sacrifices are next discussed.
To the question, "Is a pious Shinto believer to worship Buddha?" Hirata replies in the affirmative. He quotes a verse of Motoöri's to the effect that "Shaka and Confucius are also Kami [gods], and their way is a branch of the way of the Kami." That this is really the case is proved, he says, by the Buddhist miracles which have been worked in Japan as in other countries. Moreover, everything which takes place in this world being ordered by the Kami, Buddhism too must be in accordance with their will. Hirata, in short, wants to turn the tables on the Buddhists, and, in revenge for their giving the Shinto deities a subordinate place in their theological system, proposes to make Buddha a sort of inferior Kami.
Hirata believed in the immortality of the soul, and takes pains to prove that Confucius did so also. "If the dead are non-existent," he argues, "what meaning can there be in the worship of ancestors, and how shall we account for the undoubted fact that dead men send curses upon those who have injured them while alive?"
The Koshi Seibun, which with its dependent works the Koshi-chō and Koshi-den constitute Hirata's chief claim to a reputation for learning, was begun in 1812. It is an attempt to harmonise the myths of the Kojiki, Nihongi, and other ancient books in a continuous and consistent narrative, written in the archaic dialect of the Kojiki. As these old stories differ very considerably among themselves, Hirata was naturally obliged to do them violence in order to make them agree, and scholars will prefer to go to his originals rather than accept his version of them. A higher value attaches to the Koshi-chō (eleven volumes, 1819), in which he gives an account of the authorities for the text of the Seibun; but his greatest contribution to our knowledge of Japanese antiquity is the Koshi-den, a commentary on the Seibun, in twenty-eight volumes, begun in 1812, but never completed. It covers only 143 sections of the 165 of which the Seibun consists. The Koshi-den stands next after Motoöri's Kojiki-den as a monument of Japanese old-world learning. It is indispensable to the student of Shinto.
The Tamadasuki (ten volumes) was composed originally in 1811, in a colloquial style, and rewritten in the literary dialect in 1824. It is a sort of breviary containing a set of prayers addressed to the very numerous deities of Shinto, intended, however, not for temple but for individual use. The prayers are accompanied by a considerable and very heterogeneous mass of commentary.
The Kodō Tai-i, or "Summary of the Ancient Way" (two volumes, 1811), states the principles of the Shinto religion in easy language and in a brief and intelligible form. It is very clearly printed, and forms an excellent introduction to the study of Shinto in its native language.
Hirata also published summaries of Chinese learning, of Buddhism, of the art of medicine (chiefly from the point of view of its divine origin), of the art of poetry, and of the vulgar Shinto, with other works far too numerous even to mention.
A professed disciple of Motoöri, Hirata was more exclusively a theologian than his master. All his works were intended either directly or indirectly to promote a belief in Shinto, which in his hands assumed a far more definite and tangible character than it had ever done before. Consciously or unconsciously, he added to it several new features, such as the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, and a moral code purloined from the stores of the detested Kangakusha. Thus he says: "Devotion to the memory of ancestors is the mainspring of all virtue. No one who discharges his duty to them will ever be disrespectful to the gods or to his living parents. Such a man will also be faithful to his prince, loyal to his friends, and kind and gentle, with his wife and children. For the essence of this devotion is in truth filial piety. These truths are confirmed [!] by the books of the Chinese, who say that the 'loyal subject issues from the gate of the pious son,' and again, 'filial piety is the basis of all good actions.'"
Hirata's writings have no high value from a purely literary point of view. The native History of Literature dismisses him in a few contemptuous sentences. His literary style is more useful than elegant. It is formed on the Wabun of Motoöri; but he is much less of a purist than his master, and does not reject useful words simply because they come from China. His style has gained thereby in vigour and conciseness, but it falls far behind that of Motoöri in distinction and charm.
A certain number of his less important works are in the colloquial dialect. They consist of lectures taken down by his students just as they were delivered. Two little works on Buddhism, named Godōben and Shutsujō Shōgo, belong to this class. In them Hirata has undertaken the easy task of ridiculing popular Buddhism in Japan. They are racy and entertaining diatribes, but, it must be added, are disgraced by scurrilous abuse quite unworthy of the would-be founder of a new form of religion.
There is not much to be said of the Kangakusha who wrote in the Japanese language during the nineteenth century. Among them, Ōhashi Junzō (1816–1862) has left a certain reputation as one of the most determined opponents of the policy which led to the opening of Japan to foreign trade in 1859. His chief work, the Heki-ja-shō-ron, which is a violent and ignorant attack upon the moral and philosophical ideas of Europe, was written to promote this object. It was published in 1857. The character of its contents may be gathered from the headings, "Europe knows not philosophy," "Europe knows not heaven," "Europe knows not benevolence and righteousness," "Europe knows not versatile talent." He also wrote a history of the Tartar invasion of Japan, entitled Genkō Kiriaku (1853).
Junzō did not confine himself to attacking European learning in his writings. He took part in the anti-foreign agitation which culminated in the murder of Andō Tsushima no Kami in February 1862. He was arrested, thrown into prison, and examined under torture, but succeeded in satisfying his judges that he was not directly implicated in this crime. Exhausted by his sufferings, he died five days after his release from prison.
As Buddhism absorbed Shinto, and as Hirata, on behalf of the latter religion, proposed to admit Buddha and his saints to a humble place in the native assemblage of deities, so the Shingaku movement was an attempt to utilise both religions in the interests of Chinese philosophy and ethics. The preachers of this school professed to combine the teachings of all three faiths, and they spoke with something more than tolerance of Buddhism and Shinto; but they were at heart rationalists, to whom much in the popular presentation of both these religions must have appeared utterly unworthy of credence. They tried, however, to smooth over matters by introducing the proviso that everything in them which is irreconcilable with reason is to be regarded as hōben. This hōben is a word of great virtue. It is quite inoffensive, and embraces everything which, though not strictly in accordance with fact, tends to edification. It is alike applicable to the parables of the Gospels, the lives of the saints, and even to the Neapolitan miracle of the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius. To the tolerant minds of the Shingaku preachers the use of any weapon which was likely to be useful in that struggle between the powers of light and darkness which goes on in Japan, as elsewhere, was not only permissible, but laudable, and even imperative. That it might have been taken from the armoury of the enemy was with them a very minor consideration.
Practically, the maxims of Confucius and Mencius are the sources of the Shingaku doctrines. The preachers usually take their texts from the writings of one of these two sages. They address themselves to the ignorant, and more especially to women and children, and their language is the ordinary colloquial speech of Kiōto and Ōsaka. Works of this kind are much despised in Japan by the learned, who look upon the language of ordinary life as quite unfitted for literature. These discourses, however, are not without merit; the style is homely, but vigorous and direct, and they are admirably suited to arouse the minds of the ignorant to some sense of the cardinal truths which underlie all systems of morality.
The best are the collections entitled Kiuō Dōwa, Shingaku Dōwa, and Teshima Dōwa. Of these the Kiuō Dōwa is undoubtedly the most amusing. Indeed, it may safely be said that few more entertaining sermons are to be found anywhere. But the reader must not be squeamish. For although of unexceptionable morality, and addressed virginibus puerisque, the stories and illustrations with which this and others of these collections abound are frequently of a very Rabelaisian character. The Shingaku Dōwa is somewhat more scrupulous in this respect, and reaches a higher level in every other way except that it is unfortunately less amusing.
Three sermons from the Kiuō Dōwa have been translated by Mr. Mitford in his Tales of Old Japan. One of these, comprising the original text, notes, a romanised version, and an English translation, was published by the late J. O'Neill as a First Japanese Book.
The Shingaku movement received a good deal of official support and countenance, and attracted much public attention, during the first half of the nineteenth century; but it is not surprising that it ultimately proved abortive. The attempt to reconcile three such conflicting elements as Buddhism, Shinto, and Confucianism was in reality hopeless.
The Buddhist literature of Japan forms a separate subject, which I shall not attempt to deal with. Most of it is in the Chinese language, and that part which is in Japanese is not very important as literature. It consists chiefly of lives of the Buddhist saints, and of edifying tracts and stories all addressed to the more ignorant classes, and highly seasoned with a thaumaturgic element.
- ↑ For a full account of Hirata and his theology, I would again refer the reader to Sir E. Satow's "Revival of Pure Shinto," in the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, 1875.
- ↑ In Japanese Ten