still more remote locality. But with all his precautions he never attained to Nirvana, if by that term we are to understand the holy calm of mind which is the result of long-continued meditation on divine things.
The name Kenkō, which he selected when he became a monk, is characteristic of his spiritual condition. He retained the two Chinese characters with which his lay name Kaneyoshi is written, simply altering the pronunciation to something which with a little goodwill might be allowed to stand for a Buddhist priestly designation. This is much as if a man named Oliver were to enter religion as "Brother Oliverus," instead of adopting a saint's name from the calendar.
There is much self-revelation in Kenkō's writings. The personality which they portray is not a wholly lovable one. There is something wrong about the man who abhorred matrimony (not that celibacy and chastity were with him convertible terms), thought children a mistake, and declared that after forty life was not worth living. The following anecdote, which he himself relates, throws some light on his curiously mixed character:—
"Even men from whom we should not expect much feeling sometimes say a good thing. A certain wild savage of terrible appearance, meeting a neighbour, asked him, had he any children. 'Not one,' was the reply. 'Then you cannot know the Ah-ness of things, and your doings must be with a heart devoid of feeling.' This is a very fearful saying. It is no doubt true that by children men become conscious of the Ah-ness of all things. Without the path of the natural affections how should there be any sentiment in the hearts of such persons?"
