I sit in a tea shop at the station, staring thoughtful y at the piece of cake before me as I ponder this train theory of mine. I can’t very wel write it down in my sketchbook, and I feel no need to talk to anyone about it, so I simply sit here in silence, eating my cake and drinking my tea.
Opposite me are two men. Both wear straw sandals, one has a red blanket over his shoulders, and the other is dressed in pale green workman’s trousers with patches at the knees, to which he presses his hands.
“No good, eh?â€
“No good.â€
“We oughta have two stomachs, eh, like a cow.â€
“That’d be the answer. One goes wrong, you just cut it out.â€
This country fel ow is apparently suffering from stomach problems. The stench blowing from the Manchurian battle-fields has not reached these men’s nostrils; nor do they understand the evils of modern civilization. They know nothing of such matters as revolution; indeed, they haven’t so much as heard the word. They’re stil at the stage where they can seriously entertain the possibility of having two stomachs. I take out my sketchbook and set about sketching the two figures.
A bel begins to clang. The ticket is already bought.
“Right, let’s go,†says Nami, rising to her feet.
The old man stands with a grunt of effort. Our party goes through the ticket gate and out onto the platform. The bel is ringing fiercely.
With a roar, the serpent of civilization comes slowly writhing along the glittering tracks, belching black smoke from its jaws.
“So the time has come to say farewel ,†says the old man.
“Take good care of yourself,†Kyuichi responds with a bow.
“Make sure you come home dead,†Nami says once more.
“Is the luggage here?†asks her brother.
The serpent draws to a halt in front of us. The doors along its side open, and now people are streaming in and out. Kyuichi boards, leaving the old man, his son, Nami, and myself standing there outside.
With a single turn of those wheels, Kyuichi wil be no longer of our world. He is off to a world far distant, where men labor amid the reek of gunpowder, and slither and fal on a red slick, while the sky thunders ceaselessly above. Kyuichi, already on his way there, stands wordlessly in the carriage gazing out at us. Here is the snapping point of our mutual fates—his that has drawn us down from the mountains, and ours that have been drawn along by him. The break is already happening, for al that the carriage doors and windows are stil open, our faces are stil visible to each other, and a mere six feet separate him who is leaving from us who remain behind.
The conductor comes running down the platform toward us, clapping the doors shut one by one, and as each closes, the distance between the travelers and those who stay behind increases. Final y Kyuichi’s door slams shut. There are now two worlds. The old man steps closer to the window, and the young man thrusts his head out.
“Careful, it’s moving!†comes a cry, and already the train is heartlessly chugging into motion. One after another the windows slide past us. Kyuichi’s face grows smal .
Then as the last third-class carriage is passing me, another face appears at the window. Gazing disconsolately out is the bearded visage of the wild mountain monk, under his brown felt hat. His eyes and Nami’s suddenly find each other. The chugging train is picking up speed, and in another instant the wild face is gone. Standing there in a daze, Nami continues to stare after it, and astonishingly, her face is flooded with an emotion that I have never until this moment witnessed there—pitying love.
“That’s it! That’s it! That’s what I need for the picture!†I murmur, patting her on the shoulder. At last, with this moment, the canvas within my own heart has found its ful and final form.
Notes
CHAPTER 1
1 . By my eastern hedge: A verse from the poem “Drinking Wine,†by the Chinese poet Tao Yuanming (365-427), a work famous for extol ing the natural world and the calm heart divorced from the troubles of human life.
2 . Seated alone: A verse from the poem “House in the Bamboo Vil age†by the Chinese poet Wang Wei (699-759).
3 . Hototogisu or Konjikiyasha: Hototogisu, written by Soseki’s contemporary Tokutomi Roka (1868-1927), depicts the tragedy of a tubercular woman separated from her beloved husband by her feudalistic family. Konjikiyasha, by another contemporary, Ozaki Koyo (1867-1903), also depicts the sorrows of love. Both novels were immensely popular.
4 . no more do they . . . peace and tranquillity: In Chinese legend a fisherman takes his boat upstream and wanders into a grove of flowering plums. There he discovers the tranquil realm of the Taoist sages, which has no contact with the mundane world.
5 . Shichikiochi or Sumidagawa: Shichikiochi is an anonymous Noh play that dramatizes the story of a loyal retainer prepared to sacrifice his child to save his master. The Noh play Sumidagawa, by Zeami (c.1364-c.1443), portrays a woman crazed by grief at the abduction of her child; she travels to the distant river Sumida in search of him.
6 . Basho . . . composed a haiku on it: Basho (1644-94), the famous Edo-period haiku poet, wrote this haiku: “Plagued by fleas and lice—/and here is my horse peeing/right by the pil ow.â€
7 . haori: A haori is a short coat worn over Japanese dress.
CHAPTER 2
1 . a Hosho School production of the Noh play Takasago: Hosho, one of the five schools of Noh performance, had its theater in the Kanda district of Tokyo. Takasago, by Zeami, is one of the most famous Noh plays. Its protagonists are an old couple who are the spirits of two pine trees.
2 . bush warblers: These birds have a sweet cal that poetical y evokes spring.
3 . the mountain crone of Rosetsu’s painting: A famous painting by the Edo-period painter Nagasawa Rosetsu (1754-99) depicts the mythic wild-haired old woman of the mountains ( yamamba ).
4 . the war: The Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5.
5 . in Izen’s ears: Hirose Izen (1652?-1711) was a disciple of the haiku poet Basho. He spent much time on journeys composing.
6 . Suzuka’s far pass: Suzuka Mountain is on the border between present-day Mie and Shiga prefectures. The Suzuka Pass was renowned as a difficult place on the old Tokaido road between Kyoto and Edo (Tokyo) and often appeared in travel poems.
7 . it is not in fact my own poem: Soseki’s friend the poet Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) wrote a haiku that differs in only one word.
8 . the takashimada style: an elaborate high coiffure worn by a bride.
9 . Ophelia in Millais’s painting: The English painter John Everett Mil ais (1829-96), in his famous Ophelia, depicted her floating down a river among flowers. Although Soseki describes the hands as folded, they are not so in the painting.