Treatises · Vol. 334

Treatise 91: Rites and Music I

Machine-assisted draft translation, checked for readability. For the classical Chinese text and the modern Japanese translation, see this volume in Japanese.

The origins of rites and music reach far back into antiquity. In the remote age of high antiquity, however, customs were simple and human culture had not yet opened, so that although the substance of rites and music existed, their names were not yet clear. Yet when we consult the old histories, we find that the two deities Izanagi and Izanami first made plain the way of husband and wife, gave birth to our Heavenly Ancestor (Amaterasu-Ōmikami), and ruled over the realm. The Heavenly Ancestor handed the imperial throne down to the Imperial Grandchild and made him sovereign of our country, and by this the imperial line was settled here. The many deities who assisted in the heavenly undertaking at that time likewise, grandfather to son to grandson in succession, each kept to his heavenly charge and served the Heavenly Grandchild. This was precisely how the divine sages deepened the affection between father and son, set right the duty between sovereign and subject, and established the foundation of governing the state; how, then, could it be said that this was not a great matter of ritual? From the institutions of palaces, dress, banquets, court audiences, and guard ceremonial, to the music of songs and of strings and winds, all took their origin in the Age of the Gods, and the sage emperors of successive reigns inherited them and ruled the realm. Even so, their institutions and cultural forms were of course not yet fully developed.

Among rites, what the sage emperors of successive reigns valued most highly was none other than sacrifice and worship; and of the rites of worship, none weighs more heavily than the worship of the Heavenly Ancestor. When the Heavenly Ancestor handed down the imperial throne, she entrusted her heart to the divine mirror and bestowed it upon the Imperial Grandchild, in order to show a mind that remembers its forebears. Successive sage sons and divine descendants honored and received this bequeathed teaching, enshrined the mirror on the same couch and in the same hall, and never neglected to perform the rites themselves. In revering the gods and honoring one's father there were not two ways. Down to the subjects and people, all served the Heavenly Ancestor and looked up to the Heavenly Grandchild, followed the manner in which their own forefathers had served the Heavenly Ancestor and the Imperial Grandchild, and carried on the sacrifices with utmost sincerity and good faith. The root of rites and music truly lies here. For that reason, even when the implements of rites and music, such as jade and silk, bells and drums, were not fully prepared, gods and men were in harmony and delight, calamities did not arise, customs were simple and pure, sovereign and people were affectionate and amicable, and all within the four seas were no different from one household. This was, one supposes, a foundation for ten thousand generations, why it was settled once and never shaken. It was by no means something that governed only after honoring the ruler and suppressing the subject through petty ceremonial and burdensome etiquette.

Nevertheless, the alternation of plainness and ornament is the constant way of ordering a generation, and as human culture gradually opens, decorum and implements too must inevitably be adjusted with the times so as to suit what the occasion requires. What matters is only not losing their root. From the time of Emperor Ōjin onward, culture and teaching flourished day by day, and the court's ceremonies and systems of dress must for the most part have undergone changes, but the old histories cannot give a detailed account of them. In the reign of Emperor Kōtoku, the Crown Prince assisted him, fixed the five rites, and set the various institutions in motion. By the reign of Emperor Monmu, the institutions and statutes were greatly complete. Yet when we trace their origin, what were called rites and what were called music were, for the most part, all drawn from the systems of Sui and Tang. This is what is called "taking over the vessel without knowing its meaning, forgetting the root and preserving the branch," and in the end they were not the instruments of governance and teaching of the Three Dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou. Still, the details, such as the objects and numerical rules, the manner of ascending and descending, the manner of bowing and yielding, the manner of kneeling and bending, and of prostrating and rising, though they were the business of the officials in charge, had their regulations fully in order, and that these could serve to adorn the government of the Reform may fairly be called flourishing.

The courts of successive reigns inherited these and, while following them, added to them and increased their ornament; cultural forms were brought to completion, but along with this customs and habits also changed. Although the beauty of their music and bearing had much worth seeing, the unadorned, simple spirit of the earlier ages was lost day by day. Was this not also a harm of ornament? Yet when this inheritance had lasted long, people grew accustomed to it and felt no doubt; having gone too far, they did not turn back. Even when there were those who resolved on reform, they only added to or subtracted from the old institutions a little to suit the present age. And in the end, what the court nobles and gentry (high nobles and officials) upheld as rites and music did not go beyond the realm of petty ceremony and etiquette. They stopped at the movements of dances and the tunes of melodies, and as for the great root of governing the state, they no longer even knew what it was, until at last the government of the court could no longer serve as the guiding principle for ruling the realm. While warriors wielded violent force and held provinces and districts down by arms, those who were called the "moon-ministers and cloud-guests" (court nobles and palace attendants) merely straightened their tablets and arranged their dignified bearing atop the steps of the palace, and played the zither at banquets; of what use was that to government? Rites and music collapsed above, punitive campaigns arose from below, the great authority of the realm passed entirely into the hands of armored warriors, and the disorder of the world reached its extreme. Even so, that the bells and the stands for musical instruments in the court did not shake, and the treasured implements remained as they had been, was, one thinks, because the lingering glory of the way the divine sages (the successive emperors) had governed the country still lived in the hearts of the people. Ah, how great it is!

Now, therefore, we trace their fundamental source, seek their proof in the Age of the Gods, examine their historical development, and set out their gains and losses in detail. Matters concerning the rites of sacrifice and worship have been recorded in full in the "Treatise on the Deities of Heaven and Earth" (Jingi-shi). Then, taking the great rites and lesser ceremonies from the accession and the New Year court audience (Chōga) onward, together with the articles of dress, ornament, and ceremonial regalia, and further the origins and ends of the system of music, we set them down in order in these chapters and compose the "Treatise on Rites and Music" (Reigaku-shi).