Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

“You turned out to be a completely different person from what I had expected.”

Narrator (Akutagawa): That is not my responsibility.

The Voice: However, you yourself have contributed to that misunderstanding.

Narrator (Akutagawa): I have never contributed to that.

The Voice: But you loved elegance—or perhaps pretended to love it.

“I do love elegance.”

“Which do you love? Elegance?”
“Or a woman?”

“I love both.”

The Voice: (sneering) "I see you don't consider that a contradiction."

"Who would consider that a contradiction?"
"Those who love a woman may not love an old Seto teacup."
"But that's only because they lack the sensibility to appreciate old Seto teacups."

The Voice: “A man of elegance must choose one or the other.”

Narrator (Akutagawa): “I was unfortunately born with far greater appetites than any man of elegance. Though I may yet choose an old Seto teacup over a woman someday.”

The Voice: “Then you’re half-hearted.”

Narrator (Akutagawa): “If you call that half-heartedness, then whoever persists in cold-water rubdowns after catching influenza must be the very model of thoroughness.”

The Voice: “Cease this posturing. You’re feeble at your core. You spout these words merely to deflect society’s inevitable censure.”

“I of course intend to do so,” I said. “First you should consider. If I don’t fight back when necessary—that’s all—I’ll end up getting crushed.”

“What an impudent fellow you are!”

“I am not impudent in the least.” My heart chilled as if pierced by ice even in trivial matters.

The Voice: “Do you fancy yourself a man of power?”

Narrator (Akutagawa): “Of course I am one of the men of power.”
“However, I am not the greatest among them.”
“If I had been the greatest man of power, I would have contentedly become an idol like that fellow Goethe.”

The Voice: “Goethe’s love life was pure.”

Narrator (Akutagawa): “That’s a lie.”
“It’s a fabrication by literary historians.”
“Goethe fled suddenly to Italy precisely in his thirty-fifth year.”
“That’s right.”
“It can only be called an escape.”
“Those who know that secret, with the exception of Goethe himself, would likely be none other than Frau von Stein alone.”

The Voice: “What you’re saying is self-defense.”
“There’s nothing easier than self-defense.”

“Self-defense isn’t easy,” I said. “If it were truly so simple, the legal profession would never have come into being.”

“You silver-tongued rascal!” the Voice shot back. “No one will bother with you anymore!”

I still had trees and water that moved me deeply.
And I possessed over three hundred volumes of Japanese, Chinese, Eastern, and Western books.

The Voice: "But you'll lose your readers forever."

"I have readers in the future."

The Voice: "Will future readers give you bread?"

“Even current readers don’t give me enough.”
“My highest manuscript fee was capped at ten yen per page.”

“But don’t you have assets?”

“My assets consist solely of a plot of land in Honjo no larger than a cat’s forehead.”
“My monthly income has never exceeded three hundred yen even at its highest.”

“But you have a house.”
“And then there’s your royalties from Modern Literary Reader...”

“That house’s ridgebeam weighs heavily on me.”
“You can have my Modern Literary Reader royalties anytime.”
“What I received was four or five hundred yen.”

“Yet you edited that anthology yourself.”
“That fact alone demands shame.”

“What exactly requires my shame?”

“You’ve joined the educators’ ranks.”

“That’s a lie.”
“It’s educators who’ve joined our ranks.”
“I’ve reclaimed that work.”

“And you still dare call yourself Mr. Natsume’s disciple?”

“I am of course Mr. Natsume’s disciple.”
“You may know Mr. Sōseki, who was versed in letters.”
“But you likely don’t know that mad-genius Mr. Natsume.”

“You possess no true thought.”
“What you happen to have is thought riddled with contradictions.”

“That is evidence of my progress.”
“A fool will forever believe the sun is smaller than a washbasin.”

“Your arrogance will kill you.”

I sometimes think like this: — Perhaps I am not one to die peacefully on tatami mats.

“You appear unafraid of death?”
“Well?”

“I am afraid of dying.”
“But dying isn’t difficult.”
“I have hanged myself two or three times.”
“But after suffering for about twenty seconds, I even began to feel a certain pleasure.”
“I intend never to hesitate in dying whenever I encounter something more unpleasant than death.”

The Voice: “Then why don’t you die?”
“By anyone’s measure, aren’t you a criminal in the eyes of the law?”

I: “I am well aware of that too.”
“Like Verlaine, like Wagner, or again like the great Strindberg.”

“But you have no atonement.”

“No—I am atoning.”
“There is no atonement greater than suffering.”

“You are an incorrigible villain.”

“I am rather a virtuous man.”
“If I were a villain, I wouldn’t suffer as I do.”
“Not only that—he would exploit love without fail and squeeze money from women.”

“Then perhaps you are a fool.”

“That’s right.”
“I may be a fool.”
“That book called ‘Confessions of a Fool’ was written by a fool much like myself.”

“Moreover, you’re utterly blind to society.”

“If worldly wisdom reigns supreme, then businessmen would naturally be regarded as the highest class.”

The Voice: “You used to despise love.”
“But now that I look back, you were after all a romantic idealist.”

“No—I am decidedly not a romantic idealist even today.”
“I am a poet.”
“I am an artist.”

The Voice: “But didn’t you abandon your parents, wife, and children for the sake of love?”

I: “You lie.”
“I abandoned my parents, wife, and children solely for my own sake.”

“Then you are an egoist.”

“I am unfortunately not an egoist. But I want to become one.”

“Unfortunately, you are intoxicated by modern ego worship.”

“That is precisely why I am a modern man.”

“Modern man does not fall short of the ancients.”

“The ancients too were once modern people.”

“Do you not pity your wife and children?”

“Is there anyone who could remain without pitying? Read Gauguin’s letter.”

“You intend to keep justifying what you’ve done to the bitter end, don’t you?”

“If I were justifying it endlessly, I wouldn’t be debating with you.”

“Then you still refuse to acknowledge it?”

“I am merely resigned.”

“But what about your responsibility?”

“A quarter is my heredity—a quarter my circumstances—a quarter my chance. My responsibility amounts to but a quarter.”

“What a base creature you are!”

“Anyone would be as base as I am.”

“Then you are a diabolist.”

“I am not a diabolist. I have always felt contempt especially for diabolists in safe havens.”

The Voice: (After a silence) “At any rate, you are suffering.”
“I’ll grant you that.”

“No—don’t you go carelessly overestimating me.”
“I may perhaps take pride in my suffering.”
“Moreover, ‘fearing loss once you’ve gained’ is not something a man of power would do.”

“You may perhaps be an honest man. But then again, you may perhaps be a buffoon.”

“I too have been wondering which one I am.”

The Voice: "You have always believed yourself to be a realist."

I was such an idealist.

The Voice: You may perhaps perish.

I: But what created me will likely create a second me.

The Voice: “Then suffer as you please.”
“I have nothing left but to part from you.”

“Wait.”
“Please let me hear this before you go.”
“You who constantly interrogate me—what are you, invisible one?”

“Me?”
“I am the angel who wrestled Jacob for supremacy at the dawn of the world.”

II

The Voice: “You possess remarkable courage.”

I: “No—I have no courage. If I had courage, I would not leap into the lion’s maw but wait for it to devour me.”

The Voice: “Yet what you have done contains humanity.”

“What is most human is simultaneously what is most animal-like.”

“What you’ve done isn’t wrong. You’re merely suffering under modern social systems.”

“Even if those social systems changed, my actions would inevitably make some people unhappy.”

“Yet you didn’t kill yourself. At least you’ve retained some strength.”

“I have time and again attempted suicide. In particular, to achieve a death that seemed natural, I ate ten flies a day. I tore the flies into small pieces and swallowed them—it was nothing. But chewing them to pulp felt disgusting.”

“Instead, you will likely become great.”

"I am not seeking greatness or anything of the sort."
"All I want is peace."
"Read Wagner’s letter."
"He writes that he would be content never to create great art so long as he had a beloved wife, two or three children, and enough money to live without hardship."
"Even Wagner is like this."
"Even that strong-willed Wagner."

The Voice: "At any rate, you are suffering."
"You are not a man without a conscience."

“I have no conscience or anything of the sort.”
“All I possess are nerves.”

The Voice: “Your family life was unhappy.”

"I: But my wife was always faithful to me."

"The Voice: Your tragedy lies in possessing a more robust intellect than others."

"I: 'You lie.'
'My comedy lies in possessing less worldly wisdom than others.'"

The Voice: But you are honest.
The Voice: “You laid bare every detail to the husband of the woman you love before anything came to light.”

I: That too is a lie.
“I did not confess until I felt compelled to do so.”

The Voice: “You are a poet.”
“An artist.”
“Everything is permitted to you.”

“I am a poet.”
“An artist.”
“Yet also society’s constituent.”
That I bear my cross holds no mystery.
Still—this burden feels too slight.

The Voice: “You’ve forgotten your own ego.”
“Respect your individuality and despise the vulgar masses.”

"I respect my individuality without needing you to tell me so."
"But I do not despise the masses."
"I once said: 'Jade may shatter, but tiles remain unbroken.'"
"Shakespeare, Goethe, and Chikamatsu Monzaemon will all perish someday."
"The womb that bore them—the great masses will not perish."
"All art, even as their forms change, will surely be born from within them."

The Voice: "What you’ve written is original."

“No—it’s not original at all,” I said.
“First of all，who has ever been original?”
“Even what geniuses throughout history wrote contains prototypes everywhere.”
“Above all，I myself stole repeatedly.”

The Voice countered，“Yet you’ve been teaching others.”

“What I taught were only things I couldn’t do myself.”
“Had they been within my power，I would’ve acted before ever lecturing.”

“Convince yourself that you are an Übermensch.”

“No—I am not an Übermensch.”
“We are none of us Übermenschen.”
“The Übermensch is Zarathustra alone.”
“Moreover, even Nietzsche himself does not know what death Zarathustra met.”

“Even you fear society?”

“Who has never feared society?”

“Look at Wilde who spent three whole years in prison,” said the Voice. “Wilde said, ‘To rashly commit suicide is to lose to society.’”

“Wilde attempted suicide multiple times while in prison,” I said. “He refrained only because he lacked the means.”

“Trample down good and evil.”

“I intend to strive all the more to be a good person henceforth.”

The Voice: You are far too simple.

I: No—I am far too complex.

The Voice: “But rest assured.”
“Your readers will probably never cease.”

I: “That will be after the copyright has expired.”

“You’re suffering over love.”

“For love?”
“Cut out this pretentious literary flattery.”
“I merely stumbled into a love affair.”

“Everyone is prone to stumble in matters of love.”

“That only means everyone is prone to drowning in the desire for money.”

The Voice: “You are nailed to life’s cross.”

I: “That’s no credit to me.”
“Mistress killers and embezzlers are also nailed to life’s cross.”

The Voice: “Life isn’t so dark a thing.”

“I know life appears dark to all but the ‘chosen few’.”
“Moreover, this ‘chosen few’ is merely another name for fools and villains.”

The Voice: “Then suffer as you will.”
“Do you recognize me?”
“Even when I’ve troubled myself to console you?”

I: "You're a dog."
"You're the demon that long ago crawled into Faust's chamber as a dog."

Three

“What are you doing?”

“I am merely writing.”

“Why are you writing?”

"I cannot help but write."

"Then write."
"Write until you die."

"Of course—first and foremost, there is no other way."

“You’re surprisingly composed.”

“No—I’m not composed in the slightest.”
“If there are those who know me, they would surely know my suffering.”
The Voice: “Where has your smile gone?”

It has returned to the heavenly gods.
To send a smile to life, one must first possess a balanced character, second money, and third nerves stronger than my own.

“But you’ve grown carefree, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I have grown carefree.”
“In exchange, I must bear the burden of a lifetime on bare shoulders.”

“You have no choice but to live as yourself.”
“Or perhaps again in your own way…”

“That’s right.”
“I have no choice but to die in my own way.”

The Voice: “You will become a new you, different from your former self.”

“I am always myself.”
“Only the skin will change.”
“Like a snake shedding its skin.”

“You know absolutely everything.”

“No—I do not know.”

What I was conscious of was only a part of my soul.
The part of me I wasn’t conscious of—my soul’s Africa—stretched boundlessly in every direction.
It was that which I feared.
In the light, monsters do not dwell.
But in the boundless darkness, something still slept.

The Voice: You too were once my child.

I: Who are you—the one who kissed me?
I: No—I know you.

“Then who do you think I am?”

“You’re what stole my peace.
You’re what shattered my Epicureanism.
My—no, not mine alone.
You’re what made us lose the spirit of moderation taught by the sages of ancient China.
Your victims lie scattered everywhere.
In literary history as well, in newspaper articles as well.”

“What do you call that?”

“I—I don’t know what to call it.
But to borrow another’s words, you are a force beyond us.
You are the Daimôn that rules us.”

The Voice: “Bless yourself—I don’t come to speak with just anyone.”

“No—I intend to guard against your coming more than anyone.”
“Where you go, there is no peace.”
“Moreover, you permeate everything like Röntgen’s rays.”

The Voice: “Then don’t let your guard down from now on either.”

“Of course I won’t let my guard down from now on.”
“But when holding the pen…”

“So you’re saying I should come when you’re holding it?”

“Who said you could come?!”
“I am one of minor writers.”
“And yet I still wish to remain one of minor writers.”
“Peace cannot be found beyond this.”
“But when holding pen—I may become your captive.”

“Then always be on your guard.”
“For one thing, I might put each and every one of your words into practice.”
“Goodbye then.”
“For I shall come to see you again someday.”

(Alone now.) Ryūnosuke Akutagawa!
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, sink your roots deep.
You are a reed shaken by winds.
Skies may shift without warning.
Just keep your footing firm.
This you do for yourself.
And equally for your children’s sake.
Let no pride swell within you.
Nor let servility take root either.
From this moment—begin anew.

(1927, Posthumous Manuscript)