kwaidan-第19部分

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most　love　the　peony；　and　the　golden　yellow　rose　is　my　own　darling；　and　I

will　obey　her　every　least　behest；　for　that　is　my　pride　and　my　delight。'。。。

So　you　say。　But　the　opulent　and　elegant　season　of　flowers　is　very　short：

soon　they　will　fade　and　fall。　Then；　in　the　time　of　summer　heat；　there　will

be　green　leaves　only；　and　presently　the　winds　of　autumn　will　blow；　when

even　the　leaves　themselves　will　shower　down　like　rain；　parari…parari。　And

your　fate　will　then　be　as　the　fate　of　the　unlucky　in　the　proverb；　Tanomi　ki

no　shita　ni　ame　furu　＇Even　through　the　tree　upon　which　I　relied　for　shelter

the　rain　leaks　down＇。　For　you　will　seek　out　your　old　friend；　the

root…cutting　insect；　the　grub；　and　beg　him　to　let　you　return　into　your

old…time　hole；　but　now　having　wings；　you　will　not　be　able　to　enter　the

hole　because　of　them；　and　you　will　not　be　able　to　shelter　your　body

anywhere　between　heaven　and　earth；　and　all　the　moor…grass　will　then　have

withered；　and　you　will　not　have　even　one　drop　of　dew　with　which　to　moisten

your　tongue；　and　there　will　be　nothing　left　for　you　to　do　but　to　lie　down

and　die。　all　because　of　your　light　and　frivolous　heart　　but；　ah！　how

lamentable　an　end！〃。。。



III







Most　of　the　Japanese　stories　about　butterflies　appear；　as　I　have　said；　to

be　of　Chinese　origin。　But　I　have　one　which　is　probably　indigenous；　and　it

seems　to　me　worth　telling　for　the　benefit　of　persons　who　believe　there　is

no　〃romantic　love〃　in　the　Far　East。







Behind　the　cemetery　of　the　temple　of　Sozanji；　in　the　suburbs　of　the

capital；　there　long　stood　a　solitary　cottage；　occupied　by　an　old　man　named

Takahama。　He　was　liked　in　the　neighborhood；　by　reason　of　his　amiable　ways；

but　almost　everybody　supposed　him　to　be　a　little　mad。　Unless　a　man　take　the

Buddhist　vows；　he　is　expected　to　marry；　and　to　bring　up　a　family。　But

Takahama　did　not　belong　to　the　religious　life；　and　he　could　not　be

persuaded　to　marry。　Neither　had　he　ever　been　known　to　enter　into　a

love…relation　with　any　woman。　For　more　than　fifty　years　he　had　lived

entirely　alone。





One　summer　he　fell　sick；　and　knew　that　he　had　not　long　to　live。　He　then

sent　for　his　sister…in…law；　a　widow；　and　for　her　only　son；　a　lad　of　about

twenty　years　old；　to　whom　he　was　much　attached。　Both　promptly　came；　and　did

whatever　they　could　to　soothe　the　old　man's　last　hours。





One　sultry　afternoon；　while　the　widow　and　her　son　were　watching　at　his

bedside；　Takahama　fell　asleep。　At　the　same　moment　a　very　large　white

butterfly　entered　the　room；　and　perched　upon　the　sick　man's　pillow。　The

nephew　drove　it　away　with　a　fan；　but　it　returned　immediately　to　the　pillow；

and　was　again　driven　away；　only　to　come　back　a　third　time。　　Then　the　nephew

chased　it　into　the　garden；　and　across　the　garden；　through　an　open　gate；

into　the　cemetery　of　the　neighboring　temple。　But　it　continued　to　flutter

before　him　as　if　unwilling　to　be　driven　further；　and　acted　so　queerly　that

he　began　to　wonder　whether　it　was　really　a　butterfly；　or　a　ma　＇16＇。　He

again　chased　it；　and　followed　it　far　into　the　cemetery；　until　he　saw　it　fly

against　a　tomb；　a　woman's　tomb。　There　it　unaccountably　disappeared；　and

he　searched　for　it　in　vain。　He　then　examined　the　monument。　It　bore　the

personal　name　〃Akiko；〃　（3）　together　with　an　unfamiliar　family　name；　and　an

inscription　stating　that　Akiko　had　died　at　the　age　of　eighteen。　Apparently

the　tomb　had　been　erected　about　fifty　years　previously：　moss　had　begun　to

gather　upon　it。　But　it　had　been　well　cared　for：　there　were　fresh　flowers

before　it；　and　the　water…tank　had　recently　been　filled。





On　returning　to　the　sick　room；　the　young　man　was　shocked　by　the

announcement　that　his　uncle　had　ceased　to　breathe。　Death　had　come　to　the

sleeper　painlessly；　and　the　dead　face　smiled。





The　young　man　told　his　mother　of　what　he　had　seen　in　the　cemetery。





〃Ah！〃　exclaimed　the　widow；　〃then　it　must　have　been　Akiko！〃。。。





But　who　was　Akiko；　mother？〃　the　nephew　asked。





The　widow　answered：





〃When　your　good　uncle　was　young　he　was　betrothed　to　a　charming　girl　called

Akiko；　the　daughter　of　a　neighbor。　Akiko　died　of　consumption；　only　a　little

before　the　day　appointed　for　the　wedding；　and　her　promised　husband　sorrowed

greatly。　After　Akiko　had　been　buried；　he　made　a　vow　never　to　marry；　and　he

built　this　little　house　beside　the　cemetery；　so　that　he　might　be　always

near　her　grave。　All　this　happened　more　than　fifty　years　ago。　And　every　day

of　those　fifty　years　　winter　and　summer　alike　　your　uncle　went　to　the

cemetery；　and　prayed　at　the　grave；　and　swept　the　tomb；　and　set　offerings

before　it。　But　he　did　not　like　to　have　any　mention　made　of　the　matter；　and

he　never　spoke　of　it。。。　So；　at　last；　Akiko　came　for　him：　the　white

butterfly　was　her　soul。〃



IV







I　had　almost　forgotten　to　mention　an　ancient　Japanese　dance；　called　the

Butterfly　Dance　（Kocho…Mai）；　which　used　to　be　performed　in　the　Imperial

Palace；　by　dancers　costumed　as　butterflies。　Whether　it　is　danced

occasionally　nowadays　I　do　not　know。　It　is　said　to　be　very　difficult　to

learn。　Six　dancers　are　required　for　the　proper　performance　of　it；　and　they

must　move　in　particular　figures；　obeying　traditional　rules　for　ever　step；

pose；　or　gesture；　and　circling　about　each　other　very　slowly　to　the　sound

of　hand…drums　and　great　drums；　small　flutes　and　great　flutes；　and　pandean

pipes　of　a　form　unknown　to　Western　Pan。





MOSQUITOES







With　a　view　to　self…protection　I　have　been　reading　Dr。　Howard's　book；

〃Mosquitoes。〃　I　am　persecuted　by　mosquitoes。　There　are　several　species　in

my　neighborhood；　but　only　one　of　them　is　a　serious　torment；　a　tiny　needly

thing；　all　silver…speckled　and　silver…streaked。　The　puncture　of　it　is　sharp

as　an　electric　burn；　and　the　mere　hum　of　it　has　a　lancinating　quality　of

tone　which　foretells　the　quality　of　the　pain　about　to　come；　much　in　the

same　way　that　a　particular　smell　suggests　a　particular　taste。　I　find　that

this　mosquito　much　resembles　the　creature　which　Dr。　Howard　calls　Stegomyia

fasciata；　or　Culex　fasciatus：　and　that　its　habits　are　the　same　as　those　of

the　Stegomyia。　For　example；　it　is　diurnal　rather　than　nocturnal　and　becomes

most　troublesome　in　the　afternoon。　And　I　have　discovered　that　it　comes　from

the　Buddhist　cemetery；　a　very　old　cemetery；　in　the　rear　of　my　garden。







Dr。　Howard's　book　declares　that；　in　order　to　rid　a　neighborhood　of

mosquitoes；　it　is　only　necessary　to　pour　a　little　petroleum；　or　kerosene

oil；　into　the　stagnant　water　where　they　breed。　Once　a　week　the　oil　should

be　used；　〃at　the　rate　of　once　ounce　for　every　fifteen　square　feet　of

water…surface；　and　a　proportionate　quantity　for　any　less　surface。〃　。。。But

please　to　consider　the　conditions　in　my　neighborhood！





I　have　said　that　my　tormentors　come　from　the　Buddhist　cemetery。　Before

nearly　every　tomb　in　that　old　cemetery　there　is　a　water…receptacle；　or

cistern；　called　mizutame。　In　the　majority　of　cases　this　mizutame　is　simply

an　oblong　cavity　chiseled　in　the　broad　pedestal　supporting　the　monument；

but　before　tombs　of　a　costly　kind；　having　no　pedestal…tank；　a　larger

separate　tank　is　placed；　cut　out　of　a　single　block　of　stone；　and　decorated

with　a　family　crest；　or　with　symbolic　carvings。　In　front　of　a　tomb　of　the

humblest　class；　having　no　mizutame；　water　is　placed　in　cups　or　other

vessels；　for　the　dead　must　have　water。　Flowers　also　must　be　offered　to

them；　and　before　every　tomb　you　will　find　a　pair　of　bamboo　cups；　or　other

flower…vessels；　and　these；　of　course；　contain　water。　There　is　a　well　in　the

cemetery　to　supply　water　for　the　graves。　Whenever　the　tombs　are　visited　by

relatives　and　friends　of　the　dead；　fresh　water　is　poured　into　the　tanks　and

cups。　But　as　an　old　cemetery　of　this　kind　contains　thousands　of　mizutame；

and　tens　of　thousands　of　flower…vessels　the　water　in　all　of　these　cannot　be

renewed　every　day。　It　becomes　stagnant　and　populous。　The　deeper　tanks

seldom　get　dry；　the　rainfall　at　Tokyo　being　heavy　enough　to　keep　them

partly　filled　during　nine　months　out　of　the　twelve。





Well；　it　is　in　these　tanks　and　flower…vessels　that　mine　enemies　are　born：

they　rise　by　millions　from　the　water　of　the　dead；　and；　according　to

Buddhist　doctrine；　some　of　them　may　be　reincarnations　of　those　very　dead；

condemned　by　the　error　of　former　lives　to　the　condition　of　Jiki…ketsu…gaki；

or　blood…drinking　pretas。。。　Anyhow　the　malevolence　of　the　Culex　fasciatus

would　justify　the　suspicion　that　some　wicked　human　soul　had　been　compressed

into　that　wailing　speck　of　a　body。。。







Now；　to　return　to　the　subject　of　kerosene…oil；　you　can　exterminate　the

mosquitoes　of　any　locality　by　covering　with　a　film　of　kerosene　all　stagnant

water　surfaces　therein。　The　larvae　die　on　rising　to　breathe；　and　the　adult

females　perish　when　they　approach　the　water　to　launch　their　rafts　of　eggs。

And　I　read；　in　Dr。　Howard's　book；　that　the　actual　cost　of　freeing　from

mosquitoes　one　American