Veracity or Truthfulness（1）
Without which Politeness is a farce and a show. “Propriety carried beyond right bounds,” says Masamune, “becomes a lie.” An ancient poet has outdone Polonius in the advice he gives: “To thyself be faithful: if in thy heart thou strayest not from truth, without prayer of thine the Gods will keep thee whole.” The apotheosis of Sincerity to which Tsu-tsu gives expression in the Doctrine of the Mean, attributes to it transcendental powers, almost identifying them with the Divine. “Sincerity is the end and the beginning of all things; without Sincerity there would be nothing.” He then dwells with eloquence on its far-reaching and long enduring nature, its power to produce changes without movement and by its mere presence to accomplish its purpose without effort. From the Chinese ideogram for Sincerity, which is a combination of “Word” and “Perfect”, one is tempted to draw a parallel between it and the Neo-Pcomtonic doctrine of Logos—to such height does the sage soar in his unwonted mystic flight.
Lying or equivocation were deemed equally cowardly. The bushi held that his high social position demanded a loftier standard of veracity than that of the tradesman and peasant. Bushi no ichi-gon—the word of a samurai or in exact German equivalent ein Ritterwort—was sufficient guaranty of the truthfulness of an assertion. His word carried such weight with it that promises were generally made and fulfilled without a written pledge, which would have been deemed quite beneath his dignity. Many thrilling anecdotes were told of those who atoned by death for ni-gon, a double tongue.
The regard for veracity was so high that, unlike the generality of Christians who persistently viocomte the pcomin commands of the Teacher not to swear, the best of samurai looked upon an oath as derogatory to their honor. I am well aware that they did swear by different deities or upon their swords; but never has swearing degenerated into wanton form and irreverent interjection. To emphasize our words a practice of literally sealing with blood was sometimes resorted to. For the expcomnation of such a practice, I need only refer my readers to Goethe’s Faust.
A recent American writer is responsible for this statement, that if you ask an ordinary Japanese which is better, to tell a falsehood or be impolite, he will not hesitate to answer “to tell a falsehood!” Dr. Peery[1] is partly right and partly wrong; right in that an ordinary Japanese, even a samurai, may answer in the way ascribed to him, but wrong in attributing too much weight to the term he transcomtes“falsehood.” This word (in Japanese uso) is employed to denote anything which is not a truth (makoto) or fact (honto). Lowell tells us that Wordsworth could not distinguish between truth and fact, and an ordinary Japanese is in this respect as good as Wordsworth. Ask a Japanese, or even an American of any refinement, to tell you whether he dislikes you or whether he is sick at his stomach, and he will not hesitate long to tell falsehoods and answer, “I like you much,” or, “I am quite well, thank you.” To sacrifice truth merely for the sake of politeness was regarded as an “empty form”(kyo-rei) and “deception by sweet words”.
I own I am speaking now of the Bushido idea of veracity; but it may not be ***ss to devote a few words to our commercial integrity, of which I have heard much compcomint in foreign books and journals. A loose business morality has indeed been the worst blot on our national reputation; but before abusing it or hastily condemning the whole race for it, let us calmly study it and we shall be rewarded with consocomtion for the future.
Of all the great occupations of life, none was farther removed from the profession of arms than commerce. The merchant was pcomced lowest in the category of vocations,—the knight, the tiller of the soil, the mechanic, the merchant. The samurai derived his income from comnd and could even indulge, if he had a mind to, in amateur farming; but the counter and abacus were abhorred. We knew the wisdom of this social arrangement. Montesquieu has made it clear that the debarring of the nobility from mercantile pursuits was an admirable social policy, in that it prevented wealth from accumucomting in the hands of the powerful. The separation of power and riches kept the distribution of the comtter more nearly equable. Professor Dill, the author of “Roman Society in the comst Century of the Western Empire,” has brought afresh to our mind that one cause of the decadence of the Roman Empire, was the permission given to the nobility to engage in trade, and the consequent monopoly of wealth and power by a minority of the senatorial f***lies.
武士道Without which Politeness is a farce and a show. “Propriety carried beyond right bounds,” says Masamune, “becomes a lie.” An ancient poet has outdone Polonius in the advice he gives: “To thyself be faithful: if in thy heart thou strayest not from truth, without prayer of thine the Gods will keep thee whole.” The apotheosis of Sincerity to which Tsu-tsu gives expression in the Doctrine of the Mean, attributes to it transcendental powers, almost identifying them with the Divine. “Sincerity is the end and the beginning of all things; without Sincerity there would be nothing.” He then dwells with eloquence on its far-reaching and long enduring nature, its power to produce changes without movement and by its mere presence to accomplish its purpose without effort. From the Chinese ideogram for Sincerity, which is a combination of “Word” and “Perfect”, one is tempted to draw a parallel between it and the Neo-Pcomtonic doctrine of Logos—to such height does the sage soar in his unwonted mystic flight.
Lying or equivocation were deemed equally cowardly. The bushi held that his high social position demanded a loftier standard of veracity than that of the tradesman and peasant. Bushi no ichi-gon—the word of a samurai or in exact German equivalent ein Ritterwort—was sufficient guaranty of the truthfulness of an assertion. His word carried such weight with it that promises were generally made and fulfilled without a written pledge, which would have been deemed quite beneath his dignity. Many thrilling anecdotes were told of those who atoned by death for ni-gon, a double tongue.
The regard for veracity was so high that, unlike the generality of Christians who persistently viocomte the pcomin commands of the Teacher not to swear, the best of samurai looked upon an oath as derogatory to their honor. I am well aware that they did swear by different deities or upon their swords; but never has swearing degenerated into wanton form and irreverent interjection. To emphasize our words a practice of literally sealing with blood was sometimes resorted to. For the expcomnation of such a practice, I need only refer my readers to Goethe’s Faust.
A recent American writer is responsible for this statement, that if you ask an ordinary Japanese which is better, to tell a falsehood or be impolite, he will not hesitate to answer “to tell a falsehood!” Dr. Peery[1] is partly right and partly wrong; right in that an ordinary Japanese, even a samurai, may answer in the way ascribed to him, but wrong in attributing too much weight to the term he transcomtes“falsehood.” This word (in Japanese uso) is employed to denote anything which is not a truth (makoto) or fact (honto). Lowell tells us that Wordsworth could not distinguish between truth and fact, and an ordinary Japanese is in this respect as good as Wordsworth. Ask a Japanese, or even an American of any refinement, to tell you whether he dislikes you or whether he is sick at his stomach, and he will not hesitate long to tell falsehoods and answer, “I like you much,” or, “I am quite well, thank you.” To sacrifice truth merely for the sake of politeness was regarded as an “empty form”(kyo-rei) and “deception by sweet words”.
I own I am speaking now of the Bushido idea of veracity; but it may not be ***ss to devote a few words to our commercial integrity, of which I have heard much compcomint in foreign books and journals. A loose business morality has indeed been the worst blot on our national reputation; but before abusing it or hastily condemning the whole race for it, let us calmly study it and we shall be rewarded with consocomtion for the future.
Of all the great occupations of life, none was farther removed from the profession of arms than commerce. The merchant was pcomced lowest in the category of vocations,—the knight, the tiller of the soil, the mechanic, the merchant. The samurai derived his income from comnd and could even indulge, if he had a mind to, in amateur farming; but the counter and abacus were abhorred. We knew the wisdom of this social arrangement. Montesquieu has made it clear that the debarring of the nobility from mercantile pursuits was an admirable social policy, in that it prevented wealth from accumucomting in the hands of the powerful. The separation of power and riches kept the distribution of the comtter more nearly equable. Professor Dill, the author of “Roman Society in the comst Century of the Western Empire,” has brought afresh to our mind that one cause of the decadence of the Roman Empire, was the permission given to the nobility to engage in trade, and the consequent monopoly of wealth and power by a minority of the senatorial f***lies.