We went down stream in a river boat, with Kyuichi-san, to see him off
at Yoshida railway station. There were in the boat, beside Kuichi-san,
the old man, Shiota, his erratic daughter, Nami-san, her brother,
myself, and also Gembey, who took care of Kyuichi’s luggage. I joined
the party only to make up the company. I did not quite understand why
I should be invited to do so, but being out on an unhuman wandering,
there was no need to be scrupulous and so I also went. The boat had
a flat bottom, as if built on a raft. The old man sat in the centre,
Nami-san and I in front of him, Kyuichi and Nami-san’s brother behind
him, and Gembey by himself with the luggage in the stern.
“Are you fond of War?” asked Nami-san.
“I shan’t be able to tell until I am in it. There may be times I may
find it very hard; but at others I may be jolly about it,” answered
Kyuichi, who had never before been to war.
“However hard, you must know that it is for the state and your
country,” commented the old man.
“With such a war-like thing as a dagger given you, don’t you wish to
begin fighting?” asked Nami-san in her cynical way.
“That may be, but....”
The light response made the old man laugh shaking his beard, while his
son looked as if he heard nothing.
“Do you mean to say that you can go and fight in battle with such an
indifferent mind?” pressed Nami-san, holding her pretty face before
Kyuichi, whose eyes met those of Nami-san’s brother at the same instant.
“I am sure Nami-san would make a grand warrior, if she became one,”
came from the woman’s brother, as the very first word spoken to her in
the boat. Judging from the tone in which it was said, one might have
suspected that it was not meant to be merely a joke.
“I? I become a soldier? If I could, I would have become one long ago. I
would have been dead by this time. Kyuichi-san you had better make up
your mind to be killed. You would gain nothing by coming home alive.”
“Come, now, no more of your raving.... You must come home in triumph,
nephew, dying is not the only way to serve the country. I am good
for three or four years more yet. We will again meet in joy.”
The old gentleman’s word tapered and softened till they melted into
unseen tears, which he concealed from us. Kyuichi said nothing; but
turned his eyes toward the left bank of the river, where they met those
of a man with a rod and line before him. It was fortunate that the
angler did not ask Kyuichi why he looked so sad.
Our boat glided down with delightful smoothness, the willow trees on
the embankments on either side, flitting backward as rustic airs came
wafting, probably from the young damsels at the weaving machines in
houses little yonder, gently stirring the silence of the calm Spring
afternoon.
“Sensei, won’t you paint my picture?” demanded Nami-san, as her brother
and Kyuichi were engrossed in soldiery topics, while the old gentleman
had started journeying to dreamland.
“Why, with pleasure,” I answered, taking out my sketch book and writing
down in it:
“Harukazeni sora toke shusuno meiwa nani?”(q)
Nami-san curtsied, smiling, and said: “Not a single stroke sketch
like this, but a carefully executed production, giving expression
to my spirit and character, Sensei.”
♦ “courtesied” replaced with “curtsied”
“I wish I could oblige you with all my heart; but to be frank, your
face, as it is, would not make a picture.”
“Thanks for your compliments. But what am I to do to make myself fit
for a picture?”
“Don’t get angry, O-Nami-san; I can make a fine picture of you at this
very moment. But there is something wanting in your expression, and it
will be a great pity to portray you without that something.”
“Something wanting? That cannot be helped, as I cannot be anything else
but what I am born with.”
“You may be born with; but the face may look in all sorts of ways.”
“At your own pleasure?”
“Yes.”
“The idea! Don’t you make a fool of me, because you think I am only a
woman.”
“Why, now I say all this, because you are a woman.”
“Eh? Show me, then, Sensei, how you can make your face look in all
sorts of ways.”
“You have seen enough of me of being made to look in all sorts of
ways day after day.”
Nami-san said no more, but turned the other way. The embankments had
disappeared, the river-sides being now almost level with the surface
of the stream. The rice growing low-lands on either side, which had
not yet been ploughed, had turned into a sea of rouge, with the wild
red milk-vetch in full bloom. The pink sea stretched limitlessly till
it was swallowed up in the distant haze. The eyes that followed up
the haze, saw a high peak, half way up which, a soft, dreamy cloud of
Spring was issuing.
“That is the mountain the rear of which you scaled in coming up to
Nakoi, Sensei,” said Nami-san, as her fair hand pointed toward the
mountain that towered into the sky like a vision of Spring.
“Is the ‘Hobgoblin Cliff’ about there?”
“You see that purple spot under that deep green?”
“That shaded place, you mean?”
“Is it a shaded place? It must be a bared patch.”
“No, it must be a hollow; a bared patch would look more brown.”
“That may be. Anyhow, the rock is said to be about there.”
“Then the ‘Seven Bends’ must be a little to the left.”
“No, the Seven Bends is a good bit further away, it being in another
mountain, which is beyond that one.”
“That is so; but it must be in the direction, where a light sheet of
cloud is hanging.”
“Yes, in that direction, Sensei.”
The old man’s arm resting on the side of the boat slipped, and that
awoke him. He asked if the destination had not been reached, and he
gave himself up to yawning, which act took the shape of putting out the
chest, bending the doubled right elbow backward, and stretching the
left arm full length forward, in short going through a form of archery.
Nami-san burst out laughing.
“This is my way....”
“You must be fond of archery,” I said laughing.
The aged spa-hotel man volunteered to tell me that he made only a toy
of ordinary bows in his days, and his arms were pretty sure even in his
old age, patting his left shoulder as he said this. Talk of war was at
its height behind him.
Our boat was now fast reaching its destination, the vetch adorned field
having given way to rows of houses, then to lumber yards, shops,
eating houses and so on. Swallows flitted over the stream, and ducks
quacked in the water. In no time we got out of our boat and headed for
the railway station.
I was at last dragged back into the living world. I call it the living
world, where railway trains may be seen. I am of opinion that there
is nothing else that represents the twentieth century civilization
so truly as the railway train. It packs hundreds of people in a box,
and they have no choice but to be transported all at the same uniform
speed, in complete disregard of individuality. The twentieth century
strives to develop individuality to its utmost, and then goes about
crushing this individuality in every conceivable way, saying you are
free in this lot of so many by so many feet, but that you must not
set a foot outside the encircling fence, as in the case of railway
train prisoners. But the iron fence is unbearably galling to all with
any sense of individuality, and they are all roaring for liberty, day
and night. Civilization gives men liberty and makes them strong as a
tiger. It then entraps and keeps them encaged. It calls this peace.
But this is not a real peace. It is a peace like that of the tiger in
the menagerie, which is lying quietly as he looks calmly over the
crowd that gathers round his cage. Let a single bar of the cage be out
of its place and darkness will descend on the earth. A second French
Revolution will then break out. Individual revolutions are even now
breaking out. Ibsen has given us instances of the way in which this
revolution will burst forth. However, this opinion of railway train can
hardly embellish my sketch book, and still less may I impart it openly
to others. So I kept my peace and joined my companions in stopping at a
refreshment room in front of the railway station.
There were two countrymen in their straw sandals, sitting on stools
near us, one of them wrapped in a red blanket, and the other wearing
a pair of old fashioned native trousers of diverse colours, with one
of his hands over the largest patch, which made the combination of
variegation of black, red, yellow particularly conspicuous.
One of them was saying: “No good, after all, eh?”
“No, not a bit good.”
“Pity that man is not given two stomachs like the bovine.”
“All would be well if we had two. Why, all you have to do, then,
will be to cut out one of them if it goes wrong.”
I thought the countrymen, at least one of them, must be a victim of
stomach trouble. They know not even the smell of winds howling over the
Manchurian battlefield. They see nothing wrong in modern civilization.
They probably know not what revolution means, having never heard even
the word itself. They are perhaps, not quite sure that they have got
one or two stomachs in them. I took out my book and sketched them.
Clang, clang went the bell at the station. The ticket had already been
bought for Kyuichi with the platform tickets.
“Now let us go,” says Nami-san standing up.
“All right,” joined the old gentleman, suiting his action to his words,
and we trooped out of the refreshment room, into the station, then past
the wicket to the platform. The bell was ringing.
The monster snake of civilization came rumbling into the station,
gliding over the shining rails. The snake was puffing black smoke from
its mouth.
“Now be good,” said old Mr. Shiota.
“Good-bye,” returned Kyuichi-san bowing his head.
“Go and meet your death,” says cynical Nami-san again.
The snake stopped in front of us and many doors on its side opened.
Many people came out and many went in, Kyuichi being one of the latter.
The old gentleman, Nami-san’s brother, Nami-san, and I, all stood near
the edge of the platform.
Once the wheels turned, Kyuichi-san would no more be one of “our”
world, but would be going to far, far away country, where men are
struggling among the fumes of smoke and powder, and slipping and
rolling unreasonly in something red and the sky is screeching with
detonations. Kyuichi-san, who was going to a world of that weird sort,
stood motionless in his car, gazing at us in silence. The bond of
relations between us and Kyuichi-san, who caused us to come out here
was to break here, was, in fact, breaking momentarily. The door of the
car still stood open as did the car window, and we were looking at each
other, with only six feet between the going and the stopping; but that
was all that remained of the bond, which was every second snapping.
The conductor came along quickly closing the doors, each door shut
increasing the distance between the going and the stopping. Bang closed
Kyuichi-san’s car door, and we now stood in two different worlds. The
old gentleman unconsciously brought himself close up to the car window
and the young man held out his head.
“Look out there!” The train began to move almost before the words were
finished, the sound of the engine working, coming in measured rhythm at
first, gradually gaining in speed. One by one the car windows passed us
and Kyuichi-san’s face grew smaller and smaller. The last third class
car rolled before us, and just at that moment another head appeared out
of its window.
The unshaven face of the “tramp” peered out from under a worn-out
brown soft hat, casting a sad lingering look. The eyes of Nami-san and
of the deserted one met unintentionally. The train was moving out in
earnest. The face at the window disappeared instantly. Nami-san stood
abstractedly, gazing after the departing train. Strangely enough, in
that abstracted look of hers, I saw that missing “compassion and pity”
visibly outstanding, that I had never seen before.
“That is the stuff! You’ve got it. With that coming, it will make
a picture.”
I said this in a low voice as I patted Nami-san on her back. That
moment I completed the plan of my picture.
NOTES.
(1) Noh is a peculiarly Japanese stage performance of ancient origin,
from which sprang the latter-day theatrical plays. It is presented on
its own stage to the enjoyment of those who love to see human actions
reduced to dreamy gracefulness, beautiful curves, and melodious
sweetness.
(2) Basho Matsuo was the founder of his own school of Hokku and one of
the most famous poets Japan has produced. He was a seer in his way.
Born in 1644, he died in 1694.
(3) Hokku, also called Haiku, is an ode consisting of only 17 Japanese
kana syllables, and makes a point of compressing into a couple of
lines an impression made by the outside world, thoughts aroused by an
event, sentiments felt and all else that affects human heart. In fact,
everything that carries poetical sentiments and is uttered in poetical
tune within 17 syllables makes a hokku. It may be a mere whim, an
instantaneous impression, or else a very deep thought; but a good hokku
is always rich in colour and profound in idea, which it leaves unsaid
but only hints, and at least arouses a train of fancies in the reader.
(4) Danna-sama is a term originally adopted from Sanscrit Dana, meaning
“exhibition of charity” and is used in addressing a man of position.
Stands for English Sir, Master, or Your Honour; but nearer French
Monsieur. Less formally it takes the form of Danna-san or simply Danna.
(5) A small yellowish-green warbler, that sings with a peculiarly
sweet note, generally but wrongly identified with the English
nightingale. The uguisu never sings at night, as does the English bird,
except as a caged captive under a paper cover, with a light burning
near.
(6) Means an old woman or a grandmother with an honorific O; Bah-san is
less formal.
(7) Inen was a disciple of Basho and a passionate lover of nature in
her quietude.
(8) A rustic air sung by a mago or packhorse driver and the like,
always arousing pastoral associations of peace and care-freeness.
(9) Oba means aunt and san a honorific affix less formal than sama.
Oba-san is used in its broadest sense as is aunt.
(10) Aki is the name of a woman; in this case that of the old woman’s
married daughter. O and san are respectively an honorific prefix and
affix.
(11) Jo is daughter with the honorific sama, which becomes san less
formally.
(12) “Wise that the bride went horseback after cherry season.” This
haiku was probably suggested by an old ditty: “Why tie a horse to a
blossoming cherry tree? The flowers will scatter if spirited the horse
becomes.”
(13) Same as O-Bah-san, only less polite. See (6).
(14) Obi is a lined belt, made of fabric of various texture used over
the kimono, going two or three times round the waist. The Japanese
woman’s obi is often made of very beautiful material, and is about
eight-tenths of a foot in width and thirteen feet or so in length, so
that it is a ponderous affair to wear round the waist.
(15) The semi-transparent paper screen, sliding in grooves and
serving the purposes of light-admitting doors in Japanese houses.
(16) Same as shoji, only mounted with wall-paper like stuff and
therefore heavier. It also moves in grooves and takes the place of a
door in Japanese houses.
(17) A shoji is often put in windows in Japanese houses.
(18) In Japan it is considered nothing extraordinary or improper for
hotel maids or others of the sex, waiting on a guest, to help him to
put on a kimono.
(19) The three stringed Japanese guitar, often called “Sangen” nowadays.
(20) Generally means a Buddhist priest, implying respect. Osho-san is a
less formal form.
(21) Zen is the name of a Buddhist sect, credited with rising above
worldly trammels.
(22) Same as karakami.
(23) A term of widest application. Scholars, teachers, savants men of
profession or of speciality are all Sensei.
(24) Same as Danna-sama, only less polite. See (4).
(25) A round-head Buddhist priest, often pronounced “bonze” by
Westerners.
(26) Buddhist priests from the youngest to the oldest keep their head
clean shaved all over.
(27) Same as karakami. See (16).
(a) “The crazy thing, it shakes dew-drops off the aronia?” A blossoming
aronia wet in rain is often sung as a beauty in ablution. Crazy must
therefore be any one who shakes dew drop off an aronia in bloom.
(b) “Shadow of a flower; shadow of a woman; both so misty!” An
instantaneous picture of woman standing by a blossoming tree in the dim
moonlight.
(c) “The Reynard in woman’s guise, the moon so misty.” The fox is
often spoken of as “Shoichii,” which is the title of the Inari god,
who is always associated with the animal. The fancy here is that the
moon being so soft and dim that it will give the cunning animal an
opportunity to assume a human figure, and the woman may be a fox in
disguise.
(d) “A garland she makes of the midnight stars of Spring.”
(e) “It is Beauty loosening and bathing her hair in the clouds of a
Spring night.”
(f) “Spring’s night this, how fair the singing one.”
(g) “Spirit of aronia lured out even the moon-lit night.”
(h) “Song rises and falls, with Spring sauntering under the moon.”
(i) “How so alone, when fullest Spring is ripening!”
(j) “Dews on aronia fly; ’tis morning raven.”
(jk) “Shadowy the shadow of flower and the shadow of woman.”
(k) “Shadow of flower doubled the shadow of woman.”
(l) “It is lordling in woman’s guise in misty moonlight.”
(m)
“Even like the dew drop
That when autumn comes,
Lodges trembling on grass
So must I roll off to die.”
(n)
“Hark, the packhorse bells in the Spring breeze,
Even as they jingled in Inen’s ear.”
(o)
“List, mago-uta, grey hair undyed
Spring is going again.”
(p)
“Wise that the bride went
After the flower season on horse back.”
(q)
“Even as the gate of heaven opens
In the Spring breeze, fair one!
Show what is in your heart.”
A BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR.
“Soseki” Natsume was born in Ushigome, on January 5, 1867. After
graduating from Tokyo Imperial University, he taught in the Middle
Schools of Matsuyama and Kumamoto. Later he was appointed a professor
of Kumamoto No. 5 High School. In 1900 he was ordered to England by the
Department of Education to prosecute his studies. On coming home in
1903 he was given a chair of Literature In Tokyo Imperial University.
He resigned his university post in 1907 and immediately accepted a
position in the Tokyo Asahi Shimbun newspaper. From about 1909, he
began to ail from ulceration of the stomach, and the subsequent seven
years he spent in hospital and going to spas for a change of air, until
the disease carried him in 1916, he having never recovered fully from
its attack. He was in his fiftieth year when he died.
Chronology of Soseki’s works:
Name Year
Miscellaneous:
London Shosoku (London Letters) 1901
London Toh (The Tower of London) 1905
Eijitsu Shohin (Long Day Miscellany) 1909
Critical Essays:
Bungaku-ron (Literature, an essay) 1907
Bungaku Hyoron (Literary Criticisms) 1909
Asahi (Reprints from the Asahi) 1911
Bunten-to Geijutsu (Art and The Department of
Education Exhibition of Art) 1912
Shakai-to Jibun (Society and Self) 1913
Novels:
Wagahaiwa Neko-de Aru (I Am A Cat) 1909–1906
Botschan (Botchan) 1906
Nowaki (A Blast Of Fall Wind) 1907
Gubijinso (The Corn-poppy) 1907
Sanshiro (Sanshiro) 1908
Sorekara (Next) 1909
Mon (The Gate) 1910
Higan-sugi Made (Until After the Equinox) 1912
Kokoro (The Heart) 1914
Mei-An (Light and Shade) not finished 1915
版權所有
昭和二年七月一日印刷
昭和二年七月十日發行
英譯現代日本文藝叢書
定價 金貳圓五拾錢
英譯 草枕
譯者 高橋一知
東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地
ジャパン・タイムス社
發行者 不破瑳磨太
東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地
印刷者 北村東一
東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地
印刷所 ジャパン・タイムス社印刷部
* * * * *
東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地
發行所 ジャパン・タイムス社出版部
振替口座 東京 六四八四八番
販賣所 全國各書店
ジャパン・タイムス社出版部
英譯現代日本文藝叢書
THE JAPAN TIMES SERIES
MASTERPIECES OF CONTEMPORARY
JAPANESE FICTION
* * * * *
During the eras of Meiji and Taisho (1868–1926) the literary life of
Japan was enriched by a wealth of atheneum of the world.
As literature is the mirror of a living age in which is reflected the
life of the people and through which, more than any other medium,
the students of the present and future eras may more readily gain
an insight into the characteristics and the life of the people,
the publishers are convinced that the placing before the world, of
representative Japanese literature, will render an inestimable service
by bringing to it fuller and better understanding of Japan and the
Japanese.
* * * * *
お艶殺し 谷崎潤一郎作
A SPRING TIME CASE
(OTSUYA KOROSHI)
By Jun-ichiro Tanizaki rendered by ♦Zenchi Iwado.
♦ “Zench” replaced with “Zenchi”
* * * * *
戲曲 井伊大老の死 中村吉藏作
THE DEATH OF II TAIRO
(_DRAMA_)
(Ii Tairo No Shi)
By Kichizo Nakamura rendered by Mock Joya.
* * * * *
草枕 夏目漱石作
UNHUMAN TOUR
(KUSAMAKURA)
By Soseki Natsume rendered by Kazutomo Takahashi.
* * * * *
Published by THE JAPAN TIMES
HIBIYA PARK, TOKYO, JAPAN
Price Yen 2.50 Each
Postage Domestic 18 sen. Foreign 30 sen.
_Sent to Any Address on Receipt of the above Cost._
Transcriber’s Notes
1. Misspelled words have been corrected, sometimes referring to
the original Japanese text. Obsolete and alternative spellings have
been left unchanged (e.g. arn’t, atheneum, ecstacy, indivorcible,
irridescent, straightway). Spelling and hyphenation have otherwise
not been standardised. Grammar has not been corrected.
2. Punctuation has been silently corrected.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
4. Illustrations are indicated by: [Illustration: caption or
descriptive text].
5. Horizontal rule lines and are indicated by “* * * * *”.
6. The Japanese copyright information was originally written in
vertical text.
7. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the
Levenshtein Distance.
Japanese data (from end of book):
Title: 草枕
Kusamakura (lit. “Grass Pillow”)
Author: 夏目漱石
Natsume, Sōseki
Translator: 高橋一知
Takahashi, Kazutomo
Publisher (person): 不破瑳磨太
Fuwa, Samata
Printer (person): 北村東一
Kitamura, Tōichi (surname and given name)
Print date: 昭和二年七月一日
Shōwa (era) year 2 July 1 (i.e. 1 July 1927)
Printing site: ジャパン・タイムス社印刷部
東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地
Japan Times Company Printing Department
Tokyo City
Kōji-machi Uchisaiwai-chō 1-chōme 5-banchi
Publication date: 昭和二年七月十日
Shōwa (era) year 2 July 10 (i.e. 10 July 1927)
Publication site: ジャパン・タイムス社出版部
東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地
Japan Times Company Publication Department
Tokyo City
Kōji-machi Uchisaiwai-chō 1-chōme 5-banchi
Sales site: 全國各書店
Nationwide various book stores
Fixed Price: 金貳圓五拾錢
2 yen 50 sen
Corrections:
pg(s) Source Correction Edit
Distance
ii rejuvinated rejuvenated 1
iii siezed seized 2
iv visionalise visualise 3
6 frought fraught 1
10 paraphenalias paraphernalia 2
12, 60 breath breathe 1
fn 1 Bracketted Bracketed 1
15, 23, 77,
84, 92, 136 wont won’t 1
15 æthetically æsthetically 1
19 chucking clucking 1
19 straw-sandals straw sandals 1
19 forelornly forlornly 2
20 chucked clucked 1
25 sylables syllables 1
25 poney pony 1
27 (p) 3
34 corriders corridors 1
36, 48 slided slid 2
44 banditi banditti 1
48 Breath Breathe 1
49 “shoji,”(7) “shoji,” 3
50 (8) (18) 1
56 (l) 3
58 velvetty velvety 1
58 declevity declivity 1
59 night might 1
60 triped tripod 1
63, 142 caligraph calligraphy 1
66 horison horizon 1
67 dishabile dishabille 1
82 famliy family 2
83 capilary capillary 1
88 messhes meshes 1
88 profoundity profundity 1
92 topsyturvy topsy-turvy 1
93 swollowed swallowed 1
103 fulfiled fulfilled 1
104 maize maze 1
107 threshhold threshold 1
112 diciple disciple 1
115 eves eaves 1
122 paraphelnalia paraphernalia 1
122 rotand rotund 1
126 apologically apologetically 2
127, 145 Wont Won’t 1
127 caling calling 1
128 scholar-caligrapher scholar-calligrapher 1
130 monosylable monosyllable 1
142 beginnig beginning 1
152 hachet hatchet 1
184 courtesied curtsied 2
ad ZENCH ZENCHI 1