Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Sasaki Kunio “Let me tell you an interesting story about that.” When the President started saying that, everyone around him was exasperated. However, since he was looking around in anticipation of an obligatory response, someone… “I see.” …had to respond with “I see.” The President had been given the nickname Shiriuma Koji (Blind-Follower Layman). After someone else spoke, he would invariably recall something, “About that…” He would do. There were times when that was utterly irrelevant. When Mr. Hoshino, an executive at Nichigai, mentioned on some occasion,

“I was born in the Year of the Monkey.”

When he said that，the President， “Monkey，you say? When it comes to monkeys，I too have a well-formed opinion.”

“I see.” “When it comes to Shikoku monkeys, they’re native to my hometown.” “These days their numbers seem to have dwindled considerably, but back in the old days there were loads of them around.” “When it comes to training them in the arts, Shikoku monkeys are the only way.” “They can be caught even in the South Seas, but those from there have poor memory.” “The monkeys that handlers bring around are all from my hometown.” “The monkeys that learned Confucianism from Kiyomasa Katō were probably Shikoku-born too.” “To capture those creatures from the mountains and tame them…” he once launched into a lecture about monkeys. On such occasions, the entire group had to perform the ritual of pausing their work and listening intently, then laughing at all the appropriate moments. Company employees also found it quite taxing. Admittedly, if one were to hear that monkeys learned Confucianism from Kiyomasa Katō, there’s simply no way to keep from bursting out laughing. The numerous typos were a relief.

Recently, since the President had returned from gallivanting around Europe and America, he became particularly talkative. He was poised and ready to share his newfound knowledge at any moment, so they couldn’t risk speaking carelessly. Even if they remained silent, he would contrive some pretext to create an opening. Just the other day,

“Mr. Hoshino, have you been partaking in evening drinks lately?” “Well, now and then I do.” “Over there, they’re having a terrible time with Prohibition.” Given this opening, he promptly launched into a story about America. At this point, he wasn’t merely Jasoku Koji (the Needless Commentator)—he was practically a highwayman. “I see.”

Mr. Hoshino was good-natured.

“...It’s an utterly foolish law.” “It’s completely unenforceable.” “In the end, it just makes people drink bad liquor at inflated prices while padding smugglers’ pockets.” “The lower classes mix questionable substitutes to drink, leading to frequent accidents.” “They often die.” “They’re peddling liquor so strong one glass makes your eyes bulge out.” “Left unchecked, it’ll ruin the working class’s health entirely.” “There’s even a theory among experts that Prohibition itself will destroy America.”

It took him thirty minutes just to reach that conclusion. Having been recently appointed as the President’s secretary, I now had to endure these interminable one-sided lectures from start to finish. While being privy to the President’s esteemed lectures directly had once been considered an honor, having it become a daily obligation as of late was utterly grating. Moreover, due to his advanced age, the President’s mental faculties had deteriorated somewhat, so he would forget things and end up repeating the same stories multiple times. When Mr. Hoshino and Mr. Tsukamoto directed looks at me that seemed to say “Again?”, it was I who deserved sympathy. I had already been made to listen to it four or five times.

During his travels, the President became acquainted with a certain duke and, even after returning to Japan, continued their association by joining a golf club where the duke served as honorary director. As a result, anecdotes about this duke frequently came up. “When I was crossing from America to Britain, I had the honor of meeting him for the first time aboard the ship. “Although the Duke is a lord of a million-koku domain, he’s renowned for his egalitarianism.” “When he saw my business card and said, ‘Ah yes, I’ve heard much about you,’ I was quite flustered.” “He was remarkably unpretentious.” “He’d address me as ‘you’ and refer to himself as ‘I’ in this casual manner, without a hint of arrogance.” “But one day on deck, something interesting happened, I tell you.”

And at such moments, the President would habitually scrutinize his listener's face.

“I see.” There was no helping it—they were being pressed to respond. “I see.” “The Duke seems delighted to be called commoner-like and does everything on equal terms.” “When I take out tobacco from my pocket, he takes a match from the table and strikes it for me.” “This was quite humbling, I must say.” “In return, I would wait for the Duke to take out his tobacco and light it for him.” “But one day, when the Duke took a match from the table intending to light my tobacco, he opened it only to find it empty.” “What do you think happened?”

“I see.” “Don’t just say ‘I see’!” “Well, what do you suppose happened?” “The Duke made a slightly displeased face and rebuked me, saying, ‘You there—stop dawdling and go borrow one from over there.’”

“I see. Then what happened?” “When I went to fetch matches from the neighboring table, the Duke said, ‘Good work,’ and lit it for me.” “In that case, it would’ve been far quicker for him to do it himself.” “I thought to myself, ‘Now that’s what I call true egalitarianism,’ and couldn’t help but secretly admire it.”

“Ha ha ha…” At this point, everyone had to laugh.

“The nobility’s so-called egalitarianism—it’s all just like this.” “They act like commoners only when convenient, but show their base metal at the slightest trouble.” “Merely gold-plated through and through.” “Precisely so.” “Still, he’s useful enough.” “When we expand next time, we’ll make sure he coughs up plenty.”

And so the President went to the golf club to conduct business.

It was primarily the executives and section chiefs who had to humor such idle chatter. Regular employees remained oblivious; believing that since the President’s return there had been frequent important meetings, they diligently applied themselves to their studies. In the company, the busier people were, the worse their compensation. The more leisure one had for idle talk, the better the treatment they received. However, even when going to play golf, he was preoccupied with getting the Duke to hold shares, so not even the President had peace of mind. Even executives like Mr. Hoshino and Mr. Tsukamoto occasionally said they had trouble sleeping at night. After all, they were putting their minds to work appropriately. As for the section chiefs, sandwiched between those above and below, they were genuinely busy. Since everyone had their own concerns to attend to, if they spent all their time listening to the President’s lengthy discourses, it would cause work to pile up. Therefore, both the executives and section chiefs tried to avoid getting involved as much as possible. However, since the section chiefs were in a separate room, if they didn’t come, there was no way to rope them in.

“Ah, ah, ah!”

One day, the President raised his voice while looking at the newspaper. When others remained silent, he would employ such tactics. “The wife of a certain industrialist eloped with her driver.” “Who could it be?” He muttered audibly, intending to steer the conversation directly to the newspaper scoop. “That was in there, wasn’t it?”

Mr. Tsukamoto lifted his head from the desk. “Regarding elopements with drivers, I heard an interesting story in America.” The President removed his glasses. “I see.” Mr. Tsukamoto reluctantly said it. “The head of a major bank over there was advised by his doctor to take three months of absolute rest and relocated alone to a seaside location.” “Just like me—high blood pressure and arteriosclerosis.” “So during that period, he completely severed contact with both the bank and his household to focus solely on recuperation.” “They say forgetting everything and just staring into space makes the best medicine.” “Even someone like me could certainly use that!”

“Certainly there is,” “We’ll handle company matters, so how about doing it soon?” Mr. Hoshino suggested. “I can’t just keep gallivanting about forever, so let’s put it off until next year.” “By the way, that bank president had made a full recovery and returned.” “When he arrived at the station, a single student had come out to meet him.” “He originally had no children—just his young former-actress wife, whom he’d taken as his second, and her mother in the household.” “‘Welcome home.’ ‘How did it go?’” “‘Was there nothing different?’ he asked—‘When one leaves their house for three months, I suppose they’d naturally wonder.’”

“I see.” “The student had been instructed not to relay any news, so he answered, ‘Nothing at all,’ but thinking one dog wouldn’t matter, he added, ‘Actually, John died.’” “John died?” “Was he killed by a dogcatcher or something?” “No—he ate some burnt horse…” “Burnt horse? “Hmm, where on earth would he go to eat such a thing?” It’s no wonder the banker tilted his head quizzically. “In upper-class society over there, they don’t eat horse.”

The fact that the President could utter such contradictions with a straight face was indeed a sign of his arteriosclerosis. “In Japan, we don’t eat that either.” I pointed this out. Just because I was a secretary didn’t mean I could remain overly deferential and expect to have my presence acknowledged. “Indeed, now that you mention it,” he said. “By the way, the student explained: ‘Actually, the stable burned down and both horses were killed in the fire.’ ‘That’s what John ate.’ ‘Ah, so the stable burned down?’ ‘That’s quite a blunder.’ ‘What happened?’ ‘Flying embers.’ ‘Flying embers? There was a fire that close?’ ‘Yes, actually, the main building burned down.’ ‘The main building?’ ‘Yes, completely destroyed.’ ‘This is shocking—though at least it’s insured.’”

“President, is that a true story?” asked Mr. Tsukamoto. “I can’t vouch for that.” “How on earth did the fire start?” “It was a genuine accident—the candle flames spread to the curtains.” “But we only use electric lights at home, not candles!” “They were candles placed around the coffin.” “Coffin? Who died?” The bank president turned pale. “He had ordered them not to report anything no matter what happened, but he never imagined a death would occur.” “Actually, your wife’s mother has suddenly passed away.” “Is that so.” “‘In that case, fine’—what a pragmatic man he was.”

“Mr. Tsukamoto, this is turning into quite the fairy tale!”

And Mr. Hoshino took up a fountain pen, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to shake it off.

“Just bear with it a little longer.”

And the President pressed on. “The bank president asked, ‘Why did they die? What illness?’ he asked. ‘It wasn’t an illness.’ ‘He apparently died from shock.’ ‘What could have shocked him so much?’ ‘Well…’ ‘Well what?’ ‘Now, if there’s another “actually” behind this “actually,” we’ll have a problem!’ ‘Actually… your wife has run off with the driver,’ said the student, finally reaching the end of his trembling string of ‘actuallys.’” “Ugh…” groaned the big shot, promptly collapsing in a daze—that’s how the story goes.

the President finished speaking.

“Ha ha ha ha!”

And I burst out laughing. However, the executives could only force pained smiles, having no further promotions left to gain.

One day, Mr. Tsukamoto, in a rare show of initiative, challenged the President’s pontifications. To be sure, it had started out simply as—

“You really do have a robust constitution, President.” he said on the occasion of expressing his gratitude for having been invited the previous evening. “That’s because I’m built like this, you see.”

“It must be because you’re in such robust health.” “When I consider it properly, I can’t imagine living to reach your age.” “Don’t speak such feeble-minded nonsense.” “Eat abundantly and sleep abundantly.” “Do that and you’ll become sturdy.”

And this was the President’s health method. Because he was healthy, he could eat heartily and sleep heartily. His confusion of cause and effect was yet another sign of arteriosclerosis. “Ah, but that’s not quite how it is.” “Lately, I haven’t been able to sleep well either.” “Not being able to sleep is the worst thing for you.” “Could it be neurasthenia?”

“There may be some of that, but there are other causes as well.”

“What kind of cause?” “Because I enjoy hot drinks and tend to overindulge—it’s a bit crude to mention—I inevitably have to get up twice during the night to relieve myself.”

“So that’s why you can’t sleep?” “What do you plan to do if you can’t even resolve something like that?”

“But I can’t give up what I enjoy.” “Let the drinking remain—just manage the vulgar business.” “Do you have any ingenious solutions?” “Use the chamber pot, I say—the chamber pot!” “A chamber pot?” “Exactly! It’s a marvelously convenient device, I tell you.” “Being an indolent sort, I’ve employed it since my vigorous years.” “Lying abed at length while drowsily attending to necessities—that’s how nobility lives!” “You must try it at least once.” “This foolishly conscientious rising each time is why you’re sleep-starved.”

“I see—an excellent suggestion I’ve received.” “I’ll put it into practice right away.” And Mr. Tsukamoto appeared to be genuinely struggling with his bladder.

After five or six days had passed, “Mr. Tsukamoto, how’s it going? How’s the royal treatment?” the President asked. “Well... That truly is the way of royalty. Thanks to you, I can sleep properly now.” “That’s excellent.” “As expected, the President knows all the best things that come with age. I’m impressed. It’s strange I never thought of such a simple solution until now.”

And Mr. Tsukamoto was profoundly grateful to the President. “Is it truly that effective?” And Mr. Hoshino found himself sucked into the conversation.

“Absolutely.” “It’s worth widely recommending as a health method.” “Who knows how many people catch colds or fall into sleep deprivation from getting up to use the bathroom at night.” “Since they’re all capable individuals past middle age, when you tally it up, this significantly impacts the national economy.” “I see.” “Moreover, this becomes part of mental discipline.” “There’s nothing more comfortable than that.” “In practice, you can savor the feeling of being royalty.” “When I think that no matter how much I fail or fall into ruin, I can still maintain this one luxury—there lies my peace of mind and spiritual stability.”

And once again, the President launched into a lengthy lecture.

It was New Year when I assumed the position of company president’s secretary. Then spring passed and summer arrived. In that time, I had heard—repeatedly—the President’s

“Let me tell you an interesting story about that...” I had long since lost count of how many times I'd been subjected to that phrase. I treated it all as part of my professional training. Yet credit where due—amidst the endless stream, there existed certain irrepressible masterpieces that defied dismissal. With one such gem and an anecdote about Mr. Tsukamoto here recorded, I now set down my pen.

Mr. Hoshino, who had lost his capable wife a year prior, had now found a favorable match and taken a new spouse. Since the other party was also a widow, it was decided the ceremony would be held very simply, so only the President and Mr. Tsukamoto attended from the company. It was the next day.

“Mr. Tsukamoto, even a second or third wedding ceremony is still better than a funeral, wouldn’t you agree?” Needless to say, it was the President who had initiated the conversation. “How pitiful to be compared with funerals.” And Mr. Tsukamoto, too, never hesitated to engage when current affairs were discussed. “But she’s rather a beauty.”

“She’s pretty.” “And young too.” “The only drawback is the stepchildren.” “If there were no children, matters would proceed more smoothly.” “That is certainly true.” “If she’s young and pretty, one can endure two or three stepchildren.” “She differs from his former wise wife like snow from ink.” “Of course, wise wives aren’t beauties by nature.” “Mr. Hoshino shall now enter his flowering season, I suppose.” “My wife sympathizes—among those dying poor, how pitiable the late wife must be.” “That may be so, but with five children already present, he must take a new wife to sustain the household.” “It cannot be helped.”

“With the new wife’s two stepchildren, that makes seven in total.”

“That’s quite a burden.” “Moreover, Mr. Hoshino—regardless of anything else—given how young the new wife is, there will certainly be more to come.” “There will be.” “I guarantee two or three more.” “If three more arrive, that’ll make ten.” “With each coming from different seeds and being raised in separate fields, it makes for quite an odd situation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“A bit like a kindergarten, don’t you think?” “Since I have my doubts about whether such blended families actually work out, I did warn Mr. Hoshino about it.” “But they’d already had the meeting by then.” “The boss must’ve fallen for her right away.”

“That’s right.” “I told him ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained’—he can’t just keep worrying about the results.”

“I have an interesting story about this sort of marriage.” And suddenly, the President remembered. “I see.” “A widower with three children married a widow with three children, and they ended up having three more children, I hear.” “That makes nine in total.” “One fewer than Mr. Hoshino’s household.” One day, the wife rushed to her husband in a panic and said, “Darling! Darling! It’s terrible!” “What is it?” he asked, to which she replied, “Your child and my child have teamed up to bully our child.” “Since I’ve already scolded my child, you should go and scold yours,” was her request. “Well? What do you say?” “It’s really hitting the subtleties of human emotions, isn’t it?”

“I see.”

“Those who leave grow more distant with each passing day.” “The most beloved remains the child born between the current spouses.” “Next comes one’s own children.” “Yet they feel no responsibility toward children bound only by social obligation.” “What makes it so amusing is how the wife’s spur-of-the-moment words lay these truths bare as daylight.” “Ah, that does make sense.”

Mr. Tsukamoto seemed uncharacteristically impressed. “Since some are taking new wives, we must all make considerable efforts at rejuvenation.” The President still strained to continue his monologue.

“It’s no use anymore.” “If you show such spinelessness, you’ll be overwhelmed by Mr. Hoshino.” “No matter how much I struggle, I’m already royalty now.” “Still keeping at it, are you?” “I am.” “Sleeping well, are you?” “I can sleep. By the way, President, I made a major blunder with that royalty business the other day.” And this time, it was Mr. Tsukamoto who remembered. “You spilled it, didn’t you?” “I spill things quite often myself.” “No, that’s not it. I burned myself.”

“A burn?” “Is royalty big?”

“That’s correct.” “Due to my sensitive nerves, sleeping has become quite difficult for me.” “What’s especially troublesome is that when I put up the mosquito net, I can’t sleep at all.” “So lately, I’ve been resting in the quietest room on the second floor, burning mosquito repellent incense.”

“I see.” And for the first time, the President became the listener. “The other night, after dozing off and waking up, I groped through utter darkness determined to use that royal chamber pot.” “Then I leapt up in an instant!” “When I hurriedly lit the lamp to check, what I’d taken for royalty turned out to be ㊇’s pig-shaped mosquito burner.” “I use an extra-large one to last till morning.” “They’re near identical in size and shape, and with my wretched sleeping posture throwing off my bearings, I ended up dragging the wrong thing toward me.”

“Ha ha ha ha!” “I was truly shocked. “If I’d known it was fire, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but at first I thought a centipede had gotten into the royal chamber pot. “I remember being bitten by a centipede as a child—this felt exactly the same.”

Because Mr. Tsukamoto had explained with such seriousness, the President and I doubled over laughing. (August 1926 [Taisho 15], Omoshiro Club)