Such are the thoughts in my head as I take my seat. The young man places himself beside me, halfway down the length of the carpet.
The abbot is seated on a tiger skin, whose tail spreads past my knees while the head lies beneath the old gentleman. Al the gentleman’s hair seems to have been removed and transplanted onto his face, so that his cheeks and chin are smothered in a thick tangle of white beard. He is careful y arranging the teacups on their little saucers on the table before him.
“We have an unaccustomed guest staying, so I thought I’d take the opportunity of asking you to tea,†he says, turning to the abbot.
“Thank you for sending someone along to invite me. I haven’t gotten around to visiting for quite some time, and I was just thinking I must cal in today.†The abbot is close to sixty, with a round face and softened features reminiscent of one of those quick, freehand ink sketches of the Bodhidharma. He seems on familiar terms with the old gentleman. “This is your guest, I presume?â€
The old gentleman nods as he lifts the little red clay teapot and lets the precious greenish-amber liquid trickle two or three drops at a time into the teacups. I am pleasantly aware of its elegant aroma gently invading my nostrils.
The abbot speaks to me immediately. “You must be feeling lonely here in the countryside by yourself.â€
“Er, wel . . .†I say, unable to summon any real answer. If I say I’m lonely, it wil be a lie, but if I say I’m not, a long explanation wil be required.
“Not so, Your Reverence,†our host chimes in. “This gentleman’s come here to paint, so he’s quite busy in fact.â€
“Ah, is that so? That’s good. Would you be an artist in the Nanso School?â€1
“No,†I manage to reply this time. The abbot wouldn’t understand it if I told him I painted in the Western style, I decide.
“No, he’s in that Western style,†the old gentleman says, coming to my aid once more in his role as host.
“Ah, Western, eh? That’s the sort of thing Kyuichi does, isn’t it? I saw his work for the first time the other day. Very nicely done, I thought.â€
“No no, they’re just boring little things,†the young man protests, breaking his silence.
“So you showed the abbot one of your poor pieces, did you?†the old man inquires. Judging from his attitude and the way he speaks to the young man, they’re probably related.
“I didn’t exactly request a viewing—he came across me when I was sketching at Mirror Pool,†says Kyuichi.
“Hm, is that so? . . . Wel now, the tea is poured. Do have some,†the old man says, placing a cup before each of us. There are no more than three or four drops of tea in each, though the cups themselves are very large. The glaze is a light gray ground, daubed al over with burnt sienna and pale yel ow brushstrokes that may have been intended as a painting or merely as a pattern, reminiscent of a half-formed devil’s face.
“They’re by Mokubei,†he remarks simply.2
“They’re delightful,†I say, in equal y simple praise.
“There are a lot of fake Mokubeis around. Look at the base. You’l find his signature there.â€
I lift it up and turn it toward the paper-screened window to see. The warm shadow of a potted aspidistra fal s across the screen. Sure enough, when I twist my head to look closely at the base, I see the single smal character “Moku.†A signature is not real y important in appreciating a work of art, but dilettantes apparently set great store by it. I bring the raised cup directly to my lips. A connoisseur with time on his hands wil elegantly taste this rich, delicately sweet liquid, ripened in the precise temperature of the hot water, by letting it run one drop at a time onto the tip of the tongue. Most people believe that tea is to be drunk, but that is a mistake. If you drop it gently onto the tongue and let the pure liquid dissipate in your mouth, almost none of it remains for you to swal ow.
Rather, the exquisite fragrance travels down to permeate the regions of the stomach. Using the teeth on solid food is vulgar, while mere water is insipid. The best green tea, on the other hand, surpasses fresh water in its delicate, rich warmth, yet lacks the firmness of more solid substances that tire the jaw. Tea is, in fact, a marvelous drink. To those who spurn it on the grounds of insomnia, I say that it’s better to be deprived of sleep than of tea.
I next turn my attention to a blue stone tea-sweets dish that the old man has now produced and is passing around. It is nothing short of astonishing to consider the fine dexterity of the master craftsman who has carved such a large piece of stone to such thinness, and with such delicate precision! Spring sunlight shines through the translucent stone, seemingly captured and held there within its depths. It is right that such a plate remains empty.
“I brought this out to show our guest here. He’s been kind enough to admire my celadon, so I thought I’d bring out a few more things for him to see today.â€
“What celadon would that be?†the abbot asks. “Oh, you mean the tea-sweets dish? I’m fond of that one myself, yes. By the way, I don’t suppose Western pictures can be painted onto sliding doors, can they? If they can, then I’d like you to do me one.â€
Wel , I think, I could do it if asked, but I don’t know that it would be to the abbot’s taste. There’s no point in slaving to produce such a thing if he then declares that he doesn’t like Western painting.
“I don’t think Western painting would work for sliding doors,†I say.
“You don’t, eh? Yes, that’s true, I suppose it would be a bit garish if it’s the sort of thing I saw Kyuichi painting the other day.â€
“My paintings are terrible,†protests the youth earnestly, looking most embarrassed. “I’m just messing around.â€
“Where is that pond you were speaking of?†I ask the young man, from idle curiosity.
“It’s a lovely tranquil place, in the val ey behind Kankaiji temple. It’s just that I studied Western painting a little at school, you see, so I thought I’d stop by there and try my hand when I was feeling bored one day, that’s al .â€
“And this Kankaiji temple . . . ?â€
“That’s where I am,†the abbot breaks in. “A fine place. You can take in the whole sea at a glance from up there. Come and have a look while you’re staying. It’s only a half mile or so from here. From the corridor out there you can see the stone steps going up to it, have you noticed?â€