learned as a part of everyday etiquette, but later they become the spontaneous expression of feelings. Thus, in taking leave of one’s host after a party one had to apologize for one’s bad behaviour, and thus when viewing the falling cherry-blossoms or foam on the water, one had to utter exclamations on the brevity of life. A pattern of behaviour was developed which all but cancelled out individual preferences. This gives a certain ornamental flatness to the people of history and fiction. We are perhaps most aware of this quality in the plays, where there is no real attempt at characterization. There is nothing in the personalities of the heroes of Chikamatsu’s plays to distinguish them one from the other. Given the different set of circumstances, they would behave in exactly the same manner as their counterparts in other plays. In poetry too the prevailing note is one of impersonality, rather than that of the romantic cry from the poet’s heart. The reluctance to use the word “I” may remind us of our own Augustan poets, but the subjects of the poetry, unlike the general truths of the Essay on Man, are brief flashes of perception and would seem to us to require a greater personal touch. In the long centuries between Lady Murasaki’s day and the late nineteenth century, there is seldom a voice that speaks to us with a truly personal note.
The blame for this situation may be laid on the feudal society and its dictates, but it should not be imagined, however, that Japanese writers were impatiently waiting for a liberation so that they might express their pent-up individual sentiments. As Tsubouchi indicated, complex emotional reactions could be developed only along with other Western accomplishments. And though it was relatively easy for poets to write stanzas of irregular lengths instead of the tanka or for novelists to turn from the style of their predecessors in favour of works closely approaching European realism, the expression or creation of
