On the subject of beauty, one of the my favorite lines from literature is the curse of the witches in the Shakespearean tragedy masterpiece, Macbeth. When the three weird sisters utter, “Fair is foul and foul is fair” in the first scene of the play, they are not just cursing the the entire play, but they also twist the sense of aesthetics and morality of the viewers by saying that whatever seems fair or beautiful would actually be foul or ugly. Hence with the tragic hero Macbeth, though not easily perceived and understood by theater-goers and readers who analyze him on surface, his most sublime moments are actually hidden in the facade of his moral decay as the tyrant king who manned up by killing the previous king, his best friend, and eventually everything he loved. Before he is killed, in his last few moments, Shakespeare, in his subtlest manner, defends Macbeth by showing that in the end, he gave everything that his humanity could after his realization of being betrayed by the curse of the witches, his tragic flaw (ambition), and his hunger for the security of his kingship. In the end, Macbeth is beheaded and his head ends up on a stick as a reminder of how traitors should be treated. And yet his death is beautiful because his kingdom is freed from his tyranny, and ultimately, he soldiered on with all of his sense of humanity before he breathes his last.
In Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s “The Hell Screen”, we also witness a logic-defying story which explores the same askew sense of aesthetics of the witches in Macbeth. The ugly becomes a work of art and nobility transforms into monstrosity. What bewitched me in the story is not really the deaths of Yoshihide and his beautiful daughter Yuzuki; what raised my eyebrows were the horrific actions of “the Grand Lord of Horikawa, the greatest lord that Japan ever had” as advertized by the first line of the story. His trickery of using Yuzuki as the human sacrifice on the pyre was very unexpected to me; before reading this detail, I knew already that Yuzuki would most likely be the human barbecue when Yoshihide requests for an actual burning of a grand chariot---what I was actually expecting was that Yoshihide would trick his daughter and the Lord by switching the fire victim HIMSELF, thus, if he were the one who willingly chose his daughter to be burnt, he himself would be freeing her from the service of the Lord as he initially requested. Akutagawa’s decision to make the Grand Lord deceptive and cunning and the person responsible for Yuzuki’s fiery death did not make sense to me initially. But then, thinking about it after a few hours from shock and bewilderment, I realized that the story could not be effective if Yoshihide is the one who sacrificed the daughter to be burnt---his only tragic flaw of his deep and obsessive love for his daughter causes his downfall. And the totally surprising turn of events when the Grand Lord comes on top, powerful and horrifying, revered in history as stated in the first part of the story as Yoshihide is totally forgotten as expressed by the last sentence of the tale---this is pure genius and artistry in the craft of storytelling, and this is not just the ‘Japanese’ weird or odd kind of aesthetics, but I dare say, it is beautiful by any standards.
There is universal beauty and truth in what Akutagawa showed in “The Hell Screen”: humanity is obsessed with monstrosity and it is shown in our history books and even in daily newspapers. Records of wars, corruption, calamities are what we see as significant and important; the good deeds and events, however, are always put aside and eventually forgotten. What makes Akutagawa’s story thought-provoking is that he juxtaposes the long-lasting historical presence evil of our world with another obsession of humanity: art and beauty. Yoshihide, before his death, is seen as an awful human being because of his strange personality and behavior, the only time that he becomes untouched is when he is seen unparalled with his artworks. His last painting of the hell screen, with the process that it underwent, as commissioned by the Grand Lord can be symbolically read as the proof that art and beauty can also be the products of mostrosity. While artworks are preserved in history books as well, the world usually undermines their creators. And this is probably one of the ironies of Akutagawa’s story as well. While the title emphasizes the importance of the artwork, the hell screen, the story is also making the reader question his feelings for the abhorrent artist Yoshihide. While the Grand Lord is described as almost infallible and perfect, Yoshihide is the complete antithesis; it might seem that the story is unfair to him because he is described in the most unfavorable way and erased him in oblivion, but the fact that the story is narrated by an unnamed witness in Horikawa, who courageously reveals the monstrosity of the Grand Lord, the story then can be read as a hymn of remembrance and salute for the misunderstood and despised Yoshihide, who, in his abhorrent and forgotten life, becomes beautiful and enlightened in the end as the Grand Lord transformed into a “pale and livid” changed being. The foul has become fair, and the fair has become foul.
But still ironic, how even if the author tries to make Yoshihide become the main character in the story, what made the most impact on me, an unknown reader, is the Grand Lord’s very quick and abrupt moment of evil. And this is just mind-blowing. The story itself becomes the artwork and immortal like the hell screen painting, and it’s unfortunately sad that creator of this artwork or story, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, is relatively unknown to many modern day readers in the entire world. And here we are, still overshadowed and obsessed by the historical records of the monstrosities of Hitler, Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Mussolini, etc. Can Akutagawa ever reach the possibly unreachable popularity of Shakespeare? Maybe not in our lifetime.
I am in deep awe of this short story. I never thought a story about an artwork depicting hell can be the most beautiful short story I have ever read.