of that gladness of liberty which we call the sense of
nationality. It is not, therefore, very surprising that India, divorced from
spontaneity by a thousand years of oppression, should have lost her place in
the world of the joy and the beauty of labour. But it is very reassuring to he
told by a competent authority that here also once, as in religion during the
era of Asoka, she evidently led the whole East, impressing her thought and
taste upon the innumerable Chinese pilgrims who visited her universities and
cave-temples, and by their means influencing the development of sculpture, painting,
and architecture in China itself, and through China in Japan.
Only those who are already deep in the problems peculiar to
Indian archæology, however, will realise the striking value of Mr. Okakura's
suggestions regarding the alleged influence of the Greeks on Indian sculpture.
Representing, as he does, the great alternative art-lineage of the world - namely,
the Chinese - Mr. Okakura is
foreign consciousness. For Mr. Okakura, in dealing with the
subject of Japanese art in the ninth century, makes it abundantly clear that
the whole mythology of the East, and not merely the personal doctrine of the
Buddha, was the subject of interchange. Not the Buddhaising but the Indianising
of the Mongolian mind, was the process actually at work - much as if
Christianity should receive in some strange land the name of Franciscanism,
from its first missioners.
It is well known that in the case of Japan the vital element in her national activity lies always in her art. Here we find, at each
period, the indication and memorial of those constituents of her consciousness
which are really essential. It is an art, unlike that of ancient Greece, in which the whole nation participates; even as in India, the whole nation combines to
elaborate the thought. The question, therefore, becomes profoundly interesting:
what is that thing,
it has been his object throughout the following pages to
show us. First understanding the conditions upon which they had to work, the
race of Yamato in Japan, the wonderful ethical genius of Northern China, and
the rich imaginativeness of the south, we watch the entrance of the stream of
Buddhism, as it proceeds to overflow and unite the whole. We follow it here, as
the first touch of the dream of a universal faith gives rise to cosmic
conceptions in science, and the Roshana Buddha in art. We watch it again as it
boils up into the intense pantheism of the Heian period, the emotionalism of
the Fujiwara, the heroic manliness of the Kamakura.
It has been by a recrudescence of Shintoism, the primitive
religion of Yamato, largely shorn of Buddhistic elements, that the greatness of
the Meiji period seems to have been accomplished. But such greatness may leave
inspiration far behind. All lovers of the East stand
dismayed at this moment before the disintegration of taste
and ideals which is coming about in consequence of competition with the West.
Therefore it is worth while to make some effort to recall
Asiatic peoples to the pursuit of those proper ends which have constituted
their greatness in the past, and are capable of bringing about its restitution.
Therefore is it of supreme value to show Asia, as Mr. Okakura does, not as the
congeries of geographical fragments that we imagined, but as a united living
organism, each part dependent on all the others, the whole breathing a single
complex life.
Aptly enough, within the last ten years, by the genius of a
wandering monk - the Swâmi Vivekânanda - who found his way to America and made
his voice heard in the Chicago Parliament of Religions in 1893, Orthodox
Hinduism has again become aggressive, as in the Asokan period. For six or