The Book of Tea
K >>
Kakuzo Okakura >> The Book of Tea
Those of us who know not the secret of properly regulating our
own existence on this tumultuous sea of foolish troubles which
we call life are constantly in a state of misery while vainly trying
to appear happy and contented. We stagger in the attempt to
keep our moral equilibrium, and see forerunners of the tempest
in every cloud that floats on the horizon. Yet there is joy and
beauty in the roll of billows as they sweep outward toward
eternity. Why not enter into their spirit, or, like Liehtse, ride
upon the hurricane itself?
He only who has lived with the beautiful can die beautifully.
The last moments of the great tea-masters were as full of
exquisite refinement as had been their lives. Seeking always
to be in harmony with the great rhythm of the universe, they
were ever prepared to enter the unknown. The "Last Tea of
Rikiu" will stand forth forever as the acme of tragic grandeur.
Long had been the friendship between Rikiu and the Taiko-
Hideyoshi, and high the estimation in which the great warrior
held the tea-master. But the friendship of a despot is ever a
dangerous honour. It was an age rife with treachery, and men
trusted not even their nearest kin. Rikiu was no servile courtier,
and had often dared to differ in argument with his fierce patron.
Taking advantage of the coldness which had for some time existed
between the Taiko and Rikiu, the enemies of the latter accused
him of being implicated in a conspiracy to poison the despot.
It was whispered to Hideyoshi that the fatal potion was to be
administered to him with a cup of the green beverage prepared
by the tea-master. With Hideyoshi suspicion was sufficient ground
for instant execution, and there was no appeal from the will of the
angry ruler. One privilege alone was granted to the condemned--
the honor of dying by his own hand.
On the day destined for his self-immolation, Rikiu invited his chief
disciples to a last tea-ceremony. Mournfully at the appointed time
the guests met at the portico. As they look into the garden path the
trees seem to shudder, and in the rustling of their leaves are heard
the whispers of homeless ghosts. Like solemn sentinels before the
gates of Hades stand the grey stone lanterns. A wave of rare incense
is wafted from the tea-room; it is the summons which bids the guests
to enter. One by one they advance and take their places. In the
tokonoma hangs a kakemon,--a wonderful writing by an ancient
monk dealing with the evanescence of all earthly things. The singing
kettle, as it boils over the brazier, sounds like some cicada pouring
forth his woes to departing summer. Soon the host enters the room.
Each in turn is served with tea, and each in turn silently drains his cup,
the host last of all. according to established etiquette, the chief guest
now asks permission to examine the tea-equipage. Rikiu places the
various articles before them, with the kakemono. After all have
expressed admiration of their beauty, Rikiu presents one of them
to each of the assembled company as a souvenir. The bowl alone
he keeps. "Never again shall this cup, polluted by the lips of
misfortune, be used by man." He speaks, and breaks the vessel
into fragments.
The ceremony is over; the guests with difficulty restraining their
tears, take their last farewell and leave the room. One only, the
nearest and dearest, is requested to remain and witness the end.
Rikiu then removes his tea-gown and carefully folds it upon the
mat, thereby disclosing the immaculate white death robe which
it had hitherto concealed. Tenderly he gazes on the shining blade
of the fatal dagger, and in exquisite verse thus addresses it:
"Welcome to thee,/ O sword of eternity!/ Through Buddha/
And through Dharuma alike/ Thou hast cleft thy way."
With a smile upon his face Rikiu passed forth into the unknown.